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2 I waddled towards a bathroom stall to clean myself up before hitting the weight room. As I turned the corner I saw one of the stall doors close quickly. I could hear heavy breathing from the other side. “Hey. Open the door” I said in a commanding voice. Slowly the stall door opened and I could see the terrified eyes of the person inside. “Come here” I said. The guy slowly stepped out of the stall. He was about my height; 5’9” and was wearing shorts and a tight tank top that showed off his impressive physique. I would estimate that he weighed about 240lbs. He was definitely a bodybuilder. He stood in front of me looking at the floor and shuffling his feet. “Did you see what just happened out there?” I asked. “Um-no-no” he muttered. I smiled. “I think you did.” “Sorry man, I didn't mean to stare…I just…I’m sorry man” he stammered. “Woah dude; don't worry about it. I like the fact that there was a witness” I said; trying to reassure him. “Yeah?” he said and finally looked up. He had a great face. Young, full lips with a square jaw. “Fuck yeah. I’ve never had that happen to me before. I just reached 300 plus pounds and it feels fucking unbelievable.” “300 pounds?!” He exclaimed. I flared my lats and tensed my bare chest as he said it. His eyes widened at the site. “Looks like you like these massive muscles.” “Fuck yeah man, you are HUGE.” “I’m WAY past huge dude. Check this out.” I said and raised my arms into a double biceps pose. My bloated 25” arms hardened into to two twisted columns of muscle and veins. I straightened and re-flexed. The kid’s face when white. He stared, opened mouthed and my pumped arms. His eyes darting back and forth between them. No matter how many times this has happened to me I never got tired of the effect this growing body had on otherwise big guys. I lowered my arms and moved into a brutal side chest pose. My 68” pecs erupted with deep striations as my arms inflated again. I could almost feel the veins snaking across my skin. I let out a low growl as I completed the pose. “Like that?” “Fuck” was all he could muster. I smiled and took a step closer to the guy. He looks petrified but also entranced. I placed my hands on my waist and slowly started to spread my lats. I swear I could hear the massive slabs of muscle moving and growing. In the mirror behind my new admirer I could see my body expanding. The kid looked like he was about to pass out as he tried to comprehend the freaky sight in front of him. “Have you ever seen this much mass?” He could only shake his head. “I bet you’ve never felt like the smallest guy in the room.” I said and relaxed the pose. I stepped even closer; I could feel his breath on my skin. I slowly bounced my blood engorged pecs. “You want to feel this massive muscle don't you? I can tell. I can see from that tent in your shorts that you might want to do a little more than just touch.” The kids jaw dropped open and he quickly cover his bulging hard-on. “Don’t worry boy. I know we’ll have a lot of fun. But first we need to toss some huge weights around.” “You-You want to lift with me?” the kid’s eyes light up. “Fuck yeah. You think I look huge now; just wait until I’m pumped. Looks like you can handle yourself too.” I turned and walked to my locker to change into new shorts and replace my tank top. Then we walked out to the gym floor. It was arm day for me. I didn't even ask the kid what he was planning on training. He didn’t seem to care either. The opportunity to lift with a beast like me doesn’t come along that often and this kid wasn’t going to say shit. “I’m Dave by the way.” I said to the kid before we got started. “Tyler.” he replied. “You ready to feel some serious pain?” I asked with a smile. Tyler looked like a deer caught in headlights but I could tell he didn’t want to disappoint me. I did one of the most intense and brutal arm workouts of my life. I kept thinking about reaching 300lbs and having cum without even touching myself. I was more motivated and focused then ever. Watching the kid’s reaction as I pumped up also had me raging for more punishment. At one point while I was curling 225lbs it looked like the kid was going to have to run to the locker room to shoot a load. I teased him by slowing my pace so he could get a better look at my massive biceps. Seeing his reaction had me raging to punish my arms even more. I had him add another 45lb plate to each side. He looked at me like I was completely insane. “Don’t worry man, I can handle this weight but you better stay close though; in case I need a hand.” I processed to curl the massive weight slowly. I could feel every fibre of my bloated arms exploding. Thick veins ran across every service. Drops of sweat were falling to the floor. Tyler couldn’t look away. He licked his lips as I continued to move the bar up and down. After six reps I look at Tyler and said “Push down on the bar”. His mouth fell open. “DO IT!” I said forcefully. Tyler grabbed hold of the bar and started to apply pressure. I started to growl as blinding pain filled my arms. I lowered the bar, closed my eyes and started to curl the weight back up. “Press harder” I managed to say through my gritted teeth. The pain increased and I let out a loud scream but refused to let the weight stop moving. I stomped my feet and completed the rep. I send the bar crashing to the ground. I was barely able to move my arms but I managed to flex them for Tyler. “Look at this mass! I bet you want to feel these biceps.” “Fuck yeah!” “Not until we’re done” I said. Tyler was able to do four reps with the 225lb which I was very impressed with. His arms looked ripped and massive by the end. I have to say I was impressed by Tyler’s abilities. He was a strong kid with perfect technique. He was definitely not ready for the likes of me however. He puked three times during our hour and a half workout. I reassured him by telling him there aren’t many guys that could keep up with me but I could tell he was embarrassed. By the end I was so pumped I couldn’t raise my arms past my waist. My tank was dripping with sweat and was breathing very heavily. Tyler looked a little pale but he was looking pretty jacked. “How’s that pump feel?” I asked him. “Fucking incredible! I’ve never been this pumped.” “Good. You start training like this all the time and you’ll be a freak like me in no time.” “Fuck man, I’d love that but you are the biggest monster I’ve even seen. Those veins on your arms look disgusting.” “You think I look disgusting do you!?” “No! That’s not what I meant!” Tyler said and took a step back as if he was afraid I’d try to hit him. “I don’t think a man can be too big. The bigger and more ripped the better. I want to be as grotesquely huge as you someday.” “Calm down man. I knew what you meant. Not many guys think like that. To be honest; nothing gets me going more then when people think I’ve got too big. Gets me going up just thinking about the scared looks on their faces.” Tyler smiled. I could tell he knew exactly what I meant. Seeing this young kid getting off on my size and dreaming of growing absolutely monstrous got me going. Combined with my incredible pump, I could hardly contain myself. “Grab your shit from your locker and follow me.” I commanded. Tyler didn’t even hesitate. He nearly ran to the locker room.

The Labours of Hugh By Chip Masterson For the Seigneur de M. “My God, what is that beast?” My master and I stood in awe as we watched a lone man carry an entire butt of beer on his back and gently drop it in place. You could hear it slosh - a thousand pounds of beer carried as lightly as a side of beef! But what looked like a man – or the absolute ideal of what a man could be – had the face of boy no older than I. His downy face looked untouched by a razor, yet the width of his shoulders rivaled every champion assembled here, with helmet-sized shoulders and chest muscles as thick as a man’s torso. His bare arms dwarfed my skinny legs, yet his waist, carved into grooves like a cathedral column, was flatter than mine. His legs were covered with several boar-hides stitched together, and with calves pushing them up like a giant’s fists. As he turned to leave, I could see he was so thick from the front edge of his chest to the highest peaks on his back, that if I were to stand with my back against his arm, his torso breadth would my shoulder-width. That back! A dozen crevices zigzagged among the humped cobbles and stony plateaus, undulating and transforming like a landscape in a dream. I pinched myself – I was awake. My master, Sir Alain, a knight of the royal court, had come to Chateaulin bearing the king’s congratulations to Count Houel on the birth of his second son. The Count was throwing a birth festival before hosting the folkmoot, and my master had entered the lists. He was speaking with the Marshal of the castle, Sir Geoff. Sir Geoff looked amused by our gawking. “That’s Hugh, one of my boys,” Sir Geoff explained. “He’s about the age of your boy here.” “Impossible!” Sir Alain sputtered. “I’ve seen quarry workers who couldn’t rival him for size!” “I rescued him after his parents exposed him in the woods,” Sir Geoff continued. “I soon discovered why – when he became impatient for food or cleaning, he smashed his crib to splinters with his tiny newborn fists. They feared raising a prodigy, but in some way, I felt commanded to care for him – I guessed then it was the voice of God, but now….” He paused, and changed course. “He’s very lonely – the other boys avoid him. He spends a great deal of time hunting alone in the forest.” “The Count allows a boy in the chase?” Sir Alain sustained shock after shock, and he hadn’t even mounted his steed yet. “The Count and all the farmers are grateful,” Sir Geoff explained. “Since he began entering the forest, we haven’t seen or heard a single wolf – it’s been years now. He eats like several men, and I can hardly increase his rations in front of the other boys, so he supplements his hunger with boars and other things he catches with his hands. The husbandmen even give him a portion of meat at every slaughter in thanks for his protection. It’s almost pagan,” Geoff added with a wry smile. “What a remarkable warrior he would be,” Sir Alain marveled, “if only he had a better station, and not born for the front line. Robert Guiscard could take all of Italy and drive Emperor Constantine into the arms of the Turks. But perhaps the work of a beast is a more fitting utilization of his unique – talents – after all. Providence is never wrong.” Sir Geoff looked at him sideways with his arms crossed, and said nothing. Soon we were preparing for the joust, a new form where, instead of a mass charge around the field, two knights face each other one-on-one and try not to get killed. I was nervous as a girl, though only King Philip could beat my master (though “beat” might not be a completely accurate description of what actually happened). My master was called against Sir Geoff and the knights rode out, the sunlight dancing off their shiny mail hauberks. They leveled their lances, and at the signal, charged. Almost immediately a strap on Sir Geoff’s saddle broke and he wobbled – but through his narrow visor, my master must not have noticed. Geoff couldn’t brace himself for a thrust and my master glanced a blow off his shoulder that sent Geoff spinning through the air and landing with a hearty smack. Everyone rose in silent suspense. My master had already turned about, still not realizing what had happened, not seeing see Geoff’s boys rush to his aid, . He began his parade – but a spur only jostled him in his saddle – his horse neighed but didn’t move. He kicked again but his mount’s effort to spring only resulting in it being pulled back into the air. My master dropped onto his back in the mud. Stunned, Alain looked up and saw Hugh holding his horse by the tail, fury etched into his handsome young face. “A strap broke – it wasn’t far, you should have stopped!” Hugh yelled – a shocking breach of order. My master flailed but couldn’t rise. My fellow knaves hesitated at the sight of Hugh – only I had quickly sprinted over – so Hugh cheekily slid his arm underneath my masters and effortlessly pulled him to his feet. They were the same height – maybe Hugh was my age, but he was easily a foot taller. “Apologize at once!” Hugh demanded, pressing his chest forward and making my master step awkwardly back. The audience gasped again at these unprecedented offenses, the Count himself shocked speechless. Instinctively raising his shield against Hugh’s “well-armed” aggression, Alain glared past him, glaring at a helmetless Geoff, who winced as boys removed his armor. “Sir, control your boy before his unseemly pride proves fatal!” Whether the threat irked Hugh more than being ignored, I’ll never know, but I saw Hugh’s jaw clench. In a blur, his arm sprang into the air, parallel with the ground, and punched my master’s shield in a quick, efficiently lethal motion – as if my master were livestock for slaughtering. Alain stumbled backward, sucking for air – the blow had split his shield and the horribly dented steel boss had torn the leather hide, sliced through the mail and sunk into Alain’s chest. The leather hide covering the shield trapped his strapped arms – he couldn’t breathe, and couldn’t pull it off. He fell on his knees, stunned and bleeding. The boys huddled in terror so I pleaded with Hugh, “Help him! He’s dying!” Rage melted from Hugh’s face like a passing storm and he realized with alarm what his immeasurable power had done – and to a man ostensibly his “better.” Hugh grabbed each side of the shield and wrenched them apart, shredding the hide covering and exposing the boss. He pulled that out and blood spurted against his face. He put his fingers into the mail and ripped it open like rotten cloth, pressing on the wound to staunch the flow until my fellows braved his proximity and aided our master. The doctor rushed forward, relieved that he could bind the wound without having the remove the mail shirt first. Count Houel rose imperiously and called for Geoff. I couldn’t hear what they said, but Geoff kept nodding and Houel furiously pounded his fist in his palm. Hugh stood a few feet from me with his head down. I smelled something sweet and salty I couldn’t quite place – I closed my eyes and it tickled the back of my mind. Like a memory I haven’t lived yet. I’d secretly taken the twisted and torn boss, and now surreptitiously fingered it behind my back – feeling the shape of his knuckles where they turned it inside-out, the warped edge that had torn and hurt him it should be protecting. Fortunately it missed his heart and lungs – but it’s the kind of scar you want from battle – not from a boy’s fist. Geoff went to Alain first, confirming the punishment, then came over and placed his hand on Hugh’s shoulder. His hand rose and fell like a rowboat at sea as Hugh breathed. Hugh nodded and walked around the center rail. A riffle disturbed the female stands, back and forth like a cauldron being stirred. Two big yoked draft horses were brought out and I understood what Hugh faced. I dropped to my knee beside my master and said, “Please, my lord, please spare his life! I’m sure he can be reformed! I believe he can do anything, anything he sets his mind to.” Alain patted my arm. “We’re only frightening him with what will happen if he doesn’t learn his place. The ostlers won’t let him get hurt. Too badly.” As I helped him into chair, I heard Hugh say, “What about my other arm?” My balls tingled. I shifted from foot to foot as a strange irritation grew in my groin. Two more horses were brought up from the stable. Hugh stuck out his arms, releasing feral tangles of reddish-gold curls sprouting beneath them and spraying a mist of sweat. With ropes, the ostlers lashed Hugh’s wrists to the yokes. Then, to guarantee the horses wouldn’t bolt and kill him, their bridles were lashed to the corners of the court, with enough slack that they could apply a torturous pressure that would remind Hugh of his place in the future. The horses fidgeted nervously, nostrils flaring and hooves kneading the dirt. Houel made an angry speech about honor and respect, but sensing a universal impatience, yielded Alain the field. Alain lifted his hand, and dropped it wearily. The ostlers promptly goaded the horses forward. The ropes leading from Hugh’s wrists twisted, but so did the ropes between his wrists and shoulders – his arms that almost dwarfed the haunches of the horses themselves. Each horse took several steps before its hooves slid against the dirt. Alain nodded again and the ostlers urged the horses harder – but the beasts could only lean into their bridles until the effort made them shake. Hugh stared at a point in the sky, his torso rising and falling, his legs planted like oaks. The stable boys urged the horses forward, but their legs could only dig grooves in the ground. Hugh turned his arms slightly, aligning his heaped shoulders with the winglike flare of his back, and refused to move. A sheen of sweat dappled the burnished golden down covering him, and I caught that sweet, wild scent stirring me – though there was no breeze. I realized it came from under Hugh’s arms. The horses smelled something different – their nostrils flared and with a single shriek, they bolted – or rather, attempted it. Hugh panicked at the sound and tensed his arms – two horses stumbled onto their forelegs. Hugh bolted them all in place. His hands gripped the ropes with white knuckles and his unexpected restraint multiplied panic into terror. The horses threw themselves against the ropes, bucking and springing, but only rising straight up instead of forward. The teams danced side to side, seeking any advantage over the terrible weight that pinned them down – and Hugh, squinting, jerked the ropes tight and stopped their dancing. Hugh pulled his shoulder blades together, his flesh humping and squeezing together. This dragged the horses backwards, and they screamed and stamped the ground in fear and fury. Hugh bent his elbows, tightening his arm muscles, and sixteen hooves skidded toward him half a metre. His hands twisted and he gripped the rope farther along, pulling it toward him as his swollen arms turned purple with veins. Though only half-bent, the meat of his forearms pressed against his bulbous upper arms. The horses’ eyes rolled with panic, their mouths frothing and chomping their bits. Hugh closed his eyes and, swaying side to side as he absorbed the animals’ combined efforts, raised his fists higher and brought them closer together. The reins to the court posts tautened and, as the audience gawped in amazement, the horses themselves rose off the ground and floundered, writhing helplessly in mid-air. Hugh twisted the rope again and drew more into his relentless fingers, his chest rippling with dents and ridges as he fought to bring his fists together, lungs heaving. The animals twisted as they stretched between the posts and Hugh, their shrieks strangled by the pressure into hoarse gasps of desperation. Urine and shit poured out of each animal as Hugh’s inexorable hands reached for each other. A shocking crack of splitting timbers shook the stands as the posts gave way – but not enough. A groan like stretching leather was followed with a horribly wet FWWWWUMMMPPPPP! Hugh’s fists knocked against each other – because his arms had ripped four horses apart, spewing blood and gore over his rounded masses and into the crowd. The torn torsos flew towards him and clumped into the dirt while the head-half rebounded into stands. Some people screamed and ran but some couldn’t move, shaking or trembling. Flushed with victory, Hugh smiled broadly and quickly shredded his rope. He opened his eyes and saw with disbelief what carnage his arms had wrought. His skin glowing and his entire body heaved for air, a weird pride surmounting the grotesquerie. Young maidens surged from the stands, yammering and gazing devotedly at him. Pleased (and a little stunned), he flexed his arms and the girls caught their breath – a couple swooned. The bush-covered, deep round pocket that sank between his back and chest and smelled warm and inviting. One bold lass reached out to touch him, giggling, her fingers flying back as if burned. “It’s okay,” Hugh said. “I can make it bigger.” Hugh began pumping his arms, and muscles still swollen from the struggle turned from red to violet, with blue veins snaking under the skin. Each pump expanded his arms got bigger, until their round shape changed and a second peaked cap rose above the bulk. The maidens were all modestly attired – not a bosom in sight – and yet his presence, his heat, his scent compelled their hands to reach for him, regardless of propriety. Several of the girls swarmed around him, their fingers exploring his physique as they might a statue of Hercules. With a huge smile, Hugh dropped his arms and thrust out his chest, letting them uselessly poke their fingers into its obdurate surface, feel its edges and contours. I could see it dawning on their astonished faces how Hugh’s living flesh mocked the so-called armor of the knights. As their fingertips traced the arabesque of ridges in his back, I could also see a single pulse along one leg of his trousers. Hugh’s own eyes now brightened as the fawning girls sparked pleasure in his man-parts, which in turn shadowed his handsome face with anxiety. Despite his advance development, I guessed he’d always used his arms and legs as tools, never experienced a rush of triumphant potency flooding his limbs, then reaching beyond them and enthralling the opposite sex. The girls’ desire sparked lightning which flowed through his muscles to his manhood, forever fusing sexual arousal with displaying his body and exerting his strength. As if he were entirely a living erection. A savage bellow erupted from suddenly jostling shrubbery and in a cloud of dust, a massive bull appeared, its nose bloody where it ripped away from its ring. The girls shrieked and fled, many simply crouching behind Hugh. The bull faced Hugh and pawed the ground, challenging him. I heard my master say, “There’s something in Hugh’s sweat that disturbs stallions and bulls alike. It maddened those horses, and now our bull senses his dominance threatened.” Before anyone could move, the bull lowered its broad head and charged, lance-sharp horns swinging wildly. Hugh growled back and actually ran at the bull, bulging arms cocked and ready to spring. They met in a thunderclap of bone striking bone-hard muscle as Hugh slammed his chest against the bull’s skull. Each animal bounced back from the impact, the bull staggering with its tongue out. Hugh recovered first and grabbed the horns low. Digging his mighty legs into the soft earth, he shoved the bull’s skidding hooves back, away from the stands. But the bull seemed locked on his enemy – it swung and shook its huge head – or attempted to. Hugh grunted and rocked sideways; his shoulders turning ominously toward the beast, each like a head sprouting a thicker horn. The bull bucked his head until Hugh slowly, steadily, unmercifully slowed it into immobility. The bull pulled back and twisted its thick neck the other way – but Hugh twisted his wrists and raised his elbows, checking its progress and holding it tight. With a strained groan, Hugh forced the shuddering head back up. The bull tried to toss Hugh up into the air but Hugh’s grip held it like tar. With a war cry, Hugh exploded and slammed the bull’s head down against the ground. Angered, stunned, the bull leaped forward – but didn’t get far. Hugh’s shoulders sank back, soaking up the bull’s strength and then driving it back out against the animal with greater force. In quick bursts Hugh thrust the bull back; its set hooves trenched the earth which could not withstand Hugh’s power. Trapped in superior hands – Hugh utterly controlled the head, defying the animal’s every twitch – the animal’s eyes rolled and its bellows rose in broken cries of disbelief. The crowd cheered to see this boy-man tame a bull bare-handed – so Hugh grinned and raised one fist into the air … and contained the bestial violence with one hand! The crowd’s deafening praise drowned out the bull’s chest-rumbling fury, its rippling shoulder and haunches quivering, shaking – impotent. Squealing with rage, the bull jabbed its free horn a few centimetres at Hugh. The boy brought his free fist down on the bull’s head. A crack like lightning splitting a tree shocked everyone to silence. Hugh struck the bull again, his knuckles smacking into the densest part between the horns. The bull’s knees buckled and drool looped out of its mouth. One more THWOKKK and the bull dropped flat. Shaking out his hand while the crowd cheered, Hugh walked around and stuck his arms under the bull’s belly. In one swift move he lifted the enormous beast up against his chest … and then his arms pressed it up over his head. He dropped it once against his own stony shoulders and the bull guttered an exhausted wheeze. He lifted the pull again and repeated the drop, the impact making the bull’s head loll. Finally Hugh lifted the bull over his head and carried it around the arena, giving everyone a close look before he SLAMMED it against the ground, its legs splayed out like petals. The impact clattered weapons in their racks, and some of the ladies lost their balance. The bull lay perfectly still so Hugh slapped its face several times to see if he had killed it with one fist. The bull opened its eyes, saw Hugh, licked Hugh’s hand and rolled over on its back, its enormous male-part exposed, red and glistening. Hugh held both hands over his head again like a champ. Under the crowd’s cheers I heard my master mutter, “That bull will never stud again.” “Young knave,” announced Houel once ordered was restored, “God and Fortune have placed you in the lowest estate, in which your earlier offenses to Sir Alain are unpardonable. And yet your manly vigor and dauntless courage indicate a nobler origin, one in which your outburst would not only be unexceptional, but possibly demanded as a point of honor. With your parentage unknown, we may never know the truth – except through your honorable and obedient actions henceforth. I bid you to mind your tongue and temper, obey my vassal Sir Geoff in all things, and your God-thewn limbs may one day raise you to an estate commensurate with your valor.” The Count then turned to the events planned for after noon dinner, but my eyes were drawn to his left arm, which had disappeared behind his back. It appeared to be rhythmically twisting back and forth – or rather, in and out – as he spoke of Hugh. I doubt anyone else noticed – all eyes remained on the smiling hero, his cowed bull; Hugh’s innocent freckles belied a ferocity lurking underneath. I had to see to my master’s horse. Hugh led me to the stable, saying eagerly, “You need to clean the hooves, right?” he asked me. Before I could so much as unstrap the saddle, Hugh ducked underneath the stallion and lifted him over his head – this after so many exertions already! The horse panicked at first, but Hugh’s deep voice and commanding presence calmed it – I even saw the head of its maleness peeking out, as with the bull. My own trousers felt heavy and tight and I stood riveted before the column of living power before me. “Well, go on!” he said. “I’m hungry!” I grabbed a pick and indulged in cleaning each hoof without bending over – I barely had to move the stallion’s legs. When I indicated I was done – I had no voice – Hugh gently put the horse down and deftly unbuckled the tack, which he effortlessly carried, saddle in one hand and all the dressings in the other, to a bench and rack against the wall. When he came back, he asked if he could brush the animal instead. “I didn’t like hurting those horses before, or the bull,” he said sheepishly. “Something just came over me I can’t put into words – like when I’m hunting. I’m usually gentle here.” He wielded the brush like a pro, the stallion responding with shivers and affectionate nudges – one animal acknowledging the superior protection and care of another. I marveled, not for the first time, how some animals sense danger in his aroma, while others are soothed … and aroused. Hugh ate separately from the other boys, who swarmed around the young squire. The noble boy kept looking at Hugh with jealousy, but managed to captivate the other boys with tales of court love affairs and adventures. Only one boy looked our way … and he too looked jealous when he caught my eye. Hugh finished his portion of stew before I had barely begun, and fetched a bag full of preserved meats from his stash. The rough burlap had his name crudely embroidered on it, and while I finished my plate, the boy-man devoured several hunks of dried meat, teeth ripping the hard flesh apart with animal hunger. The morning’s excitement, and being both full and so near Hugh’s humid heat, made me long for a nap. But Hugh jumped up and dragged me with an iron grip out to watch the afternoon events. When prizes were awarded, everyone looked at Hugh as if they knew he deserved not only the top prize, but the whole array of jewelry. The winners too seemed abashed, even my master, who came in third overall and got a beautiful golden torque with three emeralds. I noted that, though decorative, it could fit his neck – but not Hugh’s. I had to attend my master at dinner and eat with the other boys, but when we were dismissed, I left them and went back to the stable. He brightened like dawn when he saw me – his new friend – and we went outside and sat on a stone in the cool evening. Without a word, he draped his heavy arm around my shoulders and I stiffened to support its weight. After watching the stars come out in companionable silence, he yawned like a lion and guided me to his lonely straw pallet, away from the boys on the other side of the animal stalls. Hugh dropped his trousers pulled off his loin cloth, sniffed it, nodded and put it back on. His virile member swung away like a pendulum – but most remarkably, it was utterly smooth. I had thought, given the maturity of his armpits, that he’d be woolly below as well – but that growth had not yet started, it seemed, no more than his beard. How poised between two worlds he seemed, striding them both like the Colossus of Rhodes. Unexpectedly, I felt fear sleeping next to a creature so powerful and, worried he might crush me in his sleep (or in a bear-hugging dream), I curled into a tight ball on the edge of the mat. The night turned frigid and a howling wind whipped around the stable. But Hugh burned like a fully-stoked furnace, his pale skin radiant. I heard him say, “Are you afraid of me too?” I rolled over and, shivering, told him, “I didn’t think I was, but suddenly I felt very tiny.” He looked hurt and said, “I never hurt little creatures. That would be terrible. I don’t even step on worms after it rains.” He extended his arm and I wormed closer, his heat like a heavy woolen blanket embracing me. My head was smaller than the pillow of his arm, not stony at all but firm and, in some way, compelling and safe. He saw the arch in my loincloth and looked around excitedly – “Did girls sneak in?” When he realized we were alone, he sighed and said, “Oh, you’re like Ralph. Ralph was my friend until the others turned him against me.” “Nothing could ever turn me against you!” I blurted out. “I would pledge myself to you as your vassal forever, here and now, if you could take me.” He giggled at the ridiculous thought but nestled happily against me. “You can touch them, if you want,” he said quietly. “I never used to like it when Ralph did it, but today it felt different – all those girls’ hands. I don’t know what I felt. I sure liked it though.” “You’ve never been with a girl?” I asked in amazement, assuming he’d plowed wide and deep. He shook his head. “My master told me the story of Samson, but the truth was, his hair was a symbol of the other thing that grows out of a man. And when he lay with Delilah, she took his essence – so he became weak, her weak slave.” I realized Geoff must have been afraid of what Hugh’s youthful exuberance might do to a tender girl – or grown woman, or sheep or cow. I said nothing and placed my hand on his belly, which ran beneath my fingers like hot bricks on a cooking hearth. I explored the heavy bulk beneath his smooth skin, not clench into stones but full of rumbling threat, rising and falling with his breath. It felt like a city street brought to life, the cobbles able to yield or harden at will. My hand crept up to where his chest rose up like an escarpment – though he lay flat on his back! – and spread like wings to either side. I could barely reach over his chest and rub the solid mound of his shoulder, and stroke the junction where his chest and arm came together like the stanchion of a rope bridge. He raised his forearm and drew my face in his humid armpit. Though I wasn’t nearly finished exploring his manly terrain, the heat and sweet pit-fumes and soft tickling hairs overwhelmed me and I shot my seed in several fierce spurts, my whole being jerking and one foot cramping up. I don’t know if he noticed, but he didn’t let me go – I think he’d already fallen asleep. My release, after the day’s events, left me empty and I too slept in his dark musky chamber. I awoke before dawn – Hugh was already at his chores. Duke Conan would be arriving this morning to begin the folkmoot (there’s quite a queue of gripers this time around, I hear), and the great entertainments would continue, including a troupe of acrobatic Prussian dwarves said to be astounding and funny. A post rider ripped by us and headed straight into the castle. Word went around that we were to assemble, and soon Count Houel mounted the rampart along with by Sir Geoff and the seneschal, an old man, called for everyone’s attention. “My esteemed brother-in-law, Conan Duke of Bretagne,” Houel announced, “shall arrive presently – yes, yay, quiet, quiet! – and he sends ahead not only his salutations – please, quiet! – but also a demand: William, Duke of Normandy, has taken Maine - yes, an outrage! – and our lord expects Normandy shall enter our lands as well, with or without invitation. Every able-bodied man of service age is to immediately prepare for a dress inspection with what weapons and armor he is able to supply, so that we may assess the state of our defense and prepare accordingly. We shall gather again an hour before dinner ready for war and our lord’s review.” He clapped his gauntlets and hell erupted as everyone leapt pall-mall to get home and dust/shine what rusty pieces of tin may decorate their mantels. The Bretons hadn’t seen much action in recent years other than border skirmishes here and there. Now local politics had now thrown Bretagne’s scent under William’s nose and he was chasing it down like the dog of war he is. For armor, the knaves generally tussled over left-overs and scraps from the smithies, but nothing fit Hugh. An older boy remembered an unusually stout squire many years ago who had left mail behind. It was out of style but I doubt anyone would notice that, if it fit. Hugh had to borrow a tunic from the blacksmith – he rarely wore a shirt of any sort. I spread tallow over the arms and shoulders of the borrowed tunic, trying not to linger in the all the rippling valleys and crests which thrummed like volcanos even while relaxed. I and three other boys then lowered the hauberk over his head. We could have restyled the hauberk, repositioning the giant belly links to Hugh’s shoulders where they were needed, but we hadn’t time. We jerked and yanked hung our entire weight off the armor, squeezing it around the outcroppings his his chest, shoulders and back. It hung loose halfway down his midsection and when he put down his arms, the sleeves didn’t quite reach the elbow. The coif fit fine over his head but was tight around his neck, and spread only partly as far over his upper torso as it was designed to. He started breathing fast in the constricting armor, the clinking links rattling with each breath oddly disturbing, if musical. He could barely move in any direction and looked as stiff as a giant wearing a doll’s costume. We watched in awe as the many war machines were wheeled out and lined up for demonstrations. Somehow, I thought Hugh more impressive than they. By the time Duke Conan arrived, all the pomp and ritual left us sweating in the sun, knees trembling from the weight of unaccustomed armor. A couple boys passed out, clattering to the ground, but Hugh looked fine – confined, sweatily pungeant, but unaffected by the heat. While reviewing us, Conan blinked several times when he came to Hugh. “You there, come forward,” Conan ordered. Hugh walked stiffly forward. “How can you fight? It looks like you can barely move.” Knowing he had erred in not previously providing Hugh with suitable armor in case of war – so rare was fighting in these parts – Geoff piped up and said, “He’s had a growth spurt recently and his armor is actually at the blacksmith’s for alterations--” Duke Conan silenced him, eyes glued to Hugh, and said, “I was speaking to the … boy.” He walked around Hugh, suppressing a sigh at the span from side to side, and front to back. He actually ran his fingers across Hugh’s upper back to test if this was some kind of prank. I don’t think he could tell where the steel stopped and Hugh began. Suspicious, perhaps, that beneath the tunic was steel casing of some kind – perhaps plated armor (Houel could hardly afford to fit his entire levy in plate – no one could), Conan came around and ordered Hugh to raise his arms. Then he cocked his ear, listening closely. Hugh raised his arms straight out the side. The links squirmed noisily as the hard surface below changed shape. The entire hauberk rode up several inches. “Now throw your arm back and bend it as if you were going to throw a spear.” Hugh got his arm half-way back when he got stuck. Conan exchanged a dark look with Count Houel and Hugh wiggled his torso, shifting several more belly inches up around his chest so he could move his arm all the way back. As he half-bent his arm, the links twisted and flattened around it. “Make a muscle,” Conan ordered. Hugh obliged. Hugh tightened his fist made his sinews expand, higher and wider. The mail exploded, shooting fragments of steel in both directions. The other warriors yelled and shielded themselves from the painful missiles. The Duke blinked and saw the pale reddened mound surmounting through the shattered mail, splitting the tunic as Hugh made it bigger … and bigger … and bigger still … and with a final straining grin, created two peaks and peppered us with several more links. Hugh looked eagerly at Conan for approval, but Conan simply stood there with his mouth open. So Hugh, thinking the Duke wanted to see more, held out his other arm and flexed it fully-extended. The chain mail tightened noisily while the meat of his back-arm jutted out … getting rounder … bigger … until it shamed the upper arms of most men and held the links at maximum tautness. His front-arm resembled rose in a long arch, trembling a moment against the links until they popped in the middle and ripped open, exposing the deep crevice between the two halves. Hugh then flexed his arm to match, possibly outdo, his other arm – and the mail and tunic obediently tore apart deep into the pit and over the dragon-claw undulations of his shoulder. He stood there, showing off his two beauties, and several women fainted. Female sighs and moans (or I should say, high-pitched sounds – not limited to females) sang through the assembly as he put his hands on his hips. At the same time, he moved his elbows out and widened his back in stages, left to right, left to right, so you could see his it from the front! The links chinked and jumped, the bottom rising higher and higher up his torso … and then Hugh bounced his chest muscles back and forth. Twisted steel shards blew off his chest and showered down on the crowd, often drawing blood. Even the Duke was not immune but nobody stopped him, watching him in rapt awe. Pulling his shoulders forward, he split the hauberk down the sides, tearing steel like old cloth. Strips of unhinged metal flowed off his body like oil. He kept on popping all his muscles until he reduced the tattered armor to old fringe hanging off the coif. For a moment, I felt a communal urge to spontaneously kneel. But Conan’s eyes shone avidly, and he clapped his hands together. He turned toward a pavilion set up for dinner and ordered, “Clear away the food and bring that banquet table up onto the dais. Right up there,” Conan pointed. As servants scurried, I heard him say to Houel, “I think we have a secret weapon against Normandy right here. I will test of his capacities.” Turning to Hugh, he intoned, “Young knave, come forward and show us your pith.” “Please, sire,” Hugh said, bowing and coloring deeply, “I’ve done enough lately, and it makes the other boys – they’re scared of me. I don’t want to scare people anymore.” “It’s not a request, boy!” Conan thundered. “You will do as commanded or face the consequences.” A nod from Geoff removed his objection and he nodded his obedience. Obviously the Duke hadn’t been informed about the bloodbath yesterday’s “consequences” turned into. It took four straining, huffing servants to trundle over the enormous oak-plank table over the uneven ground. While they struggled with the empty table, Hugh pulled off the coif, his arm nearly pressing against his face, and stripped off the remnants of mail and tunic. A flock of girls surrounded him, rubbing shreds of tallow-covered tunic into his white, perfect skin with a fervid devotion that would make the saints jealous. Others caressed his chest and several explored his back. Three or four of them gripped his arms and he suddenly raised them to his sides, the girls hanging off like pennants and giggling with feverish delight. He showed off how his arms charged shape, raising and lowering the girls with only the granite peaks. They swung back and forth but he stood solid as a Maypole. A couple dropped to caress his legs through the boar hides but that alarmed the ancient seneschal, who hobbled over with a loud bell and shooed them all away. The table arrived at the said, but the servants were too exhausted to lift it up the step, so four fresh servants came and heaved, fumbling, with all their might. Duke Conan grinned and commanded, “Everyone - remove your armor and pile it onto the table!” Geoff sent the dwarf troupe over to help, and as boys helped free their masters and shucked their own hauberks, the dwarves made a clever show of passing it along and, climbing upon each other’s shoulders, layering the mail and helmets with exaggerated artistry. The boards of the platform groaned and popped as the weight increased, and increased further. Just when I thought I heard the table complain as well, Conan called a halt, and ordered two goblets to be filled with wine and set at either end of the table. Reaching into a pocket inside his sleeve, Conan pulled out a small cross, gold with garnets and pearls. “If young … young …” (a servant whispered to him) “young knave Hugh can lift this table into the air without spilling so much as a drop of wine from either goblet, I will entrust his master with this, my own devotional cross, to secure his education and his future needs.” A collective gasp went up – knaves were not allowed to own gold. To have a small treasure in trust for the future was unheard of. Conan either doubted Hugh could combine vigor with dexterity and endurance … or he prayed for it with all his soul. Geoff caught Hugh’s shoulder and whispered, “Remember – when you move things quickly then stop, anything not tied down will keep moving. Slow and steady.” I could see Hugh reining his enthusiasm by the set of his jaw. He leapt onto the dais from a stand and surveyed he table from various angles. The platform cricked underneath Hugh’s feet as he circled – the links of armor tinkled and flared in the sun. His additional weight severely stressed a dais constructed to hold a dozen men. The table sported a pair of stout columns carved with spiraling grooves at each end, braced by an inconvenient trestle running the nearly three-metre length of the bankette. And undulating terrain of steel rose in layers above his head. The goblets were nearly brimful. The trestle would get caught between his legs if he straddled it – he’d never get it all the way. I saw now Conan’s strategy – not simply testing Hugh’s brawn, but his strategic thinking and adaptability. And any solution would require more than simple pith. He went around to the back so all we could see was Hugh’s bent, boar-hide covered legs under the table – the armor pile fully obscured him. He squatted and extended his arms at angles underneath. Then he straightened his legs: and the table rose steadily off the platform. Cries of awe and disbelief rifled through the crowd. The platform sank beneath his feet, the wood barking loudly. Widening his stance, Hugh seemed to drop his shoulders and press up from underneath – the towering steel swayed and flashed in the sun. He edged one foot in front of the other, boards sagging loudly from the concentrated weight. Finally, the bottom of his chest-shelf caught against the trestle. He took several deep breaths while everyone else held theirs. In one smooth movement, he powered the creaking table out and up into the air, slipped his head underneath it and shifting his hands to align with the corners for stability. A loud POPPPP! burst from the platform, which bounced dangerously beneath him. One of the builders caught his attention with a glinting knife, and pointed out where the joists were. With a grateful smile (me: jealous), Hugh slowly spread his legs until they rested on the cross-supports. Thicker trusses protested at such punishment – when it was covered with chairs and people, the platform had been silent, solid as the earth – but they took the stress. He whipped his back leg forward and the swirl of interlocking sinews that rose from his waist and twisted around each other to brace the expanse of his upper torso made the carved pillars at the table’s ends look puny. Plus, how such a narrow, flat and tightly-coiled abdomen could rise and moor the broad clustered beef that anchored his oak-branch arms … it defied belief. No blubbery “strongman” rival such power, such beauty. Sweat trickled down the gullies and trenches of his man-flesh, and his groiny-salted scent wafted insensibly through the crowd. Men stirred unwittingly, uncomfortably, some angrily, while girls and women both undulated, their own bodies responding to Hugh’s proximity by lubricating their gyrations and stirring their desires. I felt my own ass and cock discharge an oily moisture as I wiped drool off my chin. Hugh turned his hands backwards and pressed the table high. The mountains of armor shifted slightly but the tremoring goblets stayed dry. As the trestle scraped against his belly – I half-expected to see shavings fall away as Hugh’s serrations carved the wood as it rose. But of course, the ladies had massaged enough cow fat into his skin that it slid easily past them. With his arms extending above his head, his chest bulged out so far out that Hugh pressed his his chin against the top of one to brace his neck. It did not dent. With a final grunt, he thrust and locked his elbows, the bole-thick knotted arms fitting into his shoulder and chest musculature like a complex war machine. The trestle caught on his overhanging chest and bent like a bow in that final thrust – I dug my nails into my legs, afraid the wood would crack. But the squawking wood held and a cheer went up all around. All except Conan, who’s intent face sweated as profusely as Hugh’s, and whose hips jerked violently, his entire body rigid. But Hugh wasn’t done defying our imaginations. Carefully, Hugh stepped to the end of the dais and dropped down onto the first step, bending his arms to keep the table level as he descended. The stair steps squeaked until he got nearly to the bottom, when one snapped with a BANG! Everyone jumped and yelled in fear for him. But Hugh took it in stride, smoothly following the drop while scrunching his body to keep the table level. He dropped his other foot onto the ground, and walked through the last, splintering steps and risers as if they were made of straw. He carried the table directly to Conan himself. Tension gripped the crowd – what was he going to do? For a moment, I felt a flash of panic - he would hurl the table and its contents onto the Duke and pronounce himself King, defying all challengers. I even saw Conan flinch, his guards fidgeting between the call of duty and the sudden will to flee. But Hugh merely lowered the table back down so that it hovered above the ground, and turned it sideways so Conan could observe, and remove, the first unspilled goblet without having to move himself. Then he kept turning, showing Conan and the audience the rippling contours of this back, which tremored in a rapid tattoo from the strain but never flagged from their labors. My eyes were drawn to the perfect globes capping his hide-clad legs - I wanted to grab them and pull him against me – or hang on while he pressed himself into me. But I shook those thoughts out of my head. Hugh stopped again so Conan could take the second goblet and verify that not a drop had spilled from it either. The he completed his circle and, his arms and shoulders beginning to quiver, he lowered the table to the ground as if presenting it as a gift to his lord. Hugh came around, issuing a hot wind of deep breaths and looking as though he could defy Samson and Hercules together. He dropped down on one knee before Conan, his head sinking beneath the rising plateaus of his back. Hugh could barely control his quavering musculature as he recovered from the punishing victory – he vibrated with effort and stilled himself, as he had the bull. In a cracked, hollow voice, Conan said, “Riiii--” He coughed drily, drank half a goblet down and sputtered, half-choking. With wine staining his chin, he said in a tight voice, “Rise, s- … m-my boy. Where is your m-m-master?” Geoff stepped forward, beaming with pride and relief. Conan gave Geoff the golden jeweled cross, and made him swear an oath on the blood of the Savior that that treasure should be used only to secure a future fit for man who will doubtless perform feats of great renown in the service of his lord and land. Again he crowd cheered and Hugh disappeared beneath a roiling female sea. Water, oil, food passed hand to hand through the crowd to care for him where he knelt, and Conan, feeling singularly ignored, stepped over the Houel and called Geoff and Alain to them. “I had thought to test your war machines against one of the menhirs in that field over there – but I think that, once he has fed and rested, we should test them against young Hugh. That will give us a greater idea of how we could deploy him against the machines of our enemies.” Geoff clearly wanted to protest – both the test and the “use” of Hugh in place of a giant rock simply went too far. But it was not his place, and turned away and prepared to speak with Hugh about what he still must do to fully earn the jeweled cross. Myself, I felt Hugh would love dominating the biggest, mightiest mechanisms created by man – if he were fresh. The last few days, he expended more puissance than a dozen or more grown men. Any failure due to fatigue could make him very angry. And I’d seen him angry – Hugh nearly killed an armored knight with one controlled half-punch through his shield. Even a days’ delay would restore him sufficiently. Worried for him, and the rest of us, I tried to tote up how many men would have to pool their strength to accomplish Hugh’s many feats – the horses followed by the bull, then lifting a horse, then chores chores chores; and chores the next morning before bursting armor and slowly lifting a weight that nearly destroyed the dais he stood on. I could see men falling in exhausting, others rushing to sustain an enterprise for which Hugh required no assistance. I felt dizzy – such potency in one boy-man violated every sense of reason and nature. It was a breach in the world, some supremacy stepping down from the world beyond and stretching human belief to its breaking point. I remembered Jacob had wrestled with an angel, and held it helpless in his arms for three solid days before the angel was able to treacherously injure Jacob’s hip, and escape ignominiously the patriarch’s iron grasp. If men have lived before who could dominate even the angels of God, then perhaps such a man could exist again – not a pagan mythical Hercules, but real man, created by God … perhaps to test our faith. See if we would worship the miracle worker or the one true God who made him. I prayed for guidance through this confusion … but my hands weren’t the only part of me pointing towards heaven. “Jealous?” Alain said, coming up behind me, making me jump. “Ah! Sir, uh, n-no…” I stuttered. He gently cuffed my head and gestured to where Hugh had moved to a couch and was being fed and massaged (or groped) by a hundred hands. “Someday you’ll have the girls pawing over you too,” he told me. “But I’m afraid today, no man here can compete with this shining prodigy.” Relief flooded me – he never suspected who I was jealous of…. Mid-afternoon, people stretching from naps re-assembled for the siege-engine demonstration. The first to be wheeled forward was a new battering ram. “In battle,” Geoff explained, “the roof would be covered with wet hides. Thirty metres long, it weighs over a tonne thanks to the iron head. We can fit thirty men on each side.” “That doesn’t look like a ram to me,” Conan said, peering at the head. “It looks like … a fist.” Houel glowed with pride. “That was my innovation. It’s more frightening, isn’t it? Like the fist of God knocking on the door.” Conan rolled his eyes and said sourly, “I think if Hugh stands on that rise over there, he’ll be in a position to test this … fingered thing.” While the engine was wheeled into place, Hugh eagerly ran over and put his hands on his hips. The shadows his wide shoulders and prominent chest cast over his stomach made the cobbles look truly like a stone wall … except that, while he waited, Hugh flexed and relaxed the individual cobbles and rolled his stomach like sea swells. Stone walls can’t do that. Geoff instructed the soldiers, “Let’s start slow – just you ten.” They positions and began swinging the chains faster, and faster, and faster. The heavy SWOOOOOSH through the air conveyed the speed and weight of the ram and for a moment, I seriously feared for Hugh: that ram could knock a bull out more efficiently than Hugh had. It could kill the bull at one blow. Had Hugh met his match? Soldiers swiftly pulled the brakes away while others shove and the machine lurched forward with its thick capped member extending obscenely. An ear-splitting SMAKKKKK! made us wince as the iron fist struck Hugh dead center in his belly. Hugh flew off his feet and the machine lurched backward, shoulders yelling from the shock that rattled their arms. Hugh landed on his shield-tough back several metres away and rutted the turf landing. He immediately sat up and waved he was unhurt, shaking his golden curls to clear his head. The soldiers however hobbled off the platform, gripping their forearms in each hand, faced carved in pain. “That was fun!” Hugh laughed before leaping straight up onto his feet. His stomach blazed angry scarlet beneath his pale freckled chest. He mock-punched himself and clowned like it really hurt, but then he grinned and, stretching side to side and back and forward, assumed his stance for round two. The crowd bubbled with murmuring like a pot nearing the boil – particularly on the ladies’ side. The men gave each other dirty looks at how openly their women displayed such rampant desires – an impotent rage, given their rival. Two dozen new soldiers replaced the first crew and exchanged nervous glances. Once again, the chains swung back and forth, gathering force. It seemed to gather the crowd as well – people swayed back and forth in rhythm, their excitement building along with the ram’s speed. They unleashed the engine with a violent rush and I hid behind my hands. A thunderclap braced the air as Hugh flew higher and faster and farther than before. The log shuddered to an astonished stop and many of the soldiers screamed and fell to the floor from an impact their joints weren’t designed to sustain. Hugh cut a trench through the field and he sank from view. Yet he hooted merrily and we knew that the ram had failed to hurt him again. Yet Conan frowned – I don’t think he expected Hugh to sail into the air, however unhurt he may be. Had he imagined an impossible spectacle? Had he hoped to insert Hugh between a ram and a besieged gate in the hopes of protecting the fortress with Hugh’s stronger build? Clearly that wouldn’t work. I looked at Geoff, who wore the same worried look as my master: an unhappy lord is more dangerous than any war engine. Yet I saw clearly what Conan overlooked: a ram’s force is transferred into the gate or wall, which cracks and weakens as that force flows through it. Hugh did not absorb that force – he repelled it. That’s why the shock surprised the soldiers and why the ram wobbled backwards. It was that repulsion, force being echoed away from Hugh, that propulsed him through the air. A gate made of such material would be impregnable. Hugh alone possessed such material. Again, I shivered, thinking of a living man who could harden himself beyond any other rock or metal in creation. A living man who let me touch him. Cheers and guffs of awe rose from the crowd as Hugh marched back to the frustrated machine, clods of soil falling off the harder bedrock of his back. Geoff rushed over, whispering urgently to him - Hugh smiled like the sun and nodded happily. The soldiers looked frightened. And this time, the ram was fully crowded with men. The crowd mirrored the swinging ram with their bodies, thrusting themselves forward and back in unwitting unison and urging some maximum test which could release their pent-up excitement. The huge log sliced through the air with a deepening WHOOOSH that beat fast and faster until the moment of its release: it sped forward and Hugh unexpectedly leaped at the iron head with his chest. The KKRRRAKKKKK! rang like a church bell breaking apart. Hugh dropped straight down while the entire engine bounce swiftly away from him, the men behind it jumping out of the way and the rowers flying off the sides. Hugh didn’t move. A frozen silence held the crowd until, as a single being, it raced forward. Hugh looked up and sucked in a mighty draught of air, shook his head and looked around, blinking. The crowd stopped, as if the living thing might become a dragon or griffin. A stunned look clouded his eyes – then they focused on the engine rolling to a slow stop, listed to the side where something broke, and all the men crawling away in pain. He remained crouching, catching his wind. Conan himself inspected the state of the ram. A split ran the entire length of the log – it slumped unevenly in its chain sling. Even more amazing, the top two “knuckles” of the fist had flattened slightly, deformed to the sides. “That’s solid iron,” Geoff said, mouth gaping. He turned back to Hugh. Some soldiers were helping him to his feet – he was so heavy it took three to a side and one in back, and they braced their legs jointly against him like buttresses until he steadied himself. He kept jerking his head, the death-knell of the fist still ringing. Geoff kept waving his fingers in front of Hugh’s eyes but the boy batted them gently away and said, in a firm voice I hadn’t heard him use before, “I’m done with having things run into me for a couple of days.” “The trebuchet is next,” Geoff said worriedly. “Shall I--” Hugh shook his head again with a sly grin. “I have different plans for it.” Geoff stepped back, momentarily alarmed by the forthright assurance Hugh now assumed. He walked around in circles, stretching and massaging his crimson chest. I pined to do it for him … and would have done, in front of everyone, had my master not sent me on an errand. His order felt like a dagger in my stomach. I ran quickly, gave a dispatch to a courier, and by the time I got back, the battered-ram had been trundled away and the trebuchet wheeled forward. Two men on each side grunted as they turned the wheels that ran the tackle and slowly raised the mass of iron-bound oak blocks into the air. Hugh wasted no time. “What are we going to do to this?” Conan asked eagerly. “You’ll see,” Hugh answered arrogantly - which seemed to excite Conan rather than offend him. Conan stepped back as Hugh walked behind it, put one foot on the arm resting on the ground, and signaled the drop. The weight crashed to the platform and Hugh roared like a bear as he bore down with his foot. A legging seam burst open, exposing a bovine thigh – and the pivot rod cracked. The entire beam smashed through the machine with an explosion of splinters. Hugh picked up the end and wrested it free, jostling and battering the entire machine. He placed the end of the arm across his shoulders behind his neck and, draping his outside arm over the top, raised the entire thing up parallel to the ground. Then he wrapped his other arm over it . . . snorted like a bull . . . and pulled. His back opened wide like angel wings, his stomach muscles meshed like the gears of the apparatus itself, and his arms filled every space with their compressed, pulsing meat. We heard him breathing heavily in the silence. Hugh’s face contorted in angry concentration, and his elbows dipped. The short length behind his neck actually bent, issuing a CREEEAAAK SNIK-SNIK-SNIK SNIK SNIK FRACCCKK! The heavy bar split open like a monster’s toothy maw. His outside arm pulled and then twisted the broken as Hugh broken bole until it tore away. He pulled more of the bar across his implacable back. One deep breath and again his face strained, pitting the obdurate ridges of his vein-studded neck. His arms too snaked with blue veins nearly tearing through his buttery red-splotched skin. The solid oak held out as long as it could until Hugh’s arms compelled it to shiver, quake and surrender. He kept going, snapping the bar into pieces without rest, his breathing hoarse, his tender boy’s face a mask of resolute destruction. By the time he fractured the last bit, his grimace bore a terrifying resemblance to some fairy-tale demon. Slivers and chips of wood dusted his hair and body from oak exploding under unbearable pressure. Beside him, a stack of logs ready for the fire. “Magnificent!” Conan declared, unable or unwilling to stop the gushing females who pawed his dauntless, bloated arms and reverently dusted splinters from the many crevices in his back and lodged in his hair. I got a tingling sensation in my groin that he’d tear the engine apart with his bare hands with so much admiration – and indeed, he jumped onto the counter-weight and, clinging to a cross-bar with his toes, grabbed an iron strap in each hand and pulled. The iron bent up a bit but stopped. Hugh jerked them hard and broke them free, happily bending them up and back. He dropped to the ground, dragging the tortured iron with him. Then, inspired, he dragged the freed lengths toward each other and began wrapping them around each other in a giant knot. Then he yanked two fresh sections loose, working the cold metal like it was toughened leather. Showing off, he held an arm rigid and folded the metal back over itself by simply turning his wrist, zig-zagging in with tight switchbacks. At the same time, his other arm rippled as it twisted the flat iron into a spiral. Conan coughed loudly and Hugh turned, glowing in the sun and gleaming with sweat. He had saved the most trying test for last. Hugh slugged down goblets of water and gnawed on some fragrant apples, which mixed a sweetness into his rapturous he-sweat as secretions from different body areas ran and mingling together. “In war, we have not time to rest, no time for refreshment,” Conan declared. “When our enemies lay siege to our cities and hurl boulders into our walls and through our houses, how shall we respond? I want to crush them – literally.” He turned to Hugh, his bony arm outstretched toward the sacred grove. “These standing stones have weathered every winter, every storm, since time immemorial. Centuries of raging wars have neither injured nor moved them. Some say they were planted in the time before men, by Titans or Giants. Some say only Druid magic could have raised and sunk them into the fields where they mystify us to this day. Surely no mortal men could have moved such behemoths. “Young Hugh, your task is to do what neither man nor nature has ever done before you. Uproot one of those ancient monuments so it may be used to smash our enemies and their war machines. You may choose your victim – but your choice will be noted.” Conan led the way; a crowd of men tried to raise and carry Hugh on their shoulders, but the ponderous hulk proved impossible to lift and manage, so they simply surged around him like a pack of hunting dogs. Hugh scooped up the nearest two damsels and carried them like bouquets of flowers in the crook of each arm. Their dainty hands tried to squeeze the unyielding marble of those arms, twisting their hips as they did so. None of our stones are as big as the ones up north, but the field still looks strikes me as a giants’ graveyard. Hugh naturally went to the largest one, shoulder-height but a little wider than he. I wondered which weighed more, and nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity – an absurdity only to someone who had never met Hugh. While Hugh walked around the stone, inspecting clefts and lichen, Conan whispered to Houel, “even if he can only loosen it, we should be able to pull it free with a team of oxen. And he could easily build a gigantic trebuchet to launch these stones. Perhaps even a conveyance to move to them.” I shuddered. Hugh carried the focused, appraising air of a land agent, factoring dimensions, materials and weights that hobbled the imagination. Without ceremony, he dug his feet in and fell upon the weathered stone, oppressing it with focused forces beyond anything nature herself could muster. After so many efforts, Hugh drew from a deep well of virility that seemed never to run dry. The crowd tensed along with him as we waited for the monolith to give. No one doubted it could outlast the onslaught of Hugh. Never relenting the pressure he built up, Hugh managed to slip his hands, his shoulders, his legs into different positions, seeking a stronger purchase, groping with his senses toward the spot already growing weak under his duress. Worrying the monument from every angle, wearing out its grip on the earth, Hugh bullied the half-buried boulder until he found the place where Creation would buckle beneath his will A breeze ruffled through the grass … but when it passed, the grass still shivered. “Look!” I pointed. As every eye turned away from the hero and toward the ground, it humped and split. The stone listed slightly into the breach and several people fainted along with it. Hugh didn’t let up but churched the ground behind him plowing into the monolith. A hump broke upward between his legs as Hugh silently commanded the monument to lie prostrate before him. Conan choked as the yawning field disgorged waves of loam displaced by the foot of the stone being impelled up into the light. Hugh stepped back for the first time, shaking his throbbing limbs so the muscles tossed back and forth like small animals. He spent a few seconds catching his breath, and the swung himself under the leaning side, grappled for a hold, and pulled with a heavy grunt. The earth vomited in distress as Hugh dragged the stone towards the level and mashed its face toward his feet. The menhir listed drunkenly now but something deep intruded on his progress and held the stone. Hugh vigorously tugged and wiggled the tonnage, breaking the obstruction and relinquishing its hold on the monolith once again. Hugh’s arms engorged in undulating ridges, spurs and peaks. His shoulders bulged nearly as big as his head, their carved fingers digging like claws onto his arms and back. His concave belly shifted right and left, directing dominance from his legs into his arms and rippling around his frame like wind-blown sheaves of wheat. Finally, with one crippling shove, Hugh wrenched the monolith free of the earth, crammed its face into the dirt as the entombed end blasted through in an eruption of soil and small rocks. When I shook the grit out of my eyes, I could barely believe what I saw – nearly as much had been buried as stuck up from the earth. It was twice as big as it had looked, the unearthed portion was dark and wet, with clumps of mud sticking to it like the lichen huddled all over the exposed half. Nearly twice as big as Hugh, it seemed impossible to move it any further, except – maybe – to roll it down a hill (were the ground not flat). Wasting no time, Hugh walked around the far side, knelt and reached one arm over the width of the fallen warrior of time. With a HUP and a HRRRGGGGHH, Hugh leaned backward, bending like a bow. His stomach clenched in sharp relief and long rods rippled in his extended forearm. The rock rose a few centimeters but then fell back into the turf. Undeterred, Hugh nearly bounced it back up into the air – but this time, the side closest to him slipped and fell. The fact that he could lift it at all froze everyone in a tableau of wonder. He wrapped his rock-strewn arms around it and pulled, his neck bulging and face purple, but only managed to lever it off the ground and shift it sideways a bit, farther away from its empty grave. He reached underneath and drove his legs down as he raised the end as far as his knees, kneading the ground to press an advantage – but again the weight proved too much, and he had to drop it. He called for water and wide-eyed, trembling girls brought him several bowls, along with fruit and a hunk of roasted beef. He gorged himself, allowing the girls to lick the grease off his fingers. He rubbed them against the surface of the stone, peeling off layer of flint and coating them with dust. He walked around to the middle and tried to raise it laterally – it hinged up half a metre or more before it slipped free. Hugh’s face clouded with annoyance and I feared his angry fist might turn it into more manageable pieces – but he redirected his impatience into his arms. Reaching one arm over the top, he grunted and craned it a metre into the air – several people experienced spasms of a certain kind – and held it teetering while he tried to shift the weight for the next stage. But the tonnage resisted his power and bobbed toward the earth. With a strangled scream, Hugh stopped it for a moment – held it – but had to let it go. Setting his feet farther apart, he heaved yet again, grappled the monolith higher, his lower arm bursting its skin as it braced the burden, dragged his shoulders back and, staggering once, wrestled it onto thighs – where it balanced, its immensity sinking him into the soil. Hugh took three breaths, rocking back and forth with each one, then leaned further back and levitated the stone onto his chest, tottering around as the menhir fought his dominance. He sidled to a halt and paused a moment, dwarfing mass trapped by his inexorable arms. His face screwed tight with strain, Hugh pressed the under arm up, its sinews bunching and trembling, while the arm over the top actually flipped the rock over – a move that almost went wrong, had his legs not danced and buttressed him to stop it. Then his legs began to shake violently and he sank beneath the stone which pressed against his face. The crowd burst with burbling concern that he might be smashed under the giant rock, his hubris leading to a predictable end – and I was afraid if it brought him to his knees, he’d but unable to continue. But … it didn’t. He didn’t kneel. He waddled toward stonier ground, looking like an ant carrying not a crumb but the entire loaf. Hugh’s knees began knocking as he fought to stand, the perfect globes of his ass quivering in time – but he worked his hands around to the underside even as he fought to discipline his rebelling limbs. Taking advantage of what inertia he’d created, Hugh wasted no time resting but pressed the rock above him – his body near parallel to the ground. Barking ferocious groans I could feel in my breastbone, he manipulated the granite giant up as he straightened his back and fought mightily against his own shaking arms. With hoarse, whistling war-cry, the god-man-boy straightened up and pressed the menhir up until his elbows locked and framed his terrible visage. He continued bellowing as he trapped the stone mountain in the air above him, mocking its desire to reunite with the earth. He lurched several steps before stopping at the end of the softer ground and sought Conan – rooting the Duke to the spot with his eyes. He stayed that way until Conan buckled at his hips and dropped his mouth in something like awe. With a snarl, Hugh then let it drop behind him and flexed his bloated arms until the cramping made him shake them out. Once more the crowd poured over him, massaging and rubbing him – a crush Hugh might not have been able to sustain had not circumstances turned against us. His sweet odor took on a pungeant manly stink, which the air caught and carried back into the forest. Before long, a grisly roar answered Hugh’s call from the forest. My master said to Geoff, “I thought you said Hugh had scared off all the predatory animals.” “He has,” Geoff replied. “There must be a migration.” “Bears don’t migrate,” Alain said, “And that was a very angry bear. Again, a mere whiff of Hugh’s scent has driven some beast to fury.” We got a first glimpse of the foaming, shambling beast, and Geoff said with restrained panic, “Not fury, but madness,” Geoff concluded. “That bear is mad. Its bite is deadly – even a scratch can afflict a man with madness.” People stampeded for the city walls once the bear blundered sideways out of the grove and shook deadly froth from its drooling maw. Despite being clearly spent, Hugh immediately strode to face the monster – and we all felt riveted by the same thoughts – if he were too exhausted, Hugh would be no match for the bear – killed or, worse, infected. A rabid Hugh could lay waste to the entire county. The afflicted are routinely strangled before the madness takes hold, but who, or what, could constrict Hugh’s throat? The archers ran back to the castle to fetch weapons but Hugh advanced alone. “No! Hugh, I forbid it!” Geoff ordered, but Hugh responded only to a higher calling, his fatigue replaced by renewed vigor. He ripped the shredded remains of his leggings and codpiece and tore away even his undercloth, one naked beast facing another. Women tried to turn away and close their eyes, but they had lost the will to resist the sight of Hugh's golden glory. Palming two large stones, he bounced their weight – likely as much as a strong man could struggle up to his chest – and then hurled first one, then the other, in quick succession, his arms like trebuchets – only more powerful. The bear fell, struck on the head and shoulder … but rose up on two legs, now truly angry. Slinging ropes of poisonous slobber across the field, it roared and fell clumsily to all fours, lighting into a lopsided charge on legs it seemed unable to fully control. As if it were under the spell of a sorcerer’s apprentice. Hugh ranged from side to side but the bear turned and faced him, always advancing. The hero crouched on titanic legs and launched himself into the air, rising for several metres and sailing over the bear like a bird of prey. The animal stood and swatted at him but Hugh flew too far and too fast, causing the unsteady creature to fall onto its back. As it struggled back to its feet, it turned so Hugh could leap and plant himself like a spear onto its vast shaggy back. Hugh tried to wrap his arms around the giant’s chest but could barely reach – his fingers touched but couldn’t grip. The bear roared and shook violently, but Hugh’s fingers pierced the dense fur and his legs clamped over its waist. Then Hugh shook back. Savagely throwing his body from side to side, Hugh forced the bear to stumble sideways several paces before it plant its claws and hold onto the ground. He shook the bear again but it lowered itself to the ground – so Hugh threw his shoulders back with a strained grimace. And overcoming the bear’s fury, bent its spine back and its forelegs off the ground. Hugh cinched his arms and legs – the bear bellowed in pain and confusion, outmuscled by something small yet heavy and brutally irresistible. Hugh shook the bear again until its head wove back and forth, and then he arched his back and slammed that head into the ground. A look appeared in the bear’s crazed eyes – a moment of clarity, a primitive instinct for escape. The beast fought against Hugh’s strength with the renewed energies of something now fighting for its life. As Hugh’s shoulders tensed, prying the bear’s up again, it fought him, bucking and shaking, matching him strength for strength. Feeling the iron spine defy him, Hugh squeezed until the bear screamed. Every move Hugh made in directing the bear one way, the bear countered, twisting and scratching the other way. Hugh’s face contorted as his arms labored against the sturdy ribs, his fingers grappling for a link. The bear writhed violently but Hugh closed his eyes and with a hissing sound, linked his middle fingers. The beast wore stark fear on its face, its chest compressed, its hips being wrench by the horrible contortions of Hugh’s legs. I held my breath – I couldn’t tell what Hugh was trying to do, besides hang on. Slowly, by pitching his back fiercely, Hugh guided the bear to the stone he had just conquered. His eyes sharpened frightfully, and with his teeth bared and an almost-evil smile, he arched his back again and clumped the bear forward with his own indomitable torso. With claws clutching helplessly at the soil, the bear realized – as much as it could – it was losing. When Hugh coerced his captive abreast of his trophy, he flexed his entire body, lifting the bear off the ground and slamming it back down. He did it again, and again, each time gaining a greater bounce until with clenched grunt, Hugh actually flipped himself onto his back on the stone’s surface, the quarter-tonne bulk pronged above him. The animal’s legs waved in the air but Hugh’s back spread out beneath him, bracing against each terrorized thrust of the mindless brute. The boy-man had even crushed its roar down to a steady wheezing moan frothed out with its spittle. Hugh’s legs trapped the bear’s hind limbs and pulled them out and away, immobilizing them. He arched up onto his shoulders and bent that iron spine – and squeezed. Hugh shook the bear to the left and clamped his hands more tightly to its chest. He jarred it to the right and a sickening pop came out of the bear’s lower quarters. The wheeze now carried a bone-chilling whine of fear. Hugh tensed ferociously trembling with impossible effort, bending the bear's steely ribs in on themselves. Hugh’s rising growls drowned out the animal’s eerie whistling. Now gripping his wrists, he shrank the bear’s chest further through barbaric will. His arms, buried deep in the fur, rubbed slightly back and forth: their knots, harder than bone, fractured ribs. He rattled the bear like a doll, draining the dregs of its vitality with relentless determination. Its swimming forelegs slowed, and slowed further, and then merely waved as if blown by the wind. Once the bear’s legs stopped moving (though still twitching), Hugh’s legs straightened out, further disjointing its hind legs and hips. The trapped victim emitted a thin, high wail, its tongue lolled out of its mouth, a harsh gurgling sound coming with it. Hugh could have finished the bear off right there, but something terrible had been ignited in the man-boy’s chest – and further below. Hugh rolled off the stone and plopped the weakened beast onto the ground. Arching his own back, Hugh brought his legs forward and clamped them against the stove-in ribs. Pulling the bear backward again and trapping its lower torso with his own, Hugh gyrated up, his ass dimpling and clenching, his manroot thrusting through the densely matted fur. It seemed to pulse with every sharp crack echoing through the circle. His eyes feverish, the shocking obscenity of the tableau held everyone in a merciless grip. Hugh wrangled his arms up, never releasing their unbearable pressures, hands reaching for the animal's head. Gripping the rocklike skull, Hugh's chest rose like twin peaks as he stopped the bear's thrashing. His hands crept down, his bulbous forearms immobilizing the bear's head. The entire crowd buzzed with tension that ratcheted higher as Hugh linked his hands underneath its head. With a grim frown, Hugh straightened back up, fighting the bear's final desperate spasms. With a final choking splutter, the bear’s head rose in Hugh's puissant grip, its long long neck tremoring. Stretching. Tearing. Hugh’s invincible lance jousted with the arched neck, his hips slowly digging up and down. But the bear's neck was too long - even with the skull pressed into the valley of his chest, the neck did not break. He'd either have to be work his way backwards ... or ... My knees gave way weakly as Hugh's sculpted arms sprouted veins along their extreme curves. Hugh pushed the head up in a harrowing repeat of his menhir feat. A thin shrill shriek bubbled out of the gaping maw, big eyes suddenly blank with a resignation more terrible than its death throes. Hugh's elbows inched up, his hands rising to stomach-curdling wet PWOPP sounds. Hugh stretched the neck unnaturally longer even as the bear's tongue seemed to crawl out of its throat. Blood sprayed from tears in the victim’s hide, the skin rending in garish jagged slashes. Hugh grimaced as he grappled the bear's body down – down and away. Hugh pushed his arms towards the sky with renewed gristle. Through the ragged flaps of skin, I could see thick cables of muscle stretching and then rolling up into tight knots. Soon I could see the white bones floating like beads on a broken chain washed in red. His virile member erupted, spewing ropes of viscous pearlescence through the hot fur and into the ragged wounds. His legs gripped the body firmly, riding it with bucking hips and plowing himself violently against the dying beast. Finally, with a triumphant bellow that shook the stones themselves, Hugh extended his arms all the way up and sheared the bear's head off its jerking, dying torso. The torn neck fountained blood, mired with Hugh's own jetting essence streaming up through the coat like grappling ropes. Hugh’s seed-fountain continued even as the blood slowly ebbed, soaking the coat in his milky pith. He shuddered, his naked muscles rippling and drumming fleetly beneath his papery white skin, and making a final grunting cry, Hugh stubbed himself out in eye-flickering bliss. Hugh paused a moment, chest heaving with deep satisfaction, until the echoing pleasures slowly Faded. Shaking sense and awareness back into his golden-curled, blood and semen-caked head, carried the still-lethal skull, dripping blood and froth of Hugh, to the gaping pit that once housed a menhir, and dropped it in. He went back to the corpse, grabbed a loose hind-leg, and pulled it over to the grave, kicking it in. Then, in desperation or derision, I couldn’t tell, Hugh tugged the stone, bit by exhausted bit, until its immeasurable tonnes covered the tomb. Hugh turned and raised his fists over his head, his heavy arms bent and throbbing like the empurpled mast rising above his navel, shaking its own glistening fist. But only briefly - he sank down, hands on his knees his shoulders sinking and his back sagging. Then he was lost as cheering soldiers surrounded him and, in a joint effort, raised him to his feet and half-carried him away from the slung saliva and gore, to a grassy rise shaded by the setting sun. The women broke through the soldiers with kettles and bowls of cool and steaming water, shouldering them away like an invading army. Over their heads I heard him mutter “meat,” and platters passed hand to hand from the high table directly to him. Sating himself, he fell into a deep slumber, oblivious of the hands massaging oils into his muscles. Soon the jealous guards rallied and drove the women away, circling him and facing out to keep so many hungry eyes and hands at bay. Geoff had excused Hugh from the rest of his chores that afternoon, so after I finished mine and got something to eat, I returned to his pallet. He was fast asleep on his back, lying flat on his back with only a modest cloth around his loins. The air near him shimmered torridly, and sweat beaded on my forehead and under my arms. I quickly doffed my togs and draped myself over his mounded form. He stirred slightly, his barrel chest rising, but otherwise I may as well have been a light blanket. Arousal chases my fatigue away, and take advantage of last night’s offer and stretch my limbs, pressing my body against his muscles – firm yet pliable at rest, their density defied my penetrating fingers, but I could press and caress them, trace the expansive flesh as it narrows and gathers into steely tendons. His blood pulsed slowly through them, perfectly balancing his other humors and restoring his incalculable vitality. My own loin covering stirred as I rubbed against the serpent sleeping between the pillows of its generative nest. The serpent rose slightly, stirring waves through Hugh’s body which undulated and stretched in sleep. His mouth pursed and opened slightly and, overcome with desire, I gripped his upper arms and slid myself up onto his chest. My own member lay erect in the alley that ran down the center of his cobbled abdomen – it fit perfectly, caressed and massaged as those muscles rose and fell as he breathed. From the barrel-crest of his chest, I reached down and placed a daring kiss on his thick, languid lips. Still asleep, his mouth accepted mine, rubbing against my lips. I nuzzled the down around his chin and let my tongue slip out, seeking his. His tongue also sought mine and they caressed one another and explored each other’s hot, wet den. My own drool flowed strongly, lubricating our fun, and a distant, dreamy smile invited me to display greater passion. I sucked his lips and licked his teeth, and when I felt his hands land lightly on my ass, I shuddered in anticipation and a little fear: if he rolled over and didn’t wake up, could I support his weight or would I be crushed or suffocated by Hugh’s ponderous magnitude? I stretched my arms over his and wrapped my legs over his thighs, encouraging him to stay put but offering my nether orifice for his rising python. He gripped me tighter, so tightly I winced and bit his lip by mistake – his eyes opened drowsily and for a moment, we gazed at each other with his hands clasping hindside. Just then a sharp laugh startled us both (and several of the horses). Hugh raised his head as I turned and saw a buxom young maid with a startled look on her face. “You boys are incorrigible!” she said a little loudly. Hugh rose up on his elbows and sloughed me off to the side, where I adjusted my loin cloth and blazed bright red. She paid me no mind. “All rested, hero?” she said saucily, tugging coyly at the lace that held her bodice together. “How would you like a real woman to satisfy you. I promise it’ll be better than some smelly bear.” She spread her knees and pressed a palm into her skirt with an open mouth. Heat kindled in Hugh’s eyes and his groin snake bobbed up through the folds of his cloth. She walked backward toward a stack of hay bales in the shadows. Forgetting me, Hugh rose – like a mountain growing before my eyes, or a dragon taking off from its lair, his body simply kept going and going and going until he was up and around the corner. But Hugh stopped short, looking uncertain. “Come on,” she cooed. “No one will care. You’re a man now. You do what you want.” Hugh fidgeted against the cloth restraint binding his eagerness. “My master said I would grow weak if I did it. I don’t even, you know, do myself. Not as often as other boys.” “You’re no boy, and no man is your master,” she chided. “Not even the king can rival you. Besides, we all saw what you did to that bear. Are you weak now?” She threw a horseshoe, which he caught. Spreading the fingers of that one hand around the prongs but not taking his eyes off her, Hugh squeezed – and crushed the metal shoe as if it were clay, until it snapped in two. Yet he didn’t let it go – gathering both parts into his palm, he folded them in half – both at the same time – until the outmatched steel could bend no further and broke again. His clenched the pieces in his fist and mashed it again, his forearm filling with rocks that scrubbed against each other. A metallic tinkling seeped out between his white-knuckled fingers. When he opened his fist, shattered fragments of steel rained to the floor, unidentifiable as having ever been a forged horse shoe. “Guess not,” he replied with sheepish excitement. The maid had watched wide-eyed, bosom heaving and mouth opening and semi-closing in excitement of her own. Though she massaged both her breasts and released them, she stiffened and shivered as if fulfillment had ignited without any external stimulation. Her eyes hooded with breathless hunger. “Then, what are you waiting for?” she half-dared, half-begged him huskily. That was it. His loin cloth ripped around his vibrant erection has he flung it away and pulled her to him, immediately entering her. She gasped as his girth stretched her open more than ever before, but he didn’t rush to the finish line. Hugh’s natural instinct for lovemaking took over – building, teasing, pulling back, slowing down then racing, all the while withholding his essence. His manfunk wafted through the stable with a delirious mixture of wild musk and protective warmth. Her eyes rolled up into her head – however vigorously he slid in and out, he was gentler, more controlled – stronger – than any man she’d been with. And … he made her wetter than ever before. Mixed with the leakage from his powerful organ, they slid against each other like eels. She clutched at the hay behind her, her nipples like craters as another pleasure wave washed through her. Again, instinctively, Hugh let her subside and then whipped her up until the storm broke in her several times before he unleashed his own deluge. Hugh’s arm shot out and grabbed a shovel, the blade warping in his grip. He shot into her with such force she instantly came again, biting her lip to stay quiet. His ass dimpled and writhed for so long I realized I would get no sleep tonight – perhaps never again. My own midsection rocked as I spurted in envious sympathy. I massaged myself dry with my under cloth and was about to return to the pallet, when I saw it – he wasn’t pulling out. He was clearly still turgid. Still filling her. Still thrusting. She smiled hungrily, grabbing his ass and pulling herself against him. He slammed into her hard this time, again and again, jiggling her breasts and body, shattering her composure and driving her to wild abandon. She thrashed and ground herself against in rhythm against him, whipping her loosened hair from side to side and moaning gutterally like a cow in calving. In full control and awareness of their danger, Hugh smoothly grabbed a leather work glove and gently shoved it into her mouth. She chewed it like it was dinner. He came again, dimpling longer than before but sluicing in and out and spilling long tendrils of cock drool. I stayed crouching, hardening again and barely aware of the pain. And as I suspected, he didn’t quit. More like he was still getting warmed up. But the maid began to flag, endless pleasure addling her brain. She shuddered periodically, ranging between an empty smile and a tense incomprehension that only Hugh’s persistence could dismiss. Her sopping hair lay lank over her shoulders, her breathing hitching from his power and then siking into a heavy, coarse wheeze. He came a fourth time and she moaned in mindless pleasure and pain. His seed spurted down and ricocheted off his pendulous ball sac … as if she were full. For the first time, he pulled out completely, his knob painted her belly and breasts with his man-lime. A steady stream ran down her legs slowly, like freshly-rendered glue. His sword waved challengingly, throbbing with purple ardor. His exhales came fast and heavy and his red eyes burned with feverish intensity. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do but then, face enlivening, he lifted her into the air, spun her around and did what I had so longed for: took her bunghole like a rutting beast. The pain shocked her awake and she screamed into the glove. Her torso impulsively clenched around him but hadn’t the strength to expel the invader. Sliding her up and down on his breed shaft with one hand, he pulled out the glove stuck his fingers in her mouth, attacking her defenses on two fronts. Her panic retreated and as they joined into a single oscillating being, his body commanded hers to banish pain and feed greedily on pleasure alone. Obediently, her body obeyed and her tension fell away like the tattered remnants of her clothing. He bobbed her up and down endlessly before clenching his ass and releasing another eruption of manly lava. Feeling his own control fight for command against greedy, voluptuous gluttony, he wrapped one arm around a stud and squeezed. His arm crunched into the wood – splinters broke out around it. He squeezed pitilessly as the ecstasy of another tidal wave rolled out of him and utterly submerged her. Solid oak creaked and split loudly. Finally he eased down, left the poor oak post alone, and rested his back against a high stack of hay, holding her up with one hand and simply staying still. But staying within her. Not softening. Not at all. The crippled beam groaned as the weight of the roof shifted into its weakness. The groaning excited Hugh and he slowly began plumbing her for a sixth time. Something broke in my mind – a relaxation, an acceptance of such unbelievable strength and stamina. A kind of faith moved my heart that I never felt at mass. My body responded by releasing another white libation, globs of it billowing forth before the ecstacy could catch up – it rushed in late and quaked me to my soul, submitting my life to this thundering, earth-shaking deity before me. Hugh focused intently on her, careful not to bruise or injure her as he ground her back and forth in semi-circles. Her limbs flopped randomly, their motions aimless and simply sparking off stray bolts of joy her weaker frame could not contain. She shuddered again as another convulsion gripped her, and her seizure gripped him and undammed yet another flood of his virility into her guts. Not only the stream down her legs increase, now from two willsprings within her, but her belly began to bloat. Hugh looked as though this premature release – stimulated by her and not commanded by him – had cheated him. He stayed in and bucked her a little roughly, making her jaw chatter loosely, until he pasted her insides a seventh time. Ignoring how her rib cage expanded in his grip, Hugh plunged deeper with an urgency he hadn’t shown before. His bull-balls slapped the back of her ass as he chased the shimmering bliss he caught so easily again and again. His back stiffened and spread apart and the overflow of another cascade splattered his nutsack and thighs. Her eyes opened with bemused surprise as she belched and … smelled Hugh in it. The maid passed out completely and slumped on him, twitching and jerking like a dreaming dog. His face glowing with greed for a vein of gold that ran deeper and deeper into the mountain, he kept excavating for it. A series of short hard rams made her burp his salty musk, made her breasts flop along with her arms and nodding head. The hammering sped faster and faster until his cheeks became a blur. Then suddenly he stopped and mashed her down as if he were trying to snap his manhood off. But that prong stood up to him defiantly and rebuffed his efforts. Within the frenzy of his ninth fusillade, a heavenly smile pierced his face like a sunbeam after a storm eliciting a heavenly smile to spread across his face. The sun banished the storm and he slowed down to a steady strum. Pinning her against a wall of hay with only his horn of plenty, he put his hands on his hips and wiggled them, watching her bob like a puppet. Hugh didn’t like her leaving him alone like that - so he leaned forward, placing one fist on either side of the hay beside, and supported her with It while staring intently into her face. His presence penetrated her dazed mind and dragged her back to consciousness – while he stayed still, spreading and pulsing with her, her own grinding movement down below betrayed her return to paradise. He began slow rotations, lazy figure eights that hardened him until his balls hitched. Then, again, he became … perfectly … still…. But she shook with warring tensions and seized with unhinged rapture. He grinned with masterly hauteur and withheld himself until she scratched violently at him and seemed she’d shake herself apart if he did not feed her. Still he waited until her panting desperation opened her eyes – he locked them to his – and she seemed to wither and bloom at the same time within his gaze, her mind turning inside out beneath the fullness of his revelation. Still he waited. Still he grinned. Finally, drool spilled in rivulets out of her mouth, followed by a plaintive mewling bordering on despair. He nodded, slowly, over and over as he felt her identity disintegrate – and then he released the hounds of war. Her chest inflated from the inside, a strangled cry of incredulous surrender rose from her gaping mouth, and her breath, redolent of his salt, filled the air and made the horses rustle and neigh. His own fecund odor returning to him from inside her kept his demonic prick sharp as he tunneled even deeper into the mountain for that skein of gold. His muscles flinched - he had ridden himself raw – and now every motion exploded in his brain. A mere normal man would pull away, flee, his brain melting. But Hugh was made better. He carried her gingerly to a worktable, sweeping clean its surface with his arm, and laid her down. He stood upright so that the pressure bore down on his virility, and though it bounced her up a little, it soon settled down. Standing there, hands on his hips, his massive chest rising and sinking like storm billows on the open see, he defied every extreme sensation – he refused to withdraw, he would not pass out. Hugh willed every impulse into submission, and wrung the savor out of each moment. They could not gang up on him. They could not overcome his control. His chest rolled triumphantly as he disciplined his own rebellious passions and directed them to serve him one more time. The lightning from this battle shot into her. She twitched wildly, arms and legs spasming and battering his ram inside her. He conducted the unbearable pleasures until he chose to let them go. Throwing his head back, he barked and howled, reached up and grabbed a roof joist: and each time her leg kicked or her hand flicked, his fingers sank deeper into the splintering oak. He swayed there, his head shaking slowly back and forth and veins pounding in his neck. With a moan of pure satisfaction, his shoulders twitched and his hips swiped her back and forth across the table. He froze and braced his legs and ass. An eleventh milking surged into the maid. Her body swelled, her neck fattened – and his puissance gushed out of her moaning mouth in driving bursts. My body wrenched a third helpless time together with gripping alarm. I felt immobilized but somehow I shouted, “Sir!” as his seed trickled out of her nose and not only from her ears, but also her eyes, like pearly tears. Hugh’s eyes whipped open and he turned and glared in mad fury. I fell back, my cock now heaving drily, and mustered all my courage. “She needs a doctor!” He looked back and for the first time saw the swollen main, his viscous ichor still seeping from her head. He pulled out suddenly and a bucket’s worth of slime whooshed out and all over his legs. He lifted her in one arm and, with the other, battered a hole in the side of the stable. He ran into the village, naked and not only erect but still foaming like … like a mad bear. He woke the doctor by breaking his door in half. The doctor clutched his blanket in terror, then saw the girl and jumped up so Hugh could place her on the bed. Though he was no longer in her, the overflow continued to leak out, spreading slowly over her body. All the time, though her eyes fluttered pure white, the smile never left her lips. The doctor pushed gently on her belly and semen oozed from several openings at both ends. He turned around and, seeing Hugh’s still-drooling plowshare, started in amazement before recovering himself. “Young man, I’ll take it from here.” Tears stained Hugh’s beautiful features. “I didn’t mean to … will she be all right?” “I’ve never seen anything like this,” the old man confessed. “So long as nothing inside her has burst, she should pull through. Though I doubt she’ll ever be the same. You should prepare yourself however: I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a father, several times over. Such prodigious … vigor … might likely plant a prodigy of seedlings in this young girl.” Turning away, he muttered again, “Like an Irish rabbit.” Hugh seemed stricken so I gripped his unyielding arm tight as I could. “Come, you should rest again. And I can’t carry you if you fall asleep stark naked in the street.” Hugh shuffled out and embarrassedly propped the shattered boards door back in the doorway. Overcome with a surge of relief or joy or something, he grabbed and lifted me high into the air, shook me wildly with an ecstatic grin on his face, and draped me over his shoulder like a potato sack. I could feel the slimy slap of his dick against my feet as he trotted down the moonlit street. My hands explored the battlements of his back under the guise of holding on: the central pennant-poles, the squarish berms of annealed flesh over each shoulder blade, and the ramparts that spread to either side. The feeling his shoulder rippling back and forth against my belly made me come again but, having nothing left, it hurt more than anything. I wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Back in the stable reeking of fornication, he flung me onto his pallet and stared down proudly. “My friend!” he said, beaming, chest flaring. Then, treating me more like a pet than a friend, he lay down beside me, enclosed me with his irresistible arm-mass and tucked my face into the deep pit of foggy musk between his chest and back. He fell to sleep immediately but my heart raced like a hunting hound. His bushy hairs tickled my forehead and soon his peace encompassed me. I dreamed I was running beside him and wagging my tale forever and ever. THE END

Twenty-three Tomas breathed out loudly and rubbed his tired eyes. He had been decrypting the final part of the document for hours and was on the verge of completing his translation. He closed the book and decided to continue the following day. He got up from his chair and headed over to the bed where his pet was recovering. Anton’s beastly body was covered in dark blue en black bruises from the severe torture it had undergone. His thick muscles had protected his organs against the hard blows but the repeated beatings by Matt had inflicted some serious damage: an ordinary muscular guy would have been killed. “Time for your daily treatment”, Tomas said and held his hands over his pet’s body. “Restitutionem salubris, bestia meae! Revigorationem corpus suis! Ego! Hic! Nunc!”, he said and an infernal scream echoed through the room. Small lightning bolts shot from his hands and invaded the battered mounds of muscles on Anton’s body. The muscles shivered and tensed each time the infernal energy hit them. Faint grunts of pain escaped Anton’s mouth. The grunts got louder and louder and turned in pain filled screams as the stings awoke him from his deep sleep. He tried to raise his hands in a protective reflex but his ravaged body didn’t respond to his brain’s commands. Tomas deepened his concentration and the lightning bolts doubled in size as they kept raining down onto his pet. “AUGH! NOOOOO! AUGH!”, Anton roared in pain. Outside, the big wolves howled in response to the deep scream. Tomas opened his eyes and ended the treatment. He stared down at his pet and let him sink in a deep sleep. Sean and Keith didn’t understand what was taking Logan to report back to them. They decided to go see him and left their room. They cautiously scanned the hallway and headed over to Logan’s room. They turned around a corner and smacked into a hard wall. The frail boys bounced off and fell backward to the floor. Connor looked down as he felt a soft smack against his 12-pack. He smiled as he recognized his skinny brother and his roommate. “Isn’t it past baby bedtime?”, he said. Sean and Keith stared up at the tower of muscle they had just hit. Connor seemed even bigger from their perspective on the floor. “Your still the same size”, Keith blurted out. “Off course, I am”, Connor stated with a grin. “When will my muscles return to me then?”, Keith peeped in his high-pitched voice. “Never”, Connor replied. “But…”, Keith mumbled and all color drained from his face. “You fool”, Connor said, “you really didn’t think I was going to give up my size, did you? Your muscles are mine since the moment I drained them from you, bro. And I’m not giving them back ever. Not an ounce of them. I really enjoy being this big and they look way better on me.” Connor bounced his pecs as he spoke, making them dance under his skin-tight shirt. Keith’s mouth hung open but no sound came out. Tears filled his eyes as he realized that his muscles were gone forever. “O, look”, Connor said, “the baby’s gonna cry.” “And what about your uncle?”, Sean asked. “Tomas had foreseen everything”, Connor answered, “He knew those priests were coming but his powers were already beyond their comprehension. He could take them down easily. He just needed them to find out where you boys had hidden Anton.” “But you promised I would get my muscles back. You helped them defeat Tomas!”, Keith yelled in anger. He jumped up and began pounding his little fists against his brother’s steely stomach. Connor’s baritone laugh rumbled against the walls. He let his weak, older brother hit his relaxed abs as he continued speaking to Sean. “It was a trap Tomas planned for them. I made them and you believe I would back them up in the fight. All I needed was the exact location where you held Anton. I got it from you. They were no match for Tomas’ powers and he easily got rid of those priests. Your weak pats will never hurt my relaxed abs, bro.” Connor lifted his shirt and revealed the bottom rows of his deeply grooved 12-pack. Keith lowered his thin arms in defeat as he stared at the impossibly hard stomach of his younger brother. Even though he had hit the exact same spot with every punch, his brother’s abs were clearly unharmed; they didn’t even look reddish where his punches had hit. He looked up in anger at his brother and threw a final punch with all the force his frail, 90 pound body could summon. Connor grinned and instinctively flexed his abs, turning the already steely hard 12-pack in an impenetrable armor. Keith peeped in pain as his weak fist hit his brother’s stomach; a concrete wall would have been softer. “You boys lost. Face it.”, Connor said, “I’m gonna check on Alex. I wonder how he looks after draining the wrestle coach’s and Logan’s muscles.” He strutted away. Sean and Keith just stared at each other as the behemoth disappeared down the hallway. “You were right, buddy”, Keith said, “There’s no more good in my brother. He’s just as evil as Tomas and Anton. How will we ever stop them if Logan’s lost his muscles too?”. “I… I really don’t know anymore”, Sean answered weakly. Alex was preparing for football practice when he heard the door of his room open. He exited his bathroom and smiled at Connor. “How does it feel to be really big?”, Connor asked with a smug grin on his face. “Beyond my wildest dreams. I feel like I’m unstoppable. I feel strong like a tank. Could crush anybody”, Alex said and rubbed his big paws over the mass of his protruding pecs. “I know”, Connor replied, “but you couldn’t stop me, buddy”. “Sound like a challenge”, Alex said and shoved his chest against his fellow behemoth’s one to intimidate him. Connor had to step back slightly by the impact and noticed the smirk on Alex’ face. “Seems like your words are tougher than your muscles”, Alex stated. He put his hands on his hips and flared his lats to emphasize the broadness of his new physique. “I’ll take you on right here”, Connor answered and clenched his fist, making his 45 inch arms ripple. Alex looked at the other behemoth’s bulging biceps and grinned. “It’ll take more than those sticks to beat me”, he said and flexed his right arm. The oversized cannonball rose atop his beastly arm. Connor didn’t believe his eyes. He just stared at the vein-infested orb of meat that exploded in height and girth in front of him. His mind tried to process the incredible size of the insanely huge muscle. He gulped as he realized that Alex’ arm clearly outsized his and even Anton’s. Alex grinned at Connor’s reaction. “Too bad I don’t have time now”, he said, “I’ve got football practice in like ten minutes ago. But I’ll be happy to take you down afterward. I’ll wait in the locker room.” He lowered his arm, grabbed his gym bag and tossed it onto his boulder like shoulder. He put his left paw on Connor’s beefy chest and shoved him aside. Connor lost his balance and fell backward on the bed as Alex’ titanic, 55 inch left arm pushed with full force. “And don’t worry, I’ll go easy on ya”, Alex said laughingly and left the room. In the locker room Paul told the team what had happened to Logan. Since Alex hadn’t shown up, he was now the biggest guy on the team. His fellow teammates were outraged by what had happened to their popular captain and agreed to take down Alex as soon as possible. Paul was chosen to replace Logan as captain on the football field. Everyone agreed that Logan would remain on the team as a player. They put on their gear and rushed out on the field. The coach was giving his instructions as the mouths of several players fell open: Alex had appeared on the field. “Not starting without the star player, I hope”, Alex boomed in his deep baritone voice. He looked down on the other players. “The coach decides when we start. Besides, you’re late”, Paul said and stepped in front of his teammates to stare at Alex. Alex just laughed. His fully geared up teammate was way smaller than him and he was only wearing the tight shirt he’d taken from Logan. “I don’t think coach minds I’m a little late”, Alex replied. The coach nodded silently. He knew very well that this beast now ran the team. “And I’ll take this”, Alex said and grabbed the black ribbon from Paul’s arm, “Only the big guys can be team captain. Let’s play ball, boys!”. “Alright”, the coach yelled, “make two teams and let’s practice!”. The players automatically grouped with Paul as they wouldn’t let Logan down. “I said two teams!”, the coach yelled. “It’s fine, coach”, Alex replied, “I’ll take Logan and that guy on my team.” He pointed at a small guy with black hair. “Okay”, the coach yelled, “Logan and Zach go stand with Alex.” “But coach”, Paul protested. “Do it!”, Alex bellowed deeply. Practice began and every player avoided contact with Alex’ monstrous body. Two bulky, 220 pound guys tried to stop him but he simply trampled them like bugs. Within fifteen minutes, Alex’ team was leading the score. The other players simply dropped the ball when they saw the behemoth storming in their direction. He scored point after point, his deep baritone voice echoing over the field as he roared in triumph. Suddenly, Logan got the ball and rushed toward the end zone. The other team formed a wall of players to stop him: four 150-ish pound guys blocked his way. Yesterday he would have easily busted through but now they formed an impassable block for his 90 pound body. He was about to drop the ball when his feet left the ground. “Don’t worry, flatback”, Alex boomed behind him. He lifted Logan at the back of his jersey and held him in front of his 500 pound body. The other guys didn’t have enough time to jump aside. The behemoth stormed into them at full speed, letting Logan take the impact of their athletic frames. Alex released Logan and passed the ball to Zach, who scored. He rushed over to Zach and patted him on the back, knocking over the small guy. “Sorry man. Don’t know my own strength”, Alex said as he picked up his knocked down teammate. The coach ended the game. “Already?”, Alex said, “I’m just getting warmed up”. “Your teammates can take much more”, the coach said and pointed at the bruised players, “I need them for the upcoming game. And I think Logan’s out cold. Get him to the infirmary, guys.”. “Fine”, Alex replied, “but the bulk squad can use some extra training. You mind if we continue?”. “Carry on for as long as needed”, the coach said and led the battered players off the field. “And you stay too”, Alex bellowed to Zach, “Can’t face all of them on my own, teammate.” Reluctantly, Zach returned to the field. The other guys weighed at least twice as much as he did. Anger filled Paul, Matt and Mike as they saw their teammates carry away the battered Logan. “Focus all our attacks on Alex, guys”, Paul said, “Let him have it!”. The three bulky players lined up and stared angrily at the smiling behemoth in front of them. “Ready, buddy?”, Alex ask as he positioned himself behind Zach. He couldn’t see the 5’7 guy since he didn’t came up past his chest. “Yep”, Zach replied. He looked up but only saw the protruding rack of pecs stretching the shirt to its limits. Somehow he felt strangely safe with the behemoth towering over him. “Go!”, Alex bellowed so deeply the vibrations rattled his 125 pound teammate. Zach got the ball and rushed toward the wall of muscle formed by Paul, Matt and Mike. He braced himself for impact. Suddenly his feet left the ground and he felt himself flying through the air: Alex had grabbed him and launched him toward the end zone. Paul, Mark and Mike stared up as the frail guy flew over them. The trembling motion of the field made look down again. “No”, Matt let out as he stared at the behemoth storming right at them. Alex crashed into their defensive line and smacked them down. The three bulky football players felt like they had been hit by a train. Their heavy, over 250 pounds of muscle frames filled with pain as they collided with the ground. Their defense had been unbroken for two straight years until now. “Seems like we need a better defensive line”, Alex said laughingly and congratulated his teammate on the score. Zach accepted the behemoth’s praise and smiled. He knew it was wise to keep on the good side of his gigantic teammate. Paul, Matt and Mike got up slowly and painfully. For the first time in several years they actually felt scared on the football field. “Final round, boys”, Alex boomed before they could react, “We’ll take defense this time!”. Zach looked in fear at the three big players in front of him. Even fully exhausted, each one of them could easily crush him. He turned around to run for it, but a big paw lifted him in the air and within seconds he sat in the neck of his huge teammate. “Relax, buddy”, Alex said, “I’m not gonna let my teammate get hurt. You’ll be safe up there.” Zach grabbed hold of the incredibly thick traps to steady himself. He marveled at the size of the muscle and let his hands wander over the hard surface. His cock began hardening as he reached the perfectly round cannonball-sized shoulders. The hard masses of beef felt like hot marble under his touch. A mild shudder made him look down. Paul, Matt and Mike had charged at full speed at the behemoth and crashed their bulky frames into Alex. The impact cut off their breath. Alex just smiled. He had been hit by three muscular guys, weighing each over 250 pounds, and he had barely noticed it. He had flexed his strong 12-pack to take the blow and his abs had easily withstood the attack. He began moving to the end zone, dragging along the three guys hanging onto him. Paul, Matt and Mike couldn’t believe the giant was still standing. Their eyes widened in disbelief as he began moving them backward. The three members of the bulk squad dug their heels in the grass and resisted with all the strength they could summon from their battered frames. Alex tapped onto the full force of his thick quads, the gigantic muscles flexing and relaxing with every step. He picked up speed and began shoving back the defensive line. With every step his speed went up and soon enough he was storming at full speed toward the end zone, ignoring the weight hanging on him. Zach stared in shock at the scene. The bulk squad had always been unstoppable on the football field and now they were carried around like ragdolls. His dick jolted to full hardness, poking against the meaty trap, as he realized how powerful his new teammate was. Alex tossed down the football and slammed the three battered players on the ground. He turned his attention to the defeated bulk squad. Logan, Paul and Matt were grunting in pain as their behemoth teammate smacked them hard on the field. For the first time ever the three heavily muscled jocks saw black dots dancing for their eyes. They looked up at the 500 pound giant towering over them, gasping as they realized Alex still looked as fresh as he did before practice. Alex grinned down at the battered star athletes and grabbed Matt jersey. He effortlessly picked up the 255 pound jock with his left arm. “You should bulk up, skinny boy. Your weight doesn’t challenge my mighty arm”, he said as he raised his squirming teammate until he looked him straight in the eye. Alex put both his huge paws under Matt’s armpits and began pushing his paws together. Matt grunted in pain as his protective armor was being pushed into his battered torso. He tried freeing him from the tightening grip but it was no use: whatever he tried, the behemoth’s paws overpowered him completely. He gave up the fight as the last bit of energy left his drained muscles. He just hung in the giant’s grasp, knowing that his armor would protect him. Alex noticed his teammate giving up the fight. “Yeah! Finally realized you’re no match for a real man, boy?”, he said and tightened his grip even more, making thick veins explode on the cable-sized muscles on his lower arms. His plump dick started hardening in his tight boxers as he enjoyed dominating the former stars of the football team. Matt let out more pain filled grunts as the hard armor pressed more against his torso. He gasped in pain as a loud breaking sound shot through the air: the protective armor, made to withstand the weight of a truck, burst under the pressure. Pain cut off his breath as several of his now unprotected ribs broke as well. Alex threw down the battered Matt. He bellowed in triumph and raised his monstrous, pumped arms in the air. Zach immediately rubbed his hands along the beastly biceps. Even fully extended in the air, the massive muscles outsized a football. His cock blasted four loads down his pants. Alex felt the hot warmth spreading against his meaty trap and remembered the frail teammate sitting in his neck. He lowered the 125 pound guys from his neck and gently patted his back. “Good game, man.”, Alex said and strutted away from the field. Connor turned his head as he heard the door of the locker room slam open. Within seconds a shadow fell over him as Alex stood in front of him. Energy and testosterone were flowing through his veins after dominating the entire football team. Alex recognized the other behemoth and stormed over to him to take full control of him. “I’ve just trashed the biggest athletes of the football team. Told ya I was unstoppable”, he said as he flared his pumped lats and made his body even broader. Connor just grinned and stood up, looking Alex straight in the eye. He knew very well he outsized the guy with a good 60 pounds of pure muscle. “You didn’t take on any real men”, he replied coolly. Anger filled Alex’ body; no one had stood up to him since he got big. “Then fell my power!”, he yelled and slammed his fist into the hard stomach in front of him. Connor was taken by surprise: Alex’ punch came that fast he didn’t have time to react. Before he could even slightly flex his abs, the steely paw smacked right into them. He doubled over as the fist sank into his armor-like 12-pack and knocked the wind out of him. Alex grabbed Connor’s hair and pulled him up. “Now feel the power of my 55 inch arms”, he bellowed and wrapped his arms around the other behemoth’s lower back. Connor gasped as the air was forged out of his longs by the bone crushing bear hug. The speed of Alex’ attacks had totally taken him by surprise. He began squirming and flexing his huge muscles and felt the giant’s hold loosening. Alex sensed Connor’s resistance. He lifted the behemoth in his grasp slightly up to make him lose contact with the floor. “Now your mine!”, he grunted and hardened his hold. His plump dick hardening more and more as he continued dominating the muscular beast. Connor’s head shot back in pain as the cannonball-sized, steely hard, 55 inch orbs of meat that were Alex’ biceps dug into his flanks. His own strong obliques were no match for those mounds of muscle. He could also feel the hardness of the giant’s growing dick against his own titanic quad. “Ready to bow for your master?”, Alex asked as he dug his biceps even harder into Connor’s flanks. He released his hold and staggered backward as a hard knee hit his half hard cock. Connor didn’t give Alex time to recover. He took in a deep breath and stormed over to the other behemoth. He grabbed his throat and lifted him up. Before Alex could react, his feet left the floor and he was slammed down. He grunted in pain as his broad back collided with the wooden table in the center of the locker room, shattering it to shreds as he crashed through it to the floor. “That all you got?”, he asked as he got up. Connor simply rammed his hard fist into Alex’ 12-pack in response. Alex doubled over as the fist kept hitting his abs. Again and again and again. He flexed his stomach and the next punch bounced off the deeply grooved surface. Connor kept throwing punches to destroy the hard abs. Alex’ abs absorbed most of the impact and the behemoth inhaled deeply to recover. He suddenly wrapped his thick arms around Connor again and took him in another bear hug. “I’ll crush you like I crushed the others on the football field”, he grunted. Connor’s hurt obliques protested in pain as Alex’ steely biceps dug into them once more. He slammed his fists hard onto the fleshy traps atop the behemoth’s neck. Alex gasped in pain and released his hold. Before Connor could react, he smacked his fist into 12-pack, knocking the wind out of his opponent. Connor doubled over as the fist busted through his unflexed abs. He put his left hand on his thick quad, trying to catch his breath. He looked up at Alex and raised his right hand in a protective reflex. “Finally know your place?”, Alex snickered. He turned around and headed for the door. Connor wasn’t going to give up the fight just yet. He got up and quickly closed the distance between him and his opponent’s back. He shoved him in the broad back with full force, making the behemoth crash toward the door. Alex was surprised by the powerful push. He quickly raised his arms to prevent himself from crashing into the door. As his hands touched the door, two strong arms came up under his own titanic ones and two thick paws locked at the back of his head. Connor hardened his full nelson to take down his opponent. No one had ever escaped his grasp in this powerful hold. He summoned all his strength to neutralize Alex’ threatening, 55 inch arms and to force him into submission. Alex squirmed and budged in the wrestler’s hold but he couldn’t free himself. His almighty arms were locked out off the struggle. “Not so tough after all, hey. I do outsize ya with 60 pounds of beef”, Connor said in his ear, “Nice fight you’ve put on though”. He rocked his opponent back and forth a little, savoring how he dominated the 500 pound beast. Alex grunted in pain and anger at the taunts. He suddenly raised his legs and put his feet against the door. He pushed with all the might of his tree-sized quads and sent him and Connor tripping backward. Connor blinked in surprise as he lost his balance and staggered backward. He didn’t break his hold; Alex wasn’t going to escape him. He groaned in pain as his broad back crashed into the metal lockers on the other side of the locker room. More pain exploded through him as Alex’ beastly, 500 pound frame sandwiched him and pushed him deeper into the locker. Alex broke free from the weakened hold and swiftly turned around to face his opponent. His first punch hit Connor’s stomach with the speed of light. Connor flexed his 12-pack to protect his battered body. Alex first punch had almost busted through his defenses by the sheer force the 55 inch arm produced. Punch after punch rained down onto his abs. He could feel the metal locker giving in and denting further as his broad back kept being slammed against it by the impact of the punches. His abs began protesting under the onslaught. Alex felt the grooved 12-pack getting weaker and heard the faint grunts of pain as his punches kept slamming into Connor. An evil smile formed on his lips. He pulled back his fist and tapped onto the full force of his 55 inch arm as he rammed into the other behemoth’s stomach. Connor’s protesting abs succumbed as the steely fist hit them like a wrecking ball. His 560 pound body was lifted up and his feet slightly left the floor by the impact as the thick fist sank into his stomach. Alex pulled back his fist and rammed it again into the battered stomach before stepping back smilingly. His dick hardened once more as he bellowed in triumph. Connor slumped to the floor, the imprint of his broad frame clearly visible in the lockers, and coughed up some blood. He got up on his hands and knees and looked up at the behemoth that towered over him: Alex’ pumped muscles stretched the tight shirts beyond its limits, his sweat had glued it onto him like a second skin and rips decorated the fabric in several places, in his pants a growing snake was clearly outlined against the mass of his beastly, right quad. “There’s a good boy”, Alex said laughingly and patted Connor on the head as if he was talking to a dog. Connor refused to go down though. He summoned every drop of strength left in his body. He got up on his feet and slammed his thick, round shoulder into Alex’ 12-pack. His 560 pounds of muscle added force to the impact. Alex blinked in surprise at Connor’s attack. He grunted as the strong shoulder hit his stomach and the blow shoved him backward. Connor held his shoulder against his opponent, grabbed his flanks and pushed with all his remaining force. His meaty quads exploded outward as the mighty muscles flexed. He looked down in shock as he saw the other behemoth’s quads harden too. Alex flexed his legs to withstand Connor’s force. He could feel diminish the impact of the attack as his quads bulged with power. His 500 pound body didn’t move another inch despite his opponent’s loudening grunts. Alex decided to end things: he locked his hands together as if preparing to pray, he raised them high above his head and slammed them down with full force against Connor’s exposed, broad back. Connor’s knees simply gave away as what felt like a comet hit his muscular back. He crashed down to the floor, his hands wielding in the air in vain to grab onto something for support. It surprised him he felt his body get up again, but he quickly realized what was happening: Alex had picked him up from the floor. Alex knew he’d taken down his opponent the instant his strong hands collided with the muscular back and knocked him down. He quickly lifted Connor from the floor and took him in a final bear hug. Connor screamed in pain as Alex smacked him against his protruding chest and wrapped his huge arms around his lower back. His battered, 560 pound body didn’t have enough strength left to protect him anymore. His worn out muscles didn’t respond to his brains commands to flex. Alex smiled as he felt his pumped biceps easily digging into his opponent’s weakened obliques. He flexed his arms, making the peak of his vein-covered 55 inch biceps sink into the other behemoth’s flanks. “Seems like those 60 pounds of extra muscle of you weren’t enough, boy”, he sneered and hardened his hold some more. Connor’s mouth hung open in a soundless scream as his opponent forced the air out of his lungs. His vision was going black as the impossibly tight bear hug tightened even more. Alex noticed that Connor was on the verge of passing out and changed his hold: he grabbed his armpit with his left hand and his leg with his right hand. “You’re the right weight to train my arms”, he said and began curling him up and down. Connor’s mind couldn’t process what was happening. Before he knew it, he hung horizontally in the behemoth’s hands and was moving up and down. He breathed in sharply as he realized Alex was using him as a barbell and was curling him up and down. He wanted to protest but knew he was no match for the 60 pound lighter monster. He accepted his new place in the hierarchy and marveled at the sight of the beastly 55 inch biceps swelling with blood as he was curled up and down. Alex saw Connor staring at his impossibly thick arms and bellowed in triumph; his deep baritone voice echoing against the walls of the locker room. His dick hardened completely in his pants as he realized his new position. He curled his opponent up a final time, tightly squeezing his pumped biceps and tossed him down. “Yesterday I was intimidated just by looking at you. Now I’ve destroyed you like I’ve destroyed the entire football team”, he said as he looked down on Connor, his fully hard cock clearly outlined against his meaty right quad. Connor stared up at the behemoth towering over him and nodded at his words. He noticed Alex smug grin and his feet left the ground as the other behemoth dragged him over to the shower zone…

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

From: [email protected] This is a story that I wrote years ago. Hope you guys like it! Meeting Rick True story...no lie! My name is John. Temporarily living in Philly. Moving back to L.A. in the fall. Was living in West Hollywood, CA at the time. It was about a year ago. Came back from a bar, hornier than hell. Decided to surf the internet and wound up in that Muscle Room on Gay.com. Me: 6'/190/masc btm/work out/br/br/Italian good lks/hry ch & abs/8.5 thick inches/into worshiping huge muscle freaks! Well this guy named Rick popped onto the screen and asked if I wanted to chat in private. "Sure", I said. He told me he lived up north and was into phone sex. I told him I hadn't tried it before but was curious. "What do you look like?" I asked. "I'm 6 feet...same as you...but a lot bigger...250 and hard as rock! Spanish...could pass for Italian. 54" chest...22 inch arms...34 inch waist...some light chest hair, mostly around my nips and between my pecs...real hairy six-pack and thick powerful hairy legs. Real strong too!" He got me so horny talkin' about himself I decided to give him my phone number. I couldn't believe how hot this guy made me over the phone. We must have chatted for 2 hours, jerkin' off together. He said I made him hornier than anyone he ever chatted with. We hit it off so well we became regular chat buddies. A few months later he said he had business in L.A. and wanted to meet. With a little hesitation, I agreed. I'd heard about so many fakes on the net that I wasn't sure if I could go through with it. He called me when he arrived in town and talked me into letting him drop by my place. We decided on a time. What would he look like? We hadn't even exchanged pics! Would he be as big as he said he was over the phone, or just a fake? His voice made me so hot I just had to meet him! There was a knock on the door. I hesitantly opened it. I couldn't believe my fucking eyes! This huge monster was standing at my doorway. He wasn't gorgeous, but good looking in a real masculine sort of way. Dark brown hair cut real short...military style, and a day's growth of beard. He wore a real tight white short-sleeve button-down shirt and tight-fitting jeans. He smiled, put his arms up over his head so that he was holding onto the top of the door frame and leaned in a little. He teased me by flexing just enough to make his lats spread slightly and to show off the thickness of his arms. He pressed his elbows against the sides of the doorway and began pushing. I swear I could hear the frame craking from the pressure. He walked in and closed the door behind him. "Oh my God!" I said. He touched my lips with his index finger to hush me. Then he raised his right arm up and began to flex it. "Feel it!" he said. I molded my hand around it as he flexed it. "Holy shit, man...it's huge!" I said as I felt the thickness of it through his shirt sleeve. "Feel it!" he kept saying as he flexed it harder and harder. I could see it growing in front of me. "Feel the power of it John!" He kept flexing it as hard as he could. His arm started shaking from the stress. He shouted "I CAN'T STOP FLEXING IT JOHN...GGRRR...GGGRRRR!!" With that the sleeve began to actually split! I couldn't believe it. This guy's shirt was actually ripping from the pressure of his bicep flexing. "OH MY GOD!" I kept saying as his bicep started peaking out of the material. He kept flexing it harder and harder until the seam split completely. "YEAH!!" he yelled. Then he pressed his body into me, pushing me against the living room wall. I could feel his hard cock against mine through our jeans. He raised his other arm up so he was in a double-bi position. He flexed his lats and bi's so hard that the seams on both sides of his shirt ripped and the other shirt sleeve ripped at the same time. "HOLY SHIT!!" I yelled, positioning both my hands on his biceps. He kept grunting louder and louder while he flexed, splitting the seams so that his veiny lats and bi's were completely visible. Then he put his arms down and began flexing his chest. His top button was already open. I could see the deep hairy line between his pecs. His chest started expanding, stretching the material until the three top buttons popped exposing his thick muscle. "Un-fuckin'-believable!" I said with a dropped jaw. I placed my hands on his upper chest, feeling the striated muscle as he flexed for me. "YEAH JOHN...FEEL THIS FUCKIN' MUSCLE!!" Then he picked me up underneath both my armpits...and I wrapped my legs around him. He humped me for a while then carried me into my bedroom. We both stripped out of our clothes, both our cocks pointing straight up at each other. He looked me deep in the eye, then knelt down in front of me. He raised up his right arm again. That one had the most veins! He flexed it slightly, but not completely, and positioned my cock between his bicep and forearm. He started flexing it as hard as he could. I felt his bicep and forearm as he did this. It felt so hard...like rock...veins crawling all over it! "GGGRRRRRR...FEEL MY POWER...FEEL THE POWER OF THIS ARM...FEEL IT!!!" I couldn't believe he was doing this to me. I began to feel faint from the excitement. "Stop...I don't want to cum yet" I yelled. With that he let go. But instead of giving me a break, he placed my cock between his huge pecs. He wrapped his arms around my hips...pulling me into him. At the same time, flexing his pecs so hard they surrounded my cock. I could feel the thickness of them around my cock. I could feel the hair between his pecs on the underside of my cock as I pushed against him. While he flexed, I began grinding my cock against him, literally fucking his pecs. "Yeah man...fuck this muscleman's pecs...yeah...come on...come on!! I CAN"T STOP FLEXING JOHN!!!" I couldn't believe how hot this felt! "GOD!!" I yelled. I guess he could tell that I was about to cum and finally let go of his grip. He got up and looked over at the corner of the bedroom. I wondered what he was looking at. He walked over to my curling bar and took the weights off of it. "What are you going to do with that?" I asked. "This is for later!" he said. He pushed me onto the bed, lying the bar next to me. He propped some pillows under my head and shoulders so that I could see him better. Then he took me by the legs and positioned my calves so that they were lying on his shoulders. I could feel his fingers lubing my hole. He leaned over me...both his huge ham-like arms along each side of me. I could feel the tip of his cock against my hole. He pushed the tip of it in to tease me. "Ready for this muscleman to fuck you John???" I was speechless! With a roar he shoved his cock into me so hard I thought I would go through the fucking headboard! I reached up to grab his huge massive pecs. I cupped my hands around them. I could feel the weight of them bouncing slightly as he pounded his cock into me. He must have fucked me for an hour. I couldn't get enough of him...feeling his pecs...arms...shoulders. He was so massive...his chest was like hair covered rock with thick and thin veins crawling all over it...branching out to his shoulders...leading down to his heavy ham-like arms. I couldn't stop feeling him. He kept flexing over and over again while he fucked me. Groaning...yelling...screaming while he flexed. He was an animal! He raised his arms up in a double-bi. He flexed them so hard they double peaked. I held onto them while he flexed and fucked me. "Yeah you fuckin' animal...fuck me...fuck me you bull!!!" With that he grabbed the curling bar beside me. He placed it behind his neck and started straining. "No...he wasn't going to try and bend this. No way!" I thought. He strained harder and harder. Veins were popping out everywhere, his skin was turning deep red too. I couldn't believe it. He was trying to bend the fucking bar while he fucked me! "GGGRRRRR...GGGGGRRRRR!!" I thought the veins in his head were going to pop. The bar actually began to bend. I couldn't believe it! I could feel his cock getting thicker and harder inside me as he was bending it. "OH MY GOD!" I yelled. I kept feeling his arms as he was bending the bar. Muscles on muscle were popping out everywhere! He kept moaning and yelling...straining every muscle until the bar was almost a U-shape. "FEEL THE POWER!! FEEL MY FUCKIN' POWER" he yelled. With that I could feel him explode inside of me...his warm cum filling me up. I came too...my cum flew everywhere...in the air...back down on me...onto his chest...everywhere. I came harder than I ever did before...I must have shot at least twelve time! He threw the bar down and collapsed on top of me. He kissed me and then whispered in my ear "Nice to finally meet you John!" OK! Well it isn't really true. But hey...it could happen! Any big guys out there want to make my fantasy cum true. Either here in Philly or when I get back to L.A.??? Drop me an e-mail! -JOHN

Hugh the Young Knight written by Ceep for the Seigneur de M. Hugh felt uncomfortable in his own skin, but that was the only pitiful facet of his life. The fact that he acheived knighthood at the legendary round table at such a young age was truly remarkable and enviable, yet all he knew was unease for it. It was not the affections and admirations of the people that left him feeling sheepish and shy, though; no, it was the very reason that he sat among knights who, in his eyes, were twice the man he was, yet the opposite was true. A specimen of masculinity rarely unseen, a contrast to the freshness of his face, his young body rippled with muscle tone and power; even through the stuffy clothing and the chainmail he was obliged to wear as a knight, the lines of his musculature were unmistakable, lending him to be unintentionally intimidating to those around him, yet the gentle, freckled features of his face and his supple, pale flesh lent themselves to a more friendly, youthful appearance which rendered him approachable. Indeed, Hugh had a gentle, if not quiet disposition, yet a fierce loyalty to that which he believed in - and what he put most of his faith into was his coat of arms and the honor of his kingdom. Though the youth had not yet been tempered by the fires of bloody combat, nor had he taken a life, those he stood beside thought of him as an intelligent and capable knight in spite of his age. In celebration of Hugh's knighthood, the captain of the knights saw fit to propose a banquet - and the queen, an intelligent beauty who was thoughtfully involved with the knights of the roundtable, allowed this feast without opposition. Amongst the queen and the entirety of his greatest peers, Hugh felt absolutely tiny, a truly ironic sensation, considering his musculature over even the most fit individual there. There was conversation, a great meal, and drinks to be enjoyed, yet Hugh was ever the wallflower, eating quietly and talking politely, avoiding any and all eye contact with the queen out of a sense of bashfulness - and that was quite difficult, for she frequently looked his way. Hugh was certain he could see ulterior motives in her gaze, and had he been a little bit more mature, he would have easily seen her lust. Yet, all he knew for certain was that the queen was giving him queer looks and flirtatious glances - what could he do but tolerate it? Very soon, a toast was held in Hugh's honor, one he found difficult, to say the least; bearing a contrived, cheeky smile brought on by overwhelming embarassment, he took the praises of his queen and his fellow knights with modesty, yet the lovely royal lady blindsided the youthful knight with a command that shook him and rendered him speechless. "Brave young Hugh," she said with a tone not unlike a sultry purr, silencing the entirety of the dining hall, "rise for your queen. Let me gaze upon your youthful body, a fine model of the male form!" All heads turned from her majesty, Guinivere, to lowly Hugh, so young that he should not have been any more than a lowly squire. "I, ah... I beg your pardon, your majesty?" he said, his voice a tiny squeak. "Hugh," she said slowly, "you heard me well." Then, letting a seductive smile grace her features, the queen relaxed in the comfort of her decorated seat, awaiting young Hugh's show. It was so unlike Hugh to be any kind of an exhibitionist, but there it was - a direct order from his queen. For many long seconds, he simply thought of rejecting the command and forfeiting his knighthood, but that would have cost him everything. Resigning himself to the queen's will, he rose from his chair, standing above the heads of all his fellow knights. All eyes were on him; in deathly silence, they awaited his next move. Please give me the strength, Hugh silently prayed with momentarily closed eyes. He felt no divine will enter him, but he made up for its' absence with willpower of his own. Emitting a long sigh, he began to curl his mighty arms inwards, at the same time subtly hunching himself over. With blushing cheeks and a subtly grimacing expression, he flexed his arms for all they were worth, and Guinivere looked on with obviously hungry eyes - had anyone been watching her and not Hugh, they would've seen the very unladylike way she licked her lips. Hugh felt all their gazes on him, criticizing him, scrutinizing his every move, and it unconsciously spurred him to do the best that he could. Straightening his back, he smoothly lifted his arms above his head, and he exerted every ounce of his strength; his muscles bulked heavily, stretching the tight mall to its limits. It would have been appropriate to see him holding an anvil in his bare hands, or maybe even the entirety of the castle's tower, but all he lifted was the air itself. As he ran every cluster of youthful muscle in his arms through their paces, they trembled, as if such power was too much for them. He balled his supple hands into white-knuckled fists, and he shuddered. He soon reached the height of his spectacular double-bicep pose, and at much the same time, a noise of wheezing, protesting metal came forth, growing more and more intense as the youth worked his muscles. With a grunt of exertion, the chainmail he was dressed in split in a dozen places, ripping like fabric, just as easily as the shirt over said mail. There he stood, still blushing, his unlikely arms and his defined chest clutched loosely by ruined garments, his face still alight with blush, by then more than ever before. "Very good," Guinivere said quietly, belying the true lust she felt for that handsome youth, "you may take your seat again, young Hugh..." Well past the banquet that evening, Hugh found himself amongst his fellow knights, still quite bashful from the outcome of the feast. He had been issued a new set of chainmail and a fresh tunic - bothh with some extra slack in them, to help prevent another such incident from occurring - but the youth chose to remain in the nude following his bath. As he finished up and dried himself off, he heard escalating words from Lancelot, arguably the most respected and beloved of all the knights of the roundtable; ordinarily, a scrap between even such noble knights was not unheard of, but the things passing Lancelot's lips were stunning to all - Hugh included. "I can hardly believe the behavior of our queen! I saw the lust in her eyes as clear as day!" Though Lancelot's plight was, on the surface, one of morality and disgust, the truth was that he felt jealous - Guinivere was a woman of impeccable beauty, not to mention exclusivity for her royal blood. It certainly flustered Lancelot to know that a youth nearly half his own age had her favor and her sexual admiration, yet to admit his own lust for the queen was not at all acceptable; the bitter irony was that speaking derisively of her was accepted more than admitting his own wantings for her body. Whether he picked up on this or not, Hugh correctly assumed that Lancelot's anger was his fault; being a good, noble knight, however, Hugh simply would not stand for such words about his queen. The youth abolished any and all shyness; all that mattered to him was the honor of the queen. He emerged from the baths with his expression set in stone, his inexperienced eyes glowing with intensity. Lancelot turned his gaze on the nude form of Hugh; momentarily, he was staggered by the sight of his body, though it wasn't the first or even second time he'd laid eyes on the young knight. "You shall not speak of the queen in such a way, Lancelot!" he warned, finding himself unafraid as he stood toe-to-toe with Lancelot. For a moment, Lancelot - dressed in merely a loose-fitting undergarment - looked as though he were sizing up the youth as an opponent, but ultimately, he shook his head. "Forgive me, Hugh, I should not have spoken ill of our fine queen," he conceded, his tone one of benevolence, but not submission. More and more, he found himself admiring the pale-skinned youth before him in more intent ways, and in the slack confines of his undergarment, he felt his shaft swelling with blood. It was just obscene that a teenager, nearly a mere child, hat such an enormously powerful body. Hugh, pacified but still not accepting of Lancelot's behavior, stood proud and tall, his muscles flexing and twitching even at an idle, his heavy, uncut shaft hanging freely between the carved flesh of his thighs. "Your body," Lancelot said absently, having stepped back to better view Hugh's form, "such a form, it's like your mother and father carved you out of marble, Hugh." The comment brought Hugh pause, and it interrupted his unconscious intimidation, replacing his stern expression with a blushing, somewhat dull look. "Ah, thank you, Lancelot," he bleated, suddenly well aware of his handsome fellow knight's roaming eyes - in some way, he felt comfortable with Lancelot ogling him. "Please, Hugh, satisfy my curiosities," Lancelot said with a hint of arousal in his voice, taking a few steps away from the youth. There, in the training hall - just off of the knights' quarters, where they slept and bathed - was a rack with hundreds of pounds of armor and weaponry upon it. It would've taken a horse and a carriage to move it with so much gear upon it - but, almost instinctively, Lancelot knew Hugh could move it with ease. "You want me to lift that?" Hugh asked, tightening his jaw in unease and disbelief. Wearing a small, coy smile, Lancelot nodded and chuckled. "Try it. You might be surprised." Feeling just as shy and uncertain as his forced show in the banquet hall, Hugh momentarily sized up the rack; at least ten feet tall, it was covered in mail, plate armor, swords, axes, and shields - easily several tons worth of steel, not to mention the fact that the rack itself was built out of sturdy, ancient wood. "Lancelot," he said uneasily, looking back at the handsome knight - Lancelot nodded reassuringly, folding his arms across the toned form of his chest. "Try, Hugh, please. Satisfy my curiosities." Hugh sighed, and though the noise reeked of impatience and disgust, it was actually a sound of exasperation - why did everybody wish to ogle his body like so? To somebody so sexually inexperienced, it was very unusual to Hugh, but he would oblige Lancelot. Squatting down, clutching the cumbersome rack by its' base from the side, Hugh grunted, the sound not youthful, but rather one of a grown man pushing his body to the limit. Before Lancelot's eyes, the pale, freckled example of pristine, male beauty before him began to rise that loaded rack - clutching with his arms, lifting with his legs, Hugh rose inch by inch. His carved biceps balooned, the mighty pecs flexed tight and in deep striations, every single muscle strained and bulged, stretching the velvet boyskin. Hugh’s body became carved and edgy, a superior, unreal musclebeast as he showed off his true power. His breathing, once steady and calm, had since degraded into animalistic and unintentionally lewd huffing. Lancelot was staggered, and had his jaw not been clenched, his lip not bit in a display of admiration and arousal, his mouth would have hung open. To see a form so youthful and perfect as Hugh's lifting that rack so high that it crested over his head, revealing his animal-like, bushy armpits, his body glistening with sweat, his herculean chest heaving with the labored breathing of a wild animal, Lancelot was shocked, amazed, and incredibly aroused - in the snug-fitting undergarment around his hips, he sported a mighty erection, and all he knew for certain was that he had to feel that youth's body. Hugh set the rack down a mighty thud!, followed shortly by the rattling of mail and armor. A few armaments fell to the floor in noisy, harmless clanks and clatters, but Lancelot could hear none of this - all he wanted to hear was the gruff panting, the near snarling of Hugh's breathing. He smelled the youth's undeveloped scent, that which would one day be a potent musk of unspeakable attraction and heartbreaking sexuality, and he availed himself for the youth. As he approached, Hugh turned, his freckled face alight with blush, his skin damp with sweat; before he could speak a word, Lancelot kissed him, slipping his tongue into the warmth of young Hugh's maw, teasing over the youth's palate and teeth in an enormously sexual gesture. Before Hugh could even register the kiss, Lancelot ended it, and he pressed his cheek to Hugh's own, savoring the feel of soft, pubescent flesh on the shaven stubble of his own - which, inversely, was a sensation Hugh enjoyed. "L-Lancelot," the youngest knight stammered, finding himself silenced with another kiss, this one shallow and brief. Lancelot had no words, and he drove on with instinct alone. He nibbled and kissed down the impossibly mighty youth's jawline and neck with brisk speed, but he dabbled on Hugh's chest. There, he licked, he kissed, he gnawed; no crease of muscle, no swatch of smooth, freckled flesh was safe; Hugh shuddered and moaned, and involuntarily, he flexed hard for Lancelot, pouting out his chest, presenting like a peacock to the handsome knight. Hugh unknowingly fed off of Lancelot's worship, and his shaft, once casually flaccid, had already begun to swell with arousal, engorging its' length with blood. As it reached its' peak and it came around to a respectable length but an unbelievable girth Hugh shuddered, and Lancelot was further stricken by the youth's form. Even as compelling as the ambivalently tender and hard flesh of the youngest knight's chest and arms was to his kissing lips and licking tongue, Lancelot could not resist that which dwelt between Hugh's chiseled thighs. Dropping to his knees, unabashed in his homoeroticism, the handsome Lancelot clutched Hugh's meat in a strong, tough hand, a contrast to the virgin flesh of that penis. Squeezing it firm in his grip, he pulled down upon the uncut foreskin of the youth's length, exposing the tip, its' shade a muted pink, one unaccustomed to light or the chilly air of the outside world; indeed, to have the tender glans of his shaft so ruthlessly exposed sent a shiver up Hugh's spine and made him moan, yet the moisture and warmth it naturally knew was replaced with another - Lancelot's mouth. The handsome knight struggled to engulf Hugh's colossal manhood, and as he descended, he removed his groping, tugging hand, placing it, along with the other, on one of the youth's thighs. Hugh's cheeks lit with a vibrant and youthful blush, making his cute freckles all the more apparent, and though he quaked and moaned with pleasures yet unheard of to his sexually inexperienced body, he found himself embracing an almost feral dominance; setting one of his smooth hands on the back of Lancelot's head, he encouraged the handsome knight to work his swollen shaft harder, doing so with wary pushes and squeezes on the back of his skull - Hugh was not entirely sure what he was doing, but whatever it was, he somehow knew it was right. Distantly, Hugh wondered if this was a common occurance for Lancelot, or if it was similarly his first time with another man - but at the forefront of his thoughts, all he really acknowledged was how wonderful that mouth felt around his length. Huffing with nearly the same intensity and urgency as when he'd so effortlessly hefted the armor rack, Hugh held firmly onto Lancelot's head with both of his supple hands. Everything about the moment was unspeakably fine; Lancelot, whether by practice or dumb luck, sucked and bobbed upon the youth's turgid member with incredible ferocity and skill, and his manly, rough hands alternately fondled the hairless, wrinkled, tender hide of Hugh's scrotum, or the carved-in-stone curve of his rear-end. Hugh soon felt himself nearing the bliss of a climax; he had masturbated, but it was a rare occasion, for he found his time spent better practicing with the sword or maintaining his fitness, and so Lancelot's ministrations were helped along by a pent-up, pubescent libido that rarely knew the casual release of a loving hand. "Oh, ah, nngh!" Hugh grunted, screwing the charming, youthful features of his face into a toothy grimace, clenching his naive eyes shut. Sweat dripped from his body; once but a sheen not unlike a morning's dew, it freely poured from his form, and his member, nestled safely in the hot and humid confines of Lancelot's gulping, sucking maw, oozed incessantly with bitter-salty pre, stinging the knight's tongue, but not in a manner unpleasant. With his huffing and near-snarling reaching a crescendo, Hugh pulled Lancelot's head flush to his pelvis, and he stood up on his tip-toes in the sweet, sudden agony of his climax. Every cluster of muscle and iron-hard sinew tensed to a density not unlike chainmail, and he blew a colossal, pent-up load down Lancelot's hungry throat. The older knight wasted not a drop of the young, yet virile and thick seed that Hugh saw fit to feed him, and the youth's orgasm and dominance brought him such scintillating pleasure that, without the use of his hands, he sullied the insides of his undergarment with a sloppy, manly mess of his own. When Hugh at last returned to his normal posture, and he appeared to be his timid, usual self, he awkwardly unhanded Lancelot's skull and apologized down to the handsome knight - Lancelot stood, and without a word, he silenced the young knight mid-sentence with another kiss. The feel of such supple, pink lips on his own was blissful, accessable pleasure - but they were finished for the night. "You, young Hugh, need not apologize for anything," Lancelot said enigmatically, walking off to the baths. Hugh watched him go, and then he made his way to bed for that night, where he slept very soundly. The next day, Hugh's attempts to reconcile all that had happened the night before were cut short; a mysterious command from the queen herself, delivered by her handmaiden - he was to come directly to the queen's bedchambers and speak to no one along the way. Hugh felt an odd chill down his spine, a tingling of worry, even though he assured himself he had done nothing wrong - it was simply an immature reaction to being summoned by the highest of authority like so. Stepping through the threshold of her bedroom door, dressed in his new chainmail and more slack, forgiving tunic, Hugh looked adorably uncomfortable, and more out-of-place than ever before. "You summoned me, your majesty?" said the handsome young man, moving before the bed, for upon its' edge sat queen Guinivere, as lovely as ever, if not in the regal setting of her throne room. Hugh made to kneel, but the queen stopped him with a hand upon his chest. "There is no need for formalities or anxiety, young Hugh," she cooed with gentle reassurance, her tone not unlike that of a caring mother, but her eyes exhibited anything but such innocence. "Regarding your display at last night's banquet," she began, at once summoning a mighty blush to Hugh's smooth, freckled cheeks, "I wish to see more of the same, without the prying eyes of your peers - only mine." Sitting back, she looked unusually casual for a queen, but her eyes were ever lewd, burning with sexual intensity and desire. Despite his endearing shyness, Hugh obliged - but this time, he disrobed, shedding the tunic, the mail beneath, and his undergarments, exposing the naked, supple flesh of his chiseled body to the chilled air of the castle and the hungry eyes of the queen. His manhood, though flaccid and unaroused, hung heavily between his thighs, promising to be the most handsome penis the queen had ever laid eyes upon - and indeed, she couldn't help but glance at it, even as it was. Her eyes studied not just the youth's genitalia, however, for she examined every crease of muscle and every bulging strand of sinew, taking in his appearance with a subtle, nearly animalistic lick of her lips. It slowly dawned on Hugh that the way his fellow knights treated him was not derision, but jealousy - he was so reluctant and bashful to acknowledge it, but he was built like no other man he'd ever seen, his body chiseled out of what seemed like stone. With this realization, he began to flex almost involuntarily, well before the queen's mark, but she didn't seem to mind it at all; biting his lip in concentration, he pouted out the mountainous bulk of his chest, presenting that smooth flesh, and at the same time, he raised his swelling arms high above his head, his supple hands clenched into white-knuckle fists. Lifting his arms like so exposed the wiry, fluffy bushes of his armpits - the pits themselves exuded an acquired taste of a scent; though Hugh did not yet possess a true musk of his own, having not matured enough, the smell of his body and his sweat was unmistakable, and it aroused Guinivere in incredible ways. With her behavior growing increasingly unladylike, Guinivere stood from the bed, looming before the bulging, yet charmingly youthful form of Hugh. With another subtle lick of her lips, she leaned in close, and she partook of a sniff of an armpit, a tentative one; the smell of his sweaty masculinity made her shudder, and beneath the regal dress she wore, she was growing quite wet. With lust unchained, she pushed her delicate nose into the bush of his armpit hair, and she sniffed deep, taking the youth's undeveloped musk deep into her lungs. Just as bold as her nose was her hands; delicate and soft, covered in pale flesh nearly as supple as Hugh's own, she clutched the youth's half-erect penis and plump, dangling scrotum in one, and with a distinct, royal thoughtfulness, she gently bounced and groped the tender flesh, coaxing a deeply aroused, wavering groan from the handsome young knight. Such a careful, yet intent touch saw his penis swell with arousal, its' shaft engorging with blood, reaching its' full length in record time. With a smile most coy, Guinivere wrapped her slender digits around that penis, and she gave it a few long, soothing pumps, coaxing mighty wads of pre from the tip in heavy spurts, each one accompanied by a full-body shudder and a deep moan from the youth. It was not Guinivere's intention to get Hugh to a climax yet; his pleasure would come, but only as a consequence of her own. "Hugh, sweet, handsome, valiant Hugh," cooed the queen, shedding her dress and the stifling undergarments beneath, exposing the striking female beauty of her form to the chilly air and to Hugh's hungry eyes. Her hips - delicately curved, so very womanly, but not overtly pronounced. Her breasts - swollen and full, pale and supple, the nipples stiffened and hard with arousal and the cool temperature. Behind her, a fine ass, but Hugh's was arguably finer. With the queen so close to his colossal form, Hugh was unable to partake of the view of her long legs, but what he saw was enough to leave him nearly drooling. "Your majesty," he whispered, his tone laced with lust and reverence, both vying for control of his quaking voice, "your body, it's so beautiful, I would give anything to have you." She pressed her lips to his in a brief kiss, and then she trailed a delicate digit down the range of his hairless chest, savoring the contrast of his body; though supremely muscular, he was so pale, so soft, his flesh sprinkled with charming, youthful freckles - this would be a night to remember for both the queen and her loyal knight. "Come, Hugh," she said tenderly, backpedaling, moving to kneel upon her bed. Hugh did just the same; beneath his bulk, the bed creaked in protest and unease, though it held up. With the youthful, hulking knight so close, Guinivere let her fingers run wild over the creases and crevasses of his chest, though they came to dwell upon the pink, tender nubs of his nipples. Once soft and inoffensive, they had since stiffened with arousal, not unlike his member. Though nowhere near as tender as that particular flesh, Guinivere's touch brought him tingles and shivers of pleasure, impulses that shook noises not unlike whimpers from him. "Oh, your majesty, Lancelot's touch was not half as pleasing as yours," he cooed, blushing only after the fact; in consideration, Guinivere paused, then twisted her beautiful lips into a coy smile. "So Lancelot couldn't resist you? I see... It seems I am not the only one so afflicted with your form," she chuckled, punctuating her words with a soft kiss upon his cheek. Hugh could only shake his head slowly; the poor youth was so embarassed by what he had blurted out that he couldn't even answer with words. Guinivere acknowledged his bashful nature; indeed, it was one of the things that made him so adorable, and it was a fine contrast to the masculinity of his male form. Furthermore, she had precisely the cure for such a lack of confidence; lying back, shying away from the youth's bulk, the queen slowly spread her legs, exposing the slender lips of her cunt. Hugh had never seen such a thing before, but instinctively, he wanted it. As she spread those folds with her digits and he was allowed to gaze upon the moist, inviting pink of his queen, he bit his lip, erasing the pale, pink color from it for a moment. "Have at your queen, young Hugh," she said, her voice a sultry purr, her eyes exuding raw sexual desire. "As hard as you wish it - my body is yours this night!" Hugh needed to hear no more words; he pounced with animalistic lust. Just on instinct, he knew what to do; he prodded the swollen, blunt tip of his penis to the inviting, deep pink of her cunt, and he sank it in to the hilt. Precum and vaginal juices were his lubricants, and they were beyond sufficient; he entered her without pain, only pleasure. The handsome youth quaked and shuddered with overwhelming pleasure, finding his first time with a lady to be an erotic dream; Guinivere was not so noisy, but still, she moaned and stroked fondly over the ripped arms of the youth, which were planted on either side of her. "Mmm, yes, Hugh, have me!" she shuddered, rolling her eyes before closing them; with all the ferocity of a beast, Hugh started to pound his shapely hips, bobbing his deliciously taut behind up and down in an endless, mindless groove that matched no music, and served only to please himself and his queen. Hugh panted and grunted in gruff, overwhelming desire; not unlike the way he had snarled and rumbled like a bull when he performed his feats of strength for Lancelot, he became similarly noisy for the queen. Consciously, he told himself it was all for the queen, but deep in his subconscious, he knew it was all about him; there was his ego that she was nurturing, whether he realized it or not. He knew that his own pleasure was what mattered most, and that Guinivere's beautiful body was a means to an end. It was a thought no self-respecting knight would ever admit - but Hugh hadn't even realized it himself. Indeed, he was straying off into more animalistic territory; he heard her moans and smelled her scent, but those impulses came to him like visions. He watched her plump, pleasing bosom bounce and jiggle enticingly, doing all it could to lure him in for a lick or a suck, but he was set in his ways; he would fuck his queen for all she was worth. "Oh, Hugh, H-Hugh!" she cried out to him, losing any and all composure as the handsome youth went on, his rhythm degrading into chaotic bucks and grinds - soon, he would climax, and that was apparent in his grunting and snarling as much as it was in his actions. Hugh knew nothing in the way of prolonging sex; so inexperienced and full of the hormones of puberty, all he knew was how to get off, and that was precisely what he did. Pounding his mighty cock in to the hilt, smacking his balls into the queen's thighs, Hugh erupted with an outspoken noise of pleasure, and he shot an incredibly virile load deep into the queen's womb. Her cry suggested a climax of her own - whether or not she had actually gotten off, Hugh didn't know, and in an uncommon moment of callous thought brought on by self-serving fucking, he didn't care. But, in his afterglow, he cuddled close to his queen, and he partook of her compliments and her kisses - and in time, he drifted off to sleep in her arms, so used to the exhaustion of sex.

Tales of a Lust Mage #6 'Gingerbread Muscle Men' SUBTAGS: Unaware Growth, Muscle Worship, Alchemy, Holiday (Christmas), Characters (Liam, Andres, N. Claus) Author note: Hey everyone, went on hiatus with my writing. Back to give you guys a little holiday cheer! I want to dedicate this story to farresh, a real good friend who appreciates my stories. Happy Holidays to all of you!!! ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ It was Christmas Eve. Nothing was making noise in the house, yes, not even mice that was almost true, except the kitchen, which was actually very loud. “What are you doing?!” Yelled Andres, rolling around on the plush carpeting next to the fire place and the Christmas tree. He had taken a nap and had just woken up. Liam had been sleeping. “You can’t come into the kitchen!” responded Liam, whom had been in the kitchens for a few hours. Throughout the day he’d been closing the kitchen off to bake pastries and foods for the Christmas parties both young men had to go to. Now that they’d come home and it was beyond late and no more parties to go to, Andres still wondered why Liam was making snacks. Then it hit him. “Hey, you doing some wizard magic stuff in there? Like, with a cauldron and stuff? Don’t you take a break on Christmas?” Andres asked. He needed a protein shake, and he wanted to sneak into the room. “I told you, I’m not a wizard. I’m an alchemist.” Liam responded, poking his head out of the kitchen. “And yes, I’m working on your Christmas gift.” “What, I thought you got me one? Rule is we can open a gift at midnight, and the rest in the morning.” Andres said, standing up and stretching his back. He’d just had shoulder day and his whole upper body was sore. Sitting there, waiting for Liam to finish whatever strange concoction he was making to sell in the shadow-market. Liam tended to be vague about his work, and mostly everything, but Andres picked up on a few key points about the magic-world. “Trust me, THIS gift is the one you’ll want tonight. Besides, it’s only appropriate to bake fresh cookies for Santa.” Liam said, smiling wide. Liam’s thick brown hair had been tied back and he wore a red holiday hat, to keep it from contaminating whatever it was he was making in the kitchen. Andres looked into his phone and smiled, somewhat bored. He flipped through photographs online of the two, grinning at the funniest and best memories. Andres flipped and saw the first picture of them at the gym, back in sophomore year. It was two years of half-done working out and running around the gym awkwardly. Even so, Liam and Andres went into college slowly progressing, and the difference was noticeable. Andres had started out a chubby short dude, and Liam had always been a tall lanky kid. Now Liam was a dense, well-formed tall man. Andres himself was thicker, wider man. He looked over to the Christmas tree and looked at the small present he had for Liam. “Wait, what? Santa? You mean he’s real? Like unicorns and Big Foot?” Andres asked. Before making a snarky remark, he received a text message from his mother. “Si, Mama, estoy bien.” He texted her back. She’d just moved back to Mexico, so he didn’t see her this year. Liam was Andres’ only family since she moved back, and that was only because they’d grown up together. “Next year we should go to Morelia, and see your mum. And Big Foot is actually a creature by a different name, country bumpkins simply gave it that terrible moniker. I read an article on it written by a mage who mentioned it might be the same effect of black-marketed exotic animals that are released into the wild.” Liam said, coming into the room with a box of unguents and other alchemical items. Andres had kept the secret that Liam was an ‘alchemist’ since high school, when Liam accidentally had turned his hands scaly (it was a strange experience). Of course, that was only one of the experiences the two shared. Andres shuddered a little, knowing how creepy Liam’s magic could be. “Oh god, remember when you first tried out for the football team?! How your mum made enchiladas when you got home to forget how sad you were to not be put on the team?!” Liam laughed, placing things by the fireplace. “Yes, Liam. I was small before I hit puberty senior year, and I’m Mexican-American. Thanks for sending that point home. Now what the hell are you doing, and should I be afraid and/or contact your magical friends?” Andres grumbled. He looked over at the red and green mirror decoration Liam brought with him to the cabin. He looked at himself for a bit, instinctively fixing his hair before moving onto his original goal. Needed to really work those shoulders next workout. Andres then returned to creeping behind Liam to see all the commotion. “I’m making an offering.” Liam said. Andres observed the chalice, silver probably, full of milk. A gold-leaf dish displayed many perfectly made cookies, gingerbread. They had been baked at the right time Liam chose for this special ritual. They smelled wonderful, spiced with lots of cinnamon. Candles of pine were lit and a stick of frankincense flickered with its pungent odor. “Wait, to Santa?” Andres asked, his mouth pursing long in suspicion. “Yes, to Santa. It’s almost midnight, so I best hurry.” Liam said, grabbing water and splashing it over the fire. Steam overflowed, outward as Andres jumped back, in a start. The clock reached the witching hour, and Liam smiled. “THE HELL, LIAM!?” Andres yelped, trying to see through the thick steam. The pine candles didn’t go out, and the incense didn’t dampen. The room became dark without artificial light and the fireplace dead. Liam’s chalk slid slowly on the wood flooring, drawing a snowflake-like sigil. “THIS IS NOT A CHRISTMAS I LIKE, LIAM!!! THIS IS A SCARY CHRISTMAS, LIAM!” Andres yelped. He weighed a good 175 lbs. of muscle and bone, but he still felt more uncomfortable about things than his lighter friend. Liam only whispered things in an ancient wording, before moving onto English. His English accent made the poetry of the ritual even more mystic. “Oh, Paladin of Hope and Retribution, Rider on the winds of the dead winter, Elder father still stronger than the young, Hunter of Strength even in the cold, I give you offering, of all the four elements, So you may feel comfortable whilst you stay in our abode.” An icy wind blasted through the fireplace, covering the entire hearth in glassy frost. Andres instinctively lifted up his hand, the terrible cold threatening to knock him down from where he was standing. He coughed, looking around as the scent of mint and cinnamon permeated the room heavily. “Liam?” Andres asked, wafting the fog with his hand. “Andres, meet a good friend of mine,” Liam said, the silhouette of a massive man standing in front of both of them. “Nicolas, this is Andres. Andres, let me introduce Nicolas Claus.” Andres stared at the giant man, standing nine feet tall over the two. The man was wider than the sleigh one would assume he rode. His shoulders hunched over, a massively flared back creeping up in the muscular meat of his trapezoids, wanting to swallow his head. His body was decorated with a sprinkling of white body hair. He wore a large red coat, so long it seemed to be like a duster that dragged as the massive man walked around. Andres was already impressed (and sexually attracted…) with the massive mythical man, but his monstrous arms topped of the masterpiece of a man as they poked out of coat’s sleeveless form. “Pleasure to meet you, boy.” Claus’s mouth said behind his thick beard, his obelisk legs waddling as he walked over to Andres. Andres stared. Santa’s arms looked like they couldn’t even match a normal man’s anatomy. Andres’s mouth held open, simply astounded by what was going on in the room. “I-I-I’m Andres,” Andres stuttered. “I know that.” Claus responded, shaking Andres’s limp hand. “H-How even?! You’re! And you’re here! Liam?!” Andres stuttered, in a panic. Liam and Santa laughed, the young man still thoroughly confused. He was surprised to see that Santa wore an eye-patch. Obviously that wasn’t the ONLY thing that had Andres confounded. “I actually was not very good at summoning back while I learned what I do nowadays. But there was ONE gentleman I could summon. Sadly it was a fluke because I’d been lucky enough to catch him when I was a child.” Liam said. “Liam was a very nice young man but I assumed he was non-magical in nature, so I did not whisk myself away through the house. He caught me in the middle of putting his presents down one year.” Claus said. Andres noticed he had a very subtle accent. Russian, maybe? “S-so what are you here for?” Andres asked, as if he had never heard a Christmas carol. The massive man loomed over him. His eyebrows were so thick they seemed to cover his face in the dimness of the room. He patted Andres’s head and laughed- the big hardy laugh mentioned in all the stories. “I am here for the cookies of Liam’s making. They are one of my favorite. We always celebrate and exchange gifts this way!” laughed Claus. “SO WHY THE CREEPY MAGIC STUFF, LIAM!?” Andres yelled, still very confused. He held his head as the fire went alit in blue flame. It flickered, not melting the ice in the tiny cabin the two young men had rented out. “Well, because we’re making a trade. I give Santa the best cookies most alchemists can make, and he gives me more than the usual goodies he brings good boys and girls.” Liam said, sitting down on the couch. Claus simply folded his legs, actually about as tall as Andres sitting on the couch. “What do you want it be this year, Liam?” Claus asked, sifting through a small red sack. This must have been the one with all the toys, right? “I wrote you the letter, as usual.” Liam said, showing him the cookies. “These aren’t decorated.” Claus said, squinting. You couldn’t tell, he was so furry-faced, but his strong brow furled a bit. “Oh, that’s because you’re supposed to gimme what I wanted!” Liam joked. Andres sat there, still trying to process everything. Santa was in the living room with them. And Liam was making some weird trade with him. Santa chortled again, finally pulling out a large vial of frosting. Liam’s face became bright as he looked at it, tied in a big red ribbon. “Yes! THAT!” Liam said, giddy. The happy giant handed him the vial and looked at the cookies, excited. Liam quickly took off the bow and decorated the cookies with the frosting. He then ran to the kitchen to grab more cookies. He brought out the plate chock-full of other cookies and placed them in front of Andres. “You really like gingerbread, Mr. Santa?” Andres asked. “Please, call me Claus. CLAH-OS.” Santa said, chuckling as he reached out for the tiny glass of milk and a small gingerbread man. “Damn, all these are for you?” Andres asked. “I suppose it makes sense, you’re pretty big for a guy who only plans to eat a few cookies.” “No, no, these are for us two, Santa only eats seven cookies at each stop, if that much. There’s more than enough going around.” Liam said. “For us?” Andres asked. Claus munched and savored the perfect cookies. “Yeah, you’re going to love them, trust me. Just need to make sure to let them cool.” Liam responded, decorating all the trees and gingerbread men. “Do you plan on leaving, then, Santa?” “Yes, my reindeer are… Restless… I’m sure you’ll hear about it if I don’t get them moving again in a bit. Too bad these cookies don’t do what could before to me. But you two enjoy… And don’t eat too many…” Santa said, getting up in a slow, rumbling lift. He grabbed a few more cookies and placed them into a small box, labeled to someone else. He shook Liam’s hand and turned into a frost that went back through the chimney. As quickly as he’d appeared, he disappeared. The room went back to normal, no longer frosted by magic. “For all the weird shit you’ve had happen, this really,” “Puts the frosting on the cake?” Liam interrupted Andres, the cookies’ frosting becoming stiff, ready to eat. He laughed a little, picking one up and handing it to his friend. “So you just want me to eat a cookie?” “No, I want you to do more, but we’ll see how much more.” Liam responded. Andres stared at him, the corners of his mouth pursed back, suspicious. Liam nodded, prompting his friend to take a bite. Andres closed his eyes, nervously putting the cookie in his mouth. He breathed in before quickly biting down. The cookie tasted amazing. It wasn’t very sweet itself, more mild and a bass for the sweetness that was in the frosting. He chewed, almost moaning from how good the cookies were. Liam was a pretty good cook and baker, but this tasted amazing. He found himself without the cookie, having finished it before thoroughly examining its flavor. “Holy shit. The hell is in these?” Andres asked, reaching for another. He hesitated after picking a glossy white snowflake cookie, still a bit cautious. “Just eat, man. They’re good for you, I made them with a ‘protein-gingerbread’ recipe. Santa worries about his protein intake as much as you do.” Liam responded. He too grabbed a cookie and munched. He savored the flavor too, proud of his alchemical handiwork. “Fine, okay.” Andres said, before stuffing his face with the cookie. He was almost embarrassed, but they were so god-damn good. Andres hadn’t even noticed his hand reaching for another as he asked, “Extra protein? Really?” “Yeah, extra protein and the frosting is Santa’s recipe, made from only the finest ingredients, not a lot of fat. So don’t worry about breaking diet. Eat as many as you like.” Liam said, eating his second. He stared at Andres’s chest, excited to see the results of his work. Andres meanwhile ate the cookie and munched, thoroughly enamored with the snack. He didn’t even notice how tight his pants felt as he chewed his fifth cookie. “So, you used all your ‘Christmas goodness’ on frosting? I mean, these cookies are fucking amazing, but couldn’t you ask for dragon scales or something you usually want to put in potions and stuff?” Andres asked. Man, the fireplace was getting really hot, Andres felt a sweat coming on. “You underestimate the power of a good cookie. Santa agreed to fulfill both our Christmas wishes. In fact, all of them.” Liam said, trying not to groan as his own shirt tightened at the hems and collar. His biceps already felt like they were filling out. He tried not to smile too hard, but he was so excited to see Andres swell. “Man… These are…” Andres said, feeling a bit hazy as he picked up his seventh cookie. “These are really fucking delicious, Liam. I can’t even stop eating them!” He joked, not aware of how true the words were. He felt something different in his back. He almost stopped eating, staring at the fire to try and sense what was wrong. Andres brushed off the feeling, Liam knowing well that his back was thickening, pushing outward. “All our Christmas wishes?” Andres asked, finishing the seventh cookie. He winced a bit, noticing the pain in his groin. Fuck, he had just jacked off a few hours ago. He bit his tongue as he looked over at Liam, his balls denser than the time he hadn’t jacked off for two weeks on a dare (he kept his word, and wished he hadn’t that time…). Andres’s eyes went wide, however, looking upon his alchemist friend. Liam smiled, his mouth nibbling on a tree-shaped cookie. Liam looked like he had grown! But that wasn’t possible right? Andres’s brow furled up a bit the moment he looked down at Liam’s thick, rock-hard chest. It peeked out of the sweater, tempting Andres as it always did. Liam looked thicker tonight, too. Liam was a fairly long guy, even with working out as hard as he did. Maybe he was really starting to pack on mass now… “Oh yeah, crud, this feels good. Oh, sorry, what’d you ask, Andy? Yeah, you’ve been a real nice guy this year, so you get all your gifts. Santa knows when you’ve been good.” Liam responded, before flexing his arm behind his head. Andres gasped through his nose as he heard the sweater strain its thick weaving on Liam’s spreading lats. “What the hell?!” Andres said, dropping the cookie he was working on. Eighth or ninth- Andres was losing count. He spoke in an amazed voice, “You’re- you’re growing, Liam! You already look huge now!” “Speak for yourself, Andy. I only ate about three cookies. How many have you eaten now?” Andres stared, still confused. Then he processed what Andy was insinuating. He looked over to the mirror- his eyes shooting wide. Andres was a fairly muscular man already, but now… He had grown to become even more. He stared at the thick neck that held his head, like a pedestal. His traps pushed around his waffle-knit shirt. He could see the texture, once perfect, now stretched in all manner of places as it strained to contain its owner. Andres gulped as he looked at the wide frame he’d swollen; his shoulders were pushing away from him. “F-fucking- what happened!?” Andres asked, his chest beginning to heave. Holy shit, it was big too. Andres’s lips pursed again as he felt his cock twitch; he was becoming aroused. How could he not have noticed this happening?! “What, don’t like it?” Liam asked, grabbing another cookie. He could have used some tea, maybe with milk. “N-no, I do, I just, what is this?” Andres asked, standing up and almost falling as his thick, striated left thigh shoved over his right. He looked at his legs in the small reflection and stared, his heart beating fast and hot. His warm leisure pants stretched over his huge hamstrings, poking the fabric like frames behind the cloth. Andres finally groaned as his cock roared awake, pushing the soft fabric perfectly to its swollen contour. Embarrassed, he tried to place his hands over swelling erection. He felt his face become even reader when the threads of his sleeves popped. They’d give way soon if he didn’t stop growing. Even so, his mind quickly pondered the idea of seeing his clothes tear. His eyes glanced over to the cookie that lay on the couch, still half-eaten. “Go ahead, man. Let’s just eat as many as you want.” Liam said, biting into another cookie. Andres followed the advice and walked over, sitting much closer to Liam this time. Liam had never been this flirtatious, if he’d ever been flirtatious to begin with… But he didn’t seem bothered to sit so close to him, so Andres only smiled and bit into the cookie, nervously. “Ah, I think... I can feel it…” Andres said, swallowing the cookie and moving onto another. “That’s because you’ll feel it the more you grow.” Liam said, huffing as he felt his own erection swelling in his jeans. These pants were far more constricting than Andres’s, so Liam decided to fix the situation. “Hey, I bet I can eat more than you.” Liam said, poking Andres. Andres groaned, feeling the pump of his heart sending growth through him, each beat. Each pump of blood, thumping as it swelled him up like a balloon. “What, no, I’ve always been bigger. You got magic and now want to beat me?” Andres groaned, seeing his stomach stick out a bit under his tightening shirt. He could see the perfect abdomen of muscle begin to crunch under his skin, growing as he bit into the eleventh cookie. “Fine, but you better start eating faster,” Liam said, grabbing two cookies and biting into both of them. Andres chewed and tried swallowing without thinking about enjoying the flavor; Liam chuckled as his sweater began to tear. Andres angrily grabbed two cookies. He felt a little embarrassed as he breathed in and stuffed one in his mouth, but the flavor was so sweet and good he found himself chewing faster just to stuff the next one inside. “Yeah, eat up, Andy, I want to see you blow up.” Liam said, chewing. Andres felt his glutes push him upward, the couch creaking as he thickened even more. He felt the pants constricting his blood, fighting to stay intact. He growled, stuffing his mouth with another baked gingerbread man. Muffled with sweets, he tried to say something. “Fuck, it feels good, man. I’m growing so big!” He growled, fumbling through words as the sweet frosting stuck to the roof of his mouth. He grabbed a handful of cookies and finally gave up on eating with composure, stuffing his mouth chockfull of sweet gingerbread. He groaned, holding onto his stomach as his arms croaked with mass. The sound of cloth tearing aroused him as well, even if the growth felt a little uncomfortable. Liam breathed heavily, trying not to moan as his jeans tore with newly growing muscle. He looked over at the erection that finally popped out of Andres’s pants and smiled, straddling the cock in his right hand as he grabbed another frosted cookie. “Fuck, man, I’m still not as big as you, but…” Liam managed to compliment, before moaning as Andres reached over and gagged him with a gingerbread man. Andres was horny as hell and wanted to see Liam massive to, so he began feeding the both of them. Liam couldn’t keep up with the feeding, but held his mouth at the ready. Andres roared, his shirt finally tearing open as his pectorals swelled outward. His lats spread like wings as he flexed in a perfect double bicep pose- he was sweating in ecstasy. “Mmfuck yeah, man…” Liam muffled, following suit and flexing his own giant biceps in the same pose. Andres heaved, finally finishing the last cookies as the shreds of cloth wrapped around his swollen, rock-hard contour. He looked over at Liam and smiled, still trying to catch his breath. Liam’s smile still looked soft even though he could very well weigh 300 lbs. in muscle alone. “Fuck, Liam. This is- it’s amazing!” “I know. I think you deserve it. And your other Christmas wish, too.” Liam said, hulking his upper body to touch Andres. “What do you mean?” Andres asked. Liam laughed and finally pressed his body against Andres. He opened the small box meant for Christmas morning, revealing a chain Andres had bought him. “You wanted to ask me out, and I think it’s exactly what you’re going to get.” Liam said, slowly reaching with his massive arm around the larger Andres. Andres simply stood there, huge and hot. They kissed. Liam reached and squeezed Andres’s thick arms, pressing as hard as he could (which was a lot, considering the swollen bowling-ball arms he had). As they tore off the last shreds of clothes, Liam knelt down and lifted his arms, squeezing Andres’s throbbing erection in the crevice of his bicep and forearm. “Fuck yeah, Liam, you’re fucking huge!” In a single breath, Liam squeezed as hard as possible, spreading the thick pre that dribbled out of Andres around into the perfect lube. Liam let his tongue slide around Andres’s stomach as he jutted back-and-forth through the muscular crease. Andres couldn’t hold it any longer and grabbed Liam’s head, forcing his cock into his mouth. They moaned in unison, their hands rubbing each other’s swollen, solid bodies. “Liam, oh man, it feels so good! It feels so good to be this strong! I love feeling you even more than I ever thought it would!” Andres moaned. He flexed his arms up and licked his body, tasting the paper-thin skin. Andres moaned, Liam’s hands running up to caress his thick chest. He kept jutting forward to fill Liam’s small mouth, enjoying the sensation of wet tongue and tight throat. The hands moved to pinch his sensitive muscle-man nips then down again to move around the grooves of his newly formed giant abdomen. “Yeah, Andy, come on, bounce that muscle-cock!” Liam ordered, his voice deeper than it had been a few hours ago. Andres was too worked up to notice his own voice was a deep bass as well. Liam pulled himself off and licked Andres’s heavy, swollen nuts. Andres then whined, ready to explode at any moment. Liam stood up and forced his mouth onto Andres, tasting the sweetness left behind by the cookies that originally grew them huge. They began to frot, Liam’s saliva and Andres’s precome thoroughly lubing them as they pressed their thick muscles against each other. Their nips slid against each other as Andres noticed he’d gotten a little taller- enough to match his masculine mate. Andres quickly wrapped his thick arms around Liam and squeezed; so much he would’ve broken a normal man in two. Liam simply flexed his abs and spread his back open. Their massive quads did a wonderful job milking each other and soon the two were roaring, still squeezing and flexing. “I’m gonna blow!” Andres roared his arms going high up in the air as Liam’s hands pushed them up. Liam enjoyed feeling the lats under Andres’s arms. “Yeah, blow with me!” roared back Liam, breathing as close as he could to Andres’s neck (they were so wide and thick, it was hard to get close at this point). Andres gasped in unison with Liam, their cocks sliding upward as they exploded in a shower of thick, white cream. “Aww fuck! SO FUCKING POWERFUL!” Andres bellowed, Liam simply roaring in ecstasy. Ropes and ropes of thick cream splattered all over the place and Andres closed his eyes, holding Liam’s face as come actually landed on his own. He let his lips open so he could taste the juice that had been formed by two grown muscle-gods. It tasted surprisingly sweet, and very familiar. After they awoke Christmas morning (they went on and experienced many other sexual acts on Christmas Eve, capable of orgasm with full virility), they laughed and cooked breakfast. Eating to keep up this new weight would be hard, but Liam said they’d manage. “So is there cum in the cookies?” Andres asked. He didn’t feel so embarrassed to do so. “Well, technically. But it’s been distilled and altered through ‘natural’ alchemy. Only Santa knows how to make it, and he only leaves it for the nicest men who really want to grow. I made a deal to create cookies that would match. The frosting itself grows you, but you quickly shrink back if you don’t work your muscles hard and eat right. The cookies lengthen that time. I’m sure there’s someone having a GREAT Christmas morning right now, eating the cookies I let him have…” Liam said, frosting a new batch of cookies himself. “Lucky guy, then. Well, not so lucky. He doesn’t have you. Oh, are we going to eat those too? I don't think I need to be bigger, but damn, we'd both look amazing if we grew some more.” Andres said, feeling more confident than ever. Liam simply laughed. “No, some of these are to sell; nobody can recreate them so Santa won't be mad at me. If you want to eat some, we can have a little fun I guess. As to the person who got lucky enough to get them today it's only if he’s been REALLY good this year. Santa’s sure to let him have a cookie or two.” The two massive muscle-men kissed and laughed, excited to play with some more growing cookies. As Liam said, Santa DID give some cookies to a lucky guy, but whoever knows who it was? Maybe it'll be you this year, if you've been REALLY good. END TALE

The walk that the lady led the Titan on was almost like a dance. As she took decisive steps forward, the Titan, now slobbering like a dog, followed with stumbling steps, almost constant burbling and inane smirking. Porthos had no idea who this lady was, but he was falling head over heels in love with her. As she opened the door to a house and gestured the Titan in, it was clear to all that he had one thing on his mind as there was a noticeable bulge in his breeches. Ma maison est ta maison, ma rose est ta rose, mon amour est ton amour!" For the first time in many a year, Porthos felt weak at the knees. The personwho he had found out was a Countess, has showered Porthos with gifts, food and was now lying in his lap with her eyes closed and her mouth pursed as if expecting a kiss. "Madame" said Porthos, gently moving the Countess, "I regret that I am already married to the nation. You honour me with your confessions of love and yet, I must refuse!" "I understand" she said, and stood up, "but please, allow me to witness the power that a living Titan has in his body!" Porthos chuckled as he stood up. Everyone wanted to feel his strength, men, women and there was that occasion when a small boy squeezed his arm and said "Bigger than my father's!" so Porthos consented and bent his arms causing the shirt he was wearing to tear along the seam. The Countess gasped in admiration and instantly followed the tear with her finger, prodding the muscle that had created it. "And how strong is that?" she asked "Stronger than any man on earth!" Porthos smiled "Please, my lord" she said, "please, show me the strength that makes you a Titan!" Porthos looked around the room and found a very large oak cabinet, filled with various wine glasses and plates. He stepped over to it, squatted down, placed his hands underneath it and grunted. He slowly stood up, taking the cabinet with him and then removed a hand. "The power of a titan!" he grunted as he lifted the cabinet with one hand. The Countess moaned at this display of power and after Porthos lowered it back to the ground, she pounced on him and grabbed hold of his shirt. She ripped it open and pounded his chest. Porthos was suprised by this, but had to admit that he was enjoying all this attention and so flexed his chest. This caused the Countess to moan even more and so he breathed deeper causing the chest to heave and as it did, a stain started to appear on his breeches. He was just about to kiss the Countess when she shouted "NOW!" and jumped down. Porthos turned round and registered another man bringing a cannonball down on his head before blacking out. *** "I AM A TITAN!" roared Porthos as he broke the chains holding him to the steps of a temple dedicated to the Greek gods. As he collapsed to his knees, breathing hard, Hercules clapped his hands. "So, the Frenchman thinks he's better than me, does he?" and so saying launched himself at Porthos and two were involved in an epic Greco Roman wrestling match that if any man had witnessed it would have had them loosing their trousers within seconds. After nearly thirty minutes of man handling and feats of strength that would have left men, women and even children speechless, Porthos lifted the now limp Hercules over his head and roared "THE TITAN IS DEFEATED. LONG LIVE THE TITAN!" and threw him down the stairs and flexed every muscle in his body to prove his power *** Porthos groaned as he came to from the cannonball impact. As he opened his eyes, he could see the Countess in front of him who started to chuckle and then laugh. "So the titan thinks he is a god, eh?" she said and turned her back on him. "My lady, I..." started Porthos and then suddenly realised that something was wrong. He couldn't move his arms or feet. He opened his eyes wide and gasped. He was strapped, naked save for a loincloth, to the one thing he feared the most, a rack. The only thing that could make this situation worse was... "Ah, Monsieur Porthos, glad to see you back in the world of the living!" "Cardinal!" sneered Porthos as the French First Minister and advisor to the King entered the room. "Good, I am glad to see that you haven't lost your memory. Shame though, all that strength would be useful for my Guards. I assume you know Milady de Winter!". The countess bowed and when she stood up removed her disguise causing the giant to tug at his restraints. "Now then" said the Cardinal, "just tell us what we want to know and we'll let you go!" "I will never betray the confidences I have in me!" Porthos grunted. The Cardinal nodded and a bolt of pain shot down Porthos's spine causing him to scream in agony. "Now" he said, as Porthos started to puff and pant, "I wonder how many of those the famed titan can take before he begs to tell us everything? Milady?" and with that he left the room as another bolt shot down the spine of the giant causing his screams to resonate throughout the chamber.

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

Check out the previous installments here: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2206-the-milking-agent-part-1-2/ After finally giving in to his desires and growing into an furry beast like Gabe and Madison, Russell finishes having hot manly sex with his master sharing milk with him and vice versa. Knowing that they can’t grow any further, the thought crosses their minds as to who they could convert next. Gabriel still sits behind them scooping up the cum he shot when he saw Russell become a giant himself. He tries to stand up from where he is sitting and struggles to regain his footing. He ends up falling out the window directly behind him and tumbles to the ground. The other two manage to go over to see if he is alright since he fell about three stories and landed on the concrete. ‘Uhhh…..*looks up at them where the window was and laughs* I’m fine I think *sees the blood that was spilled from his body being absorbed back inside him and grins* OMG boys, we can’t be hurt…..at least when it is just a minor fall like this. *sees the broken concrete around him* FUCK ME! I LOVE IT! *looks back up at them again* You two can enjoy yourselves up there, I am going to go look for some fun myself. *gets up out of the crater and turns to start waddling towards the other side of the city*’ Madison and Russell feel each other up again while trying to brainstorm who else they know that is close to them that they want to convert. Since he is part of the financial division of the company, Russell remembers that one of his young coworkers always stared at him in a very flirty way. Madison thinks he knows who that is since he has sat in on some of their meetings since he is Gabriel’s assistant. Since it is afterhours, they have to come up with a plan to get this guy to come in. Russell thinks that he can tell him that they are having an emergency meeting and needs his help to come up with a solution especially since the building is in such disarray. They both laugh in their deep baritones and give several nice tugs on each other’s nipples spraying milk all over themselves. Trying not to get into another sex session, Russell says he will go find a phone in another part of the building to get the ball rolling. Madison stands there trying to think of someone he knows that could be a part of this plan too. The only other guy he can think of is his friend from the cafeteria, Galen. He knows that sometimes he stays late to cleanup and generally can’t hear things on the bottom floor. Wasting no more time, he starts waddling his way through the third floor and down a flight of stairs nearby. When he gets to the bottom floor, he reaches for the door to go out into the main lobby and accidentally rips it off the hinges like it is made of paper. The sheer power in his hands amazes him as he tosses the door beside him. When he walks through the doorway, he looks around to see if anyone is still in the building. The cafeteria is located about 100 feet down the hall which he quickly starts rushing towards. When he finally gets there, he can hear someone in behind a nearby wall located just beside where he is standing. He decides to just press on it which makes the drywall shift and start collapsing. The voice behind the wall yells in fright. ‘HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE HELL!? *moves back away from the crumbling wall* What is going on with this….. *sees the giant figure in front of the wall* OH GAWD….. *starts running the other way*’ Madison jumps through the hole in the wall and shakes the floor making everything in the kitchen area bounce around and fall over. The man ends up getting knocked down by falling dishes and pots. He continues to yell in fright fearing for his life as this huge giant continues to walk towards him. When Madison finally stands above the rubble, he pushes the mountain of debris off of his scared buddy and picks him up. The man is actually fairly large, not muscled but rather husky. He is wearing a dirty tank top and a pair of shorts that do little to cover up most of his crotch. He tries to punch Madison in the face but ends up doing very little damage to him and may have hurt himself. He grabs his hand and groans feeling the pain go up his arm. The huge giant restrains him and looks him straight in the eyes. The man seems really distracted now as he tries to figure out who this might be. ‘Wait? You look vaguely familiar. *stares at Madison’s mountainous pecs and leaky nipples* You…..are leaking…..but you are not…..*seems really distraught*…..I don’t understand…..’ Madison smiles and forces the man’s face into his huge pecs. The man feels the muscles pressing against his face and tries to resist. He can’t breathe in fact which makes the giant pull him away from them. The man gasps several times before staring up at Madison’s face again. The giant looks down at him and gives him an ultimatum. ‘Galen…..*talks in a softer tone*…..I’m Madison remember? Well, I don’t look the same exactly but I’m still your pal Madison. *smiles before placing Galen in front of his engorged nipples* I need you to do something for me buddy. Will you suck all of the milk out of my pecs for me please? I would try to myself, but I can’t seem to be able to reach them. *laughs*’ Galen’s eyes widen as Madison bounces both pecs spilling milk down his bloated gut. The small man writhes trying to get free but the giant just increases his grip which makes the little man grimace. Once again, Madison places the man’s face in front of his huge engorged hairy pecs. This time the man seems a little more receptive to his orders and opens his mouth to lick his swollen left nipple. He gets a few drops of milk on his tongue and moans tasting its sweet mixture. It isn’t long before he locks his lips on the nipple and guzzles down everything it makes. Madison feels the changes immediately taking hold in Galen as the man’s body quickly starts to grow. His legs and quads expand rapidly making the giant have to loosen his grip on him. He can hear Galen grunting as he moves over to Madison’s other swollen nipple and goes crazy draining it. The sensation makes the big man spray multiple jets of cum all over the kitchen. Galen’s back muscles are doubling up on themselves as his tank is unable to compete with the incredible mass now forming on his frame. It completely disintegrates in seconds as his arms, pecs, and gut grow at the same time. He grips the giant with his growing hands as he continues expanding wider feeling his spine crack and lengthen feeling himself getting taller to accommodate the additional size. ‘MORE! *shorts rip off* MORE! *ass flares out and cock thickens* MMMMMM…..*drains Madison’s right nipple* AHHHH! *looks down at his swollen roidgut and punches it* Oh my gawd, my pecs are so sensitive. *feels them and realizes that they are also filling up with milk* OHHH SHIT…..I am going to cum so much……*blasts his volcano all over Madison which draws several moans from the big guy* MMMMM……*moves down to swallow his master’s cock and works it over*’ Madison humps his mouth for several minutes before he shoots his huge load down Galen’s throat. The now equally large hairy beast pulls his master’s cock out of his mouth and stands up to look at him face to face. They grin at each other and start rubbing their roidguts together before they decide to start wrestling around destroying everything in the kitchen area. Eventually they end up going through another wall and landing on the ground out into the main lobby. The two sweaty monsters finally take a breather before Madison moves down to delicately suck on Galen’s mammoth blond haired pecs. The sensation makes the newly christened giant roar in delight as his cock erupts each time Madison slurps the milk out of his pecs. It gets to the point where the master giant alternates between sucking Galen’s cock and sucking on his huge nipples. ‘Ohh buddy, you taste so much better than Russell. I could do this for hours and hours if I could. *realizes that he is making Galen lose consciousness and stops* Whoops, I will let up on you pal.’ Galen sits up once Madison quits servicing him. The blond haired giant looks him in the eyes and gives him a deep kiss on the lips which is returned by the darker haired behemoth. He realizes that Galen does have feelings for him as he leans against him. They pet each other’s bodies for a few moments before they start talking again. ‘So…..when did this happen to you Madison? I am guessing that this happened not too long ago since I just saw you a couple of days ago. Have you destroyed the rest of the building yet? *laughs in his new baritone*’ ‘Well….*rolls his eyes* not the whole building, but the third floor is pretty ransacked. I am not the only one in this condition in case you were wondering.’ Galen grins before he scoots over to a nearby wall to pick himself up. He then walks back over to Madison to help him up. They start walking down the main lobby together still talking. ‘I am anxious to know who else you have changed Madison. I’m not sure I have ever met this Russell you are talking about.’ ‘Ahh, he is this incredibly sexy redhead. Changing him was fun, but not quite as fun as it was changing you.’ Galen reaches over to plant another kiss on Madison’s lips before pounding on the big guy’s pecs making milk cascade down his chest again. The dark haired giant does the same to Galen which starts another sequence of spraying each other with milk. Galen’s sensitivity in his pecs ultimately is also leading to faster production of sperm as well as Madison is finding out. He gives the blond giant a few sucks on his huge tool and gulps down the thick juices he produces. Once he is done drinking his white flood, he gets back up on his feet to answer another question Galen asks him. ‘So the growth stops once I suck the milk out the first time Madison?’ ‘It appears that is true pal. I hope we can figure out a way around this though since we will probably run out of converts eventually.’ The two behemoths begin searching for Russell who is looking for someone himself to convert.

I'm a long-time reader, first time writer. This story was inspired by a tumblr blog I saw once (although I cannot find it again). ********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************* BBQ Sauce ********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************* My heart was pounding. Jim would be home soon. I knew he would be hungry, he was always hungry. Did I make enough food? Did I remember to get all his supplements? I’d heaped the table with piles of chicken, potatoes, sausages and broccoli but it was never enough. I’d also defrosted four enormous steaks which were now sitting out near the grill. Maybe if I was lucky he’d even let me have some. I looked at the clock, five hours had passed since Jim left for the gym. When I heard the crunch of gravel on the driveway, my cock started to pulse with excitement. The front door opened and though I couldn’t see him, I could sure smell him. Pure musk. Pure testosterone. It was intoxicating. I waited in the back like I was supposed to. Jim walked through the house and found me sitting on the couch. God he was beautiful. Only 19 years old and the biggest guy I had ever seen in my life. At 6’8” and 300 pounds of pure muscle he was nothing short of a god. His head sat upon a pair of enormous traps framed by beautifully ripped shoulders. Veins visibly snaked down his arms, over his horseshoe triceps and 25” biceps then down and across his ham-sized forearms. His sweat-stained tank top couldn’t contain his massive chest. His pecs hung off him in thick dense slabs, one nipple, the size of a half-dollar, peaked out tantalizingly dripping with sweat. Jim looked down at me and smirked staring at my erection. “You like what you see don’t you little buddy?” he asked, heaving his arms into the air and flexing. “Well honestly who wouldn’t, I’m a fuckin beast? 19 years old and already 300 pounds of pure muscle.” Jim spotted the steaks near the grill and smiled. “Good boy”. Jim always wanted to do the grilling himself. I followed the muscle god outside into the afternoon sunshine. He was so massive that he had to turn sideways to get through the sliding glass door. Jim threw the four massive steaks onto the hot grill then grabbed the bottom of his tank and seductively pulled it over his head. Brick by brick his 8-pack came into view. Each deeply carved ab was coated in a fine sheen of sweat. Will I get to clean them? The muscle beast walked up to me. His pecs blocked out the sun. His scent was overpowering. I could see every hair, every striation, ever bead of sweat but I knew I couldn’t touch until I had permission. I looked up, over his abs, past his massive chest and into his startlingly green eyes. Jim smiled at me knowingly. Then suddenly and irrestistibly he pushed my head down towards his mammoth bulge. With his other hand, Jim pulled his enormous package from his gym shorts. His 10” cock and lemon-sized balls flopped out. His dick was so thick that even flaccid I couldn’t get my hand around it. I ran my tongue up and down the shaft, tasting the musk as it ballooned upwards. The heat coming off it was incredible. As I continued working the shaft with my tongue Jim tended to the steaks. While Jim expertly charred the slabs of beef on the grill, his monster cock grew to 16” in length and the diameter of a coke can. There was simply no way I could take his mammoth rod in my mouth so I worked my way feverishly around the head. His dick felt like hot iron on my tongue. I chanced a glance up and saw Jim’s muscles thrown into sharp relief by the setting sun. Jim’s quads began straining at the thin fabric of his shorts as his body tensed up. I heard threads begin to pop and rip as Jim started to let out deep guttural moans of pleasure. Then all at once, Jim let out a thundering roar as his cock released torrents of thick white cum. I tried to take as much of the alpha seed as I could but the force and volume threw me backwards onto the ground. Jim’s gym shorts, no longer able to contain all his godly muscle burst off him and fell into the growing pool of cum at his feet. When his orgasm subsided, Jim removed the steaks from the grill and set them on a platter. He then ran his hand down the length of his shaft collecting what cum remained in the palm of his hand. Jim spread the thick white cream on the smallest steak and threw it at my feet. “Eat up” he said.

Twenty-two In the gym Alex recovered from the most intense orgasm he had ever had. He grinned at the sight of the cum drenched dumbbells and mirror. He looked down and saw cum slowly flowing down in the deep canyons of his strong 12-pack. He left the gym, strutted through the deserted locker room and entered the shower zone. He smirked as he noticed the past out, fallen star athlete Logan still lying on the tilled floor. He ignored the now 90 pound quarterback, turned on a shower and washed his beastly body. Soaping his huge, steely muscles made him hard again and within seconds he creamed all over the wall. He turned around and blasted two more loads over Logan, coating his frail body with a thick layer of his sticky cum. He turned off the shower, grabbed Logan’s towel and sensually dried his meaty muscles. He slowly strutted into the locker room. Alex opened his locker and smiled: none of his clothes would fit anymore. He went over to Logan’s locker and grabbed the lock. He clenched his fist, easily breaking the metal lock. He ripped off the door with his 55 inch right arm and pulled out the team captain’s bag. He went through its content and fished out Logan’s football jersey. It had been made to fit over the armor covering the quarterback’s 320 pound frame. Alex ripped off the sleeves as they would never fit over his 55 inch arms. The shirt protested with tearing sounds as he pulled it on. It ripped a few inches under his armpits but stretched to the max as it hugged his bulging muscles. Alex sat down on the bench and noticed a dark ribbon in the bag. He pulled it out and recognized it: Logan wore the ribbon to indicate he was the team captain. Logan always put it around his 25 inch arm to emphasize the size of his then impressive bicep. Alex slid it over his left arm and grinned: the ribbon could only made it halfway on his thick forearm. The elastic fabric creaked as he clenched his fist and the steely cords of muscle bulged on his forearm. In the shower zone Logan slowly regained consciousness. He blinked a few times to focus his vision and quizzically looked around. Tears filled his eyes as reality came crashing down on him: he recalled how the mysteriously beefed up Alex had sucked him off and how his hard earned muscles had melted away. He got up slowly, his weak legs shaking from the effort as the large amount of sticky cum gluing him to the floor, gave in to the pressure. He hit the button of the shower three times at full force before managing to press it hard enough to turn the shower on. “Alex didn’t grow as he sucked me off. This means my buddy Paul is the biggest man on the team. I’ll get him and Mike to help me get back on Alex”, he said to himself as he rinsed the cum from his skinny body. The shower stopped and since he didn’t succeed in turning it on again, Logan left the shower zone. He searched for his towel but didn’t find it and entered the locker room. He gasped loudly as he stared at the massive back of the figure sitting on the bench in front of his locker. He saw how his own big shirt looked like it was painted onto the behemoth: it stretched to the max as it tried to contain the huge muscles that were clearly visible on the impossibly wide back. Alex turned around and looked straight into the fallen star athlete’s eyes: sitting down he was the same height of the standing Logan. “I hope you don’t mind I’ve put on your shirt. Mine doesn’t fit anymore”, he said. Logan’s mouth hung open in disbelief, but no sound came out. Alex’ deep baritone voice send vibrations through his weak body as it echoed against the walls. His eyes wandered over the huge pecs and strong 12-pack abs pushing against the white fabric. “I tore off the sleeves. They were tight around your arms. They would’ve never been able to contain my arms”, Alex added matter-of-factly. Logan gazed at the ripped off sleeves. Some torn off strings lay atop the water boy’s beastly, perfectly round, cannonball-sized delts that stuck out widely at his sides. They led to unbelievably thick, football-sized, vein-covered biceps that hung relaxed next to the behemoth. Alex followed the quarterback’s gaze down and snickered as he saw Logan stare at the ribbon on his forearm. “I always marveled at how this ribbon highlighted your biceps. How big were they, captain?”, Alex asked. “25 inches”, Logan replied, his high-pitched voice drowning in the water boy’s deep baritone. “I only get them half way up my forearms. Means that my forearms are thicker than your biceps were”, Alex said and clenched his fist hard. Logan’s eyes widened as the cords of muscle on the forearm thickened. The elastic fabric of the ribbon split as it could no longer contain the tree-sized forearm. The fallen star athlete’s pathetic dick hardened to its new, 1 inch size at the sight. “Oops. Seems like my forearms are bigger than your pumped biceps were. And my pinky is longer and thicker than your baby dick”, Alex said as he held his pinky next to the quarterback’s hard cock. Logan looked down and tears filled his eyes as he realized that the behemoth was right. His dick was rock hard but was clearly shorter and thinner than the finger next to it. He lowered his head to hide his tears. “Look up at the new star of the team”, Alex said and put his finger under Logan’s chin to make him look up, “go ahead and cry like the weak little boy you now are.” Logan fought against his tears as he was forced to look into the behemoth’s eyes. “It’s time to inform the other members of the bulk squad there’s a new top dog on the team. Get dressed and lead me to Mike and Paul. Matt will be dealt with later. Oh, and from now on your place in the locker room is with the skinny boys on the other side of the table. Got it?”, Alex boomed. Sean and Keith jumped up from the bed as Connor barged into their room. “Why aren’t you back to your normal size?”, Keith asked as he stared up at his younger brother’s huge frame. “Oh, uncle said I first have to get Anton. Now I’m still big enough to carry him over to Tomas’ room. Then everything shall be how it’s meant to be”, Connor replied. “He’s locked away in the basement. The furthest door on the right when you go down the stairs”, Keith said. “Thanks. You guys stay here and in a couple of hours things will be back to normal”, Connor said and left. “Told you my brother was still the same good guy”, Keith said to Sean. “Something’s not right. You don’t think this is a trap set by Tomas to get Anton free?”, Sean asked. “No. I trust my little bro. You saw how my uncle made him repent and freed him from Tomas’ evil influence. Have some faith”, Keith stated. “I sure hope you’re right, buddy. I’ve got a strange feeling. We haven’t heard from Logan anymore. And wasn’t your brother supposed to be tutored by that Alex guy when we ran into him?”, Sean asked. A loud clap of thunder cut off their conversation. “See”, Keith said, “the fight between my uncle and Tomas is underway. I just know everything will turn out fine. Soon we’ll be back to our muscular selves and dominate the wrestle team again.” “Mike lives over there”, Logan said and pointed at the house in front of them. Alex had insisted on visiting Mike first, even though he lived off campus and Paul on. The long walk had only taken them a couple of minutes: after a few hundred yards, Alex had put Logan on his back because he couldn’t keep up with the behemoth’s long legs. Logan had wrapped his bony arms around the muscular bull neck and simply indicated the route. “His mum will probably be home”, Logan said as a huge paw grabbed his baggy shirt and put him down. “I’ll handle it. You go first and ring”, Alex boomed and shoved the 90 pound former quarterback toward the door as he stayed on the sidewalk Within seconds Mike’s mother opened the door. Before Logan could say a word, she said: “Oh, you must be Logan’s little brother. You have the same features as him. He’s just way bigger. What can I do for you?”. Logan fought against his tears and before he could speak, Alex emerged behind him. “Logan’s little, 12 year old brother brought me here, madam”, he said, “I’m the new star quarterback. Logan told me your son is one of our best players so I really wanted to meet him. Logan was feeling drained and he send his little bro to show me your house”. Mike’s mother looked in shock and lust at the heavily muscled athlete in front of her. She sensually licked her lips and her breathing fastened. She blushed as the quarterback blinked at her. “He’s in the uhn… pool. Should I uhn… call uhn… him?”, she blurted out. “Oh no, I don’t want to keep you from your work”, Alex said, “can we go join him?”. “Sure uhn… Just uhn… go around the house and call me uhn… if you need anything. Anything at all”, she lustfully said and stared into Alex’ eyes. Alex grabbed Logan’s bony shoulder and dragged him along to the backyard. “Stay here and don’t make a sound”, he said as he threw Logan onto the grass. He quickly removed his clothes and silently lowered himself in the pool. Mike was floating around on an inflatable crocodile, enjoying the warmth of the sun. The crocodile suddenly flipped over and he landed in the water with a splash. “Must have lost my balance”, he said to himself as he resurfaced in the center of the pool. He looked at the side of the pool and noticed his phone was ringing. He swam toward the edge but around halfway the distance something grabbed his thigh. He yelled in surprise and struggled. The thing released his thigh. He looked around but didn’t see anyone. Suddenly, a large paw grabbed his ankle and dragged him back to the center of the pool. Mike shoved and struggled but his muscular leg could break free. He extended his arms, trying to swim away as his 262 pound, athletic body was dragged to the center of the pool. The paw released his ankle and Mike put his feet on the pool floor. He turned around quickly to see who or what was in there with him. A big shadow fell over Mike as Alex emerged from the water. Water cascaded down from his gigantic muscles, highlighting the deep cuts and lines as he rose up and up, towering over the 5’8 athlete. Mike froze and stared in awe at the muscular beast inches away from him. His football instincts alarmed his brain and ordered him to flee. Before he could back away, two huge paws grabbed his armpits and hoisted him up until he was eyelevel with the strangely familiar giant. His torso was exposed up to his speedo, his legs were still in the water but his feet didn’t reach the floor anymore. He was totally at the mercy of the beast that held him effortlessly. “Came to tell you there’s a new captain on the team”, Alex boomed at the athlete that felt like a feather in his grip. “Alex?”, Mike gasped in disbelief. His brain alarmed him to break free and run for it but his body didn’t react to the commands. He just stared at how the formerly skinny water boy dwarfed him in height and width: Alex’ broad, perfectly round, beastly shoulders were twice as broad than his own thick ones. “How?” “Let’s say that Logan already paid for his faults”, Alex replied and ripped off Mike’s speedo, “Liking what you see?”. Mike shivered as the cold air brushed against his hardening dick. “Let me go, please”, he pleaded as he held his hands in front of his inflating 8 incher. He wiggled and flexed his torso but the strong arms that held him didn’t budge. “You gonna do whatever your new captain says?”, Alex asked and shook him lightly. Mike’s vision danced as his 262 pound body rocked back and forth by the sheer force of the behemoth. His hard cock smacking against his eight-pack. “Yes, I’ll do whatever you say”, he said quickly. “Good. But I want to make sure you know your place”, Alex said. He turned Mike around, slammed his back against his own protruding pecs and rammed his engorged 20 incher into his teammate’s ass. “No!”, Mike cried in pain as inch after inch of the thick, hard cock invaded his ass. “Everything okay, boys?”, Mike’s mother asked as she emerged at the backdoor. Lust exploded down her body as she stared Alex’ exposed muscular torso. “Mum, help. He’s raping me. Call the cops!”, Mike cried in fear as tears flowed over his cheeks. “Everything’s okay, Madam. Just a little horseplay between teammates”, Alex said and bounced his pecs, making striations explode over them. A large wet stain formed on Mike’s mother’s pants and she rushed back into the house. “You didn’t think I was going to stop ‘cause your mother was here? No one can stop me. Let’s have some fun”, Alex said and began swimming around the pool with Mike impaled on his dick. Mike was pushed under water by Alex’ beastly body as he swam lap after lap. Mike took deep breaths every time he could but his vision began going black. Alex turned around and continued swimming on his back, exposing Mike atop his frame. Mike took deep breaths to fill his lungs. His head rested on Alex’ protruding, half melon-sized pecs, his ass aching as the thick, engorged 20 incher jolted inside it, his own 8 incher pointed stubbornly hard at the sky. He grabbed hold of Alex’ sides and pushed to free himself. Alex put his left paw on Mike’s chest, covering it entirely and began shoving him up and down his monster cock. Mike fought with all his might, but the behemoth’s left arm easily overpowered his 262 pound body. His well-trained muscles flexed and a loud moan escaped his mouth as his 8 incher exploded: four loads of cum shot straight upward and splattered down onto his eight-pack. “I lasted longer when I was a runt”, Alex grunted in his ear between fastening breaths. Soon enough his balls churned and began blasting loads of sticky cum through the long shaft of his engorged 20 incher. The pressure build inside Mike as more cum blasted into his intestines. After about five minutes Alex pulled Mike from his still hard cock, shot a final load in Mike’s face and tossed the 262 pound athlete away in the pool. Mike resurfaced and stared at the insanely muscular back as Alex climbed from the pool. He ogled the display of striations and veins as the behemoth toweled his meaty muscles. Alex pulled on Logan’s shirt again and looked down as he heard Mike’s phone ringing. He grabbed it and saw that it was an incoming call from Logan. He crushed the phone in his paw and dropped the remains in the pool. “I own the team from now”, he bellowed at Mike and left. Logan tried recalling Mike in vain. Suddenly, his feet left the ground and he stared into Alex’ angry face. The giant took the phone from his hand and crushed it between his fingers. “Not smart to make me angry, you worm”, Alex boomed in his face, “get me to Paul!” Back at Orchid University Connor forced the lock and slammed open the door indicated by his runt brother. He rushed inside the room and discovered the past out Anton dangling in the center of the room. He ripped off the thick chains and gently put the bruise covered, 580 pound body over his shoulder. He returned to Tomas’ room where he slowly put Anton on the bed. “Will he be okay?”, he asked as looked down on the painfully breathing beast. “He’s heavily injured, but will recover. He’ll just need some time. I’ll use my magic to speed up his recovery but it will still take some weeks. The ritual will have to wait ‘till then”, Tomas said. Tomas fetched an ancient looking book from his desk, opened it and ordered Connor to stand back. He began invoking strange incantations. An infernal heath invaded the room and Anton’s 580 pound body began floating above the bed. “Restitutionem salubris, bestia meae! Revigorationem corpus suis! Ego! Hic! Nunc!” Small dark clouds formed above Anton’s body and little lightning flashes shot into his thick, meaty muscles. Faint grunts left Anton’s mouth with every lighting that struck. Connor stared in awe at the scene, wondering just how powerful Tomas was. As promptly the clouds had appeared, they disappeared. Anton’s body gently landed on the bed. “Now my pet can recover in peace. You helped me bring down those priests and saved my pet”, Tomas said to Connor, “Name your reward. Whatever you will, you’ll get!”. Connor scratched his stubbly beard as he thought and smiled as he got an idea. “I want Kurt”, he said. “Consider it done”, Tomas replied, “Now go train yourself for the ritual. You have 10 days to be ready!”. Connor nodded and left the room. Logan’s knees buckled slightly as his feet hit the ground again. Alex had thrown him on his broad back once more as they had returned to Orchid University. “That’s his room”, he said as he pointed at a door on his left. “Good”, Alex said. He motioned the fallen star athlete to enter and they barged into the room. Paul stood up from his desk and turned around as his door opened. He quizzically looked at the two strangely familiar figures that entered. “Logan? Alex? What the hell happened to you guys?”, he asked as he recognized them. Logan began to speak, but Alex quickly cut him off: “Sit and shut up!”, he bellowed. Paul and Logan instantly sat down on the bed. Paul wrapped his muscular arm around his buddy to protect him. “The new team captain wants to have some fun with his teammates. Strip!”, Alex ordered and began pulling off his own clothes. Paul and Logan got up and did as they were told, removing their pants and shirts. Logan stared down to avoid Paul’s gaze; he wasn’t used to being the smallest guy. “You have a scale and a tape here?”, Alex asked, savoring how he outsized the others. “In the bathroom”, Paul replied. “Get them, boy”, Alex said to Logan, who sprang into the bathroom to fetch them. “Let’s check our weight”, Alex said and put Logan on the scale. “What does it say?”, he asked Paul. “90 pounds”, Paul read from the scale. “That’s even smaller than I was”, Alex said, “seems like you fell from quarterback to flatback. Your turn!”. Logan stepped down and Paul stepped on the scale. “275”, Logan peeped in his high-pitched voice. “That’s a start”, Alex said and shoved Paul from the scale. “What does it say?” “5… 501 pounds”, Logan said in disbelief staring up at the tower of muscle in front of him. He couldn’t even see Alex’ face as the protruding rack of pecs blocked it from his view. “Yeah! A real man now leads the team”, he boomed and kicked the scale aside. “We’ve always admired your arms, ‘Captain Canon’”, Alex said, “Why don’t you let Paul measure them?”. Logan shook his head but knew he couldn’t resist the alpha man. He reluctantly raised his right arm and flexed it, avoiding to look at it. Paul wrapped the tape around the bony arm, whispering “I’m sorry, man”, and tightened it: “5 inches”, he said. “Seems like the canons aren’t loaded anymore”, Alex said laughingly, “Let’s make our new flatback measure your quads, ‘quadster’”. Paul handed the tape to Logan and flexed his thickly muscled quads. He controlled his breathing as he felt his former team captain’s hands on his thighs: he had always secretly lusted after Logan’s beefy body and even now that he had shrunken down, Logan still turned him on. Logan wrapped the tape across the meaty quad, noticing how the cock in Paul’s briefs slowly hardened. “35 inches”, he said admiringly, “man, I’ve always felt intimidated by your legs. Didn’t realize they were this big”. “Sorry to interrupt you ladies, but it’s time for something big now”, Alex boomed and sat down on the bed, “Measure this, flatback!”. Paul and Logan stared as Alex extended his right arm. The size of the vein-covered, meaty forearm seemed to rival Logan’s quads. Logan looked up expectantly at the even juicier bicep. “Not yet”, Alex said with a smirk, “first measure my forearm.” Logan put the tape around the tree-sized forearm. He gasped as Alex clenched his fist, making the steely hard cords of muscles swell and even more veins explode under the paper-thin skin. “37 inches”, he whispered and pulled away the tape. “Bigger than your quads, ‘quadster’”, Alex boomed, “Ready for a real big arm now?”. Logan and Paul gawked in awe as Alex raised his right arm. The thick tricep hung low and was clearly separated from the football-sized bicep. The bicep exploded upward and outward as Alex brought in his forearm: veins exploded all over the pineapple-sized orb of beef that swelled atop the arm. “Measure it, flatback!” Logan slowly and admiringly wrapped the tape around the ball of muscle, groping it in the process. His one inch dick was rock hard as his hands felt the impossibly thick bicep. His eyes widened even more as Alex hardened his flex and the peak swelled some more. “Well, what does it say?”, Alex asked. “Just over 55 inches”, Logan peeped. “Bigger than both your former arms crammed together! Seems like there’s a ‘King Canon’ on the team now, flatback”, Alex boomed. Logan couldn’t believe the size of Alex’ arms. His hand couldn’t even fit around the beastly peak anymore. He put his other hand on the other side of the peak and even then it still wasn’t totally covered. His dick leaked a feeble load as Alex stood up and he hung from the pineapple-sized bicep. Logan’s weak grip faltered and he fell on the ground on his ass, Paul quickly helped him to his feet. Alex looked down on the two athletes and laughed, savoring how he dominated them. He grabbed Logan, effortlessly lifted his undefined 90 pound body, tore off his briefs and tossed him on the bed. “Hey! Leave him alone!”, Paul said loudly. “You gonna make me?”, Alex asked. He turned around and looked down on Paul’s 275 pound frame. Paul gulped and stepped back as the behemoth in front of him slightly flexed his beastly muscles. “I thought so, Alex said and ripped off Paul’s boxers too, “Now you’re gonna fuck our flatback.” “No. I won’t hurt him”, Paul replied instantly and looked at the diminished Logan on the bed. “Wrong answer”, Alex said. He quickly made a fist and slammed it against Paul’s defined, strong abs. The meaty paw busted right through the hard muscles and sank deeply into the 275 pound athlete’s stomach “Augh”, Paul yelled in pain. Alex grabbed hold of his left armpit and effortlessly lifted him off the floor. He ripped off Paul’s boxers and roughly stroked his cock to hardness. Paul’s feet dangled in the air and his muscular frame rocked back and forth as the behemoth pulled on his inflating cock. Within seconds the meaty paw had it to its 7 inches. Logan got up and slid from the bed. “Let him go!”, he peeped in his high-pitched voice and threw his tiny, weak fists against the former water boy’s beastly 12-pack. “Feels like a fly on my frame”, Alex said. He grabbed the diminished quarterback’s torso, covering it entirely with his paw, and tossed him back on the bed on his stomach. He released Paul’s rock hard 7 incher and threw him on his now frail teammate. “Augh”, Logan grunted as the 275 pound Paul fell on his weak 90 pound body. “Let’s have some fun”, Alex boomed. He positioned Paul’s cock against Logan’s ass en rammed it hard into it. “Augh!”, Logan cried out in pain as the engorged 7 incher was slammed into him completely. “I’m sorry, buddy”, Paul whispered in Logan’s ear and slowly pulled back. “Were just beginning”, Alex said. He put his left paw on Paul’s lower back and rammed him back into their skinny teammate. “No! Please”, Logan peeped in agony. Pain exploded through his weakened 90 pound body as Paul’s hard cock kept being slammed into his ass and his 275 pound frame was being pushed against him. Tears flowed from his eyes as his frail body protested against the treatment. “I’m so sorry, man”, Paul whispered every time the behemoth shoved him hard into the bony ass. He positioned his muscular arms at his sides and tried resisting the large paw on his lower back. “Your weak arms are no match for my left arm”, Alex smirked and began pushing even harder. At the same time, his right hand roamed his own thick, protruding pecs and played with his nipples. The bed creaked in protest as Paul’s 275 pound body kept being pushed up and down atop the now crying Logan. Logan grunted in pain as he felt the hard 7 incher twitch inside him. Paul’s hard muscles flexed against his weak back as orgasm raced through him and his cock exploded down the bony ass. “No need to thank me, guys”, Alex said laughingly, “See you boys at practice tomorrow. And don’t be late!”. He released Paul’s back, put on his cloths and abandoned his battered teammates. “I’m so sorry, man. Are you okay?”, Paul asked as he withdrew his deflating cock from Logan’s ass. Logan didn’t react. He peeped a final time as the head of his teammates cock left his worn out ass. He rolled himself into a ball, grabbed his knees and laid on the bed crying in pain and shame. Paul gently patted his hair and wrapped his arm around his fallen team captain. “He’ll never touch you again, I swear”, he said, “We’ll get back on him tomorrow at practice with the entire team.”. Logan sobbed weakly in his big friend’s protective grasp.

I was on a roll so I made another tiny chapter. Sorry they are so small but it seems that it's easier to work with and post them. Close Encounter Part 3: Evolution "Sir, you're holding me." Ben said sofly. Sir looked at Ben with no real reaction other than a raised eye. "It seems I am. Should I not be?" "Oh no, no! I love it. But I just wonder what made you do it?" Ben asked turning to face Sir full on resting his head on the alien's huge pectoral. Sir was briefly wordless for a minute as he contemplated his action before speaking. "I don't know... I just did. It felt right." Ben smiled. "I'm glad it felt right to you." Both of them turned back to look at the ceiling for no reason than to just lay there against each other for a few minutes. "For some reason, I feel connected to you." Sir spoke out loud. "It may be the experiment but I'm not sure." "Well, we share DNA now. That may be the reason" Ben replied but refrained from speaking his thought of "I hope it's not just that but something more." "It might be." Sir guessed in response. Ben did a double take. "Did you just hear my thoughts?" Ben asked lifting his head off of Sir which caused Sir to lift himself on his elbows. "Did you not just speak it?" Sir asked. "I heard you plainly." "No, I thought it. I never said it out loud." Ben replied with a half smile before putting his hand to his head. "Are you okay? I sense there is something wrong." Sir asked, his eyes widening a bit showing his concern. "No, I'm okay. I guess that bout of wild sex took a lot out of me. Just a small headache..." Ben replied quickly. "I just need to lie down..." Ben got up quickly but wobbled causing Sir to jump up with an amazing speed to catch him. "Wow! That was some..." Ben began to clutch his head his body slowly sinking to the floor. "Ben! Are you okay?" Sir's voice resonated through the room joined with other voices and sounds. Ben began to hear it bounce around in his head like an echo chamber. "I can't hear you Sir. It's so loud." Ben muttered going into a delirium. Sir probed Ben's mind to see if he could find the answer but was soon hearing a din of static. The static sound was so loud and so sudden that Sir almost dropped Ben clutching his own head. Sir managed to disconnect himself from probing Ben's mind, picked him up, and placed him on the bed. Sir began to feel Ben's body to check for any signs of other problems. Ben's eyes shut hard suddenly and his back arched. Sir felt the muscles in Ben suddenly tense up and bulge beyond their original size. Sir bent down over Ben and looked directly at Ben's face while he put his hands to both sides of his head. "Open your eyes, Ben." Sir said out loud. Ben reacted with a dramatic shift as his body suddenly started to writhe and bulge. Ben's body began to bend and twist as his muscles grew larger. Sir opened up the mind link again. "OPEN YOUR EYES!" Sir commanded inside Ben's head as the static seared through his own mind. Ben screamed and his eyes shot open wide revealing two black orbs much like Sir's. Ben's body exploded with muscle mass as he continued in his tranformation busting through his clothing. Ben's arms blew out of the sleeves. His back tore his shirt as his lats busted out the sides. Ben's legs flexed and the fabric made a loud crack as his legs bulged out the seams. Ben's cock bulged further and furher out almost a foot before it also burst through, steel hard and throbbing angrily. Sir pushed his mind further into the static staring intently into his eyes. "Ben! Look at me. You need to focus on me. You must calm your mind. What you are hearing is all the interference of all the frequencies that I am capable of hearing." Ben was still writhing but his eyes were now locked with Sir's. Sir searched his surrounding frequencies to find something constant and steady. A ticking clock started to sound off quietly but distinctly in the static. Sir increased it's volume in his head. "Focus on the clock Ben. Hear it ticking. Focus on it." Sir commanded in Ben's head. "Think of nothing else, let the ticking be the only sound you hear." The static began to clear with the exception of the ticking clock. Sir's trick was working. "Can you hear me Ben?" Sir spoke through the ticking. Ben nodded and his body begain to calm itself. "Good. Keep focusing on the ticking and my voice." The static continued to decrease to a barely audible level. Ben was breathing hard and his eyes were less wide open. Sir released his hands from Ben's head and moved back looking at the result of the transformation. "What just happened?" Ben croaked finding his voice again. "A transformation." Sir replied now running his hands clinically up and down Ben's body. "I feel so heavy." Ben panted attempting to lift his arms. As Ben did so, he looked down at them and saw how much they changed. "Sir! I'm HUGE!" Ben looked at Sir with his wide opal eyes and smiled big. "It looks like you became a human copy of me." Sir said as he looked at Ben up and down. "You feel okay other than being heavy?" Ben's body suddenly felt charged with energy and he suddenly sat up nearly colliding with Sir's head. "I feel amazing!" Ben nearly squealed as he looked his body over, flexing his arms and pecs. Ben watched as the muscles bulged and relaxed with each movement. "This is awesome!" Sir looked at Ben still concerned. "You hear any static in your head?" "No, it's all gone." Ben replied as his hands groped his arms tracing the bulging veins. Ben suddenly jumped out of the bed nearly knocking Sir over. "I have to see myself!"

This chapter is graphic in the sense of sexual activity. Sorry it's kinda short. There may be a little muscle growth in it. I hope you enjoy it. Part 2 -- Exploration -- Ben went back to sit on his bed, looking at Sir in awe as he took in the fact that he was talking to a real live alien who was somewhat close to a superhero in his opinion and was trapped here because he had used HIS DNA to enhance himself. "And my DNA helped you become this?" Ben asked. "Yes, it did." Sir responded back plainly. "Because of that, I owe you a debt of gratitude." "You owe me nothing, Sir. I am happy that my DNA has turned you into such a stud... err, mighty being for the good of your kind." Ben backtracked quickly but Sir's eyes widened a bit. "I know you use the term 'stud' when you refer to someone as appealing, especially in the sexual sense." Sir simply stated. Ben immediately turned red. "Uhm..." "Judging by your embarrassment I assume I am correct." Sir added. "Uhm..." Ben started to shake a bit. "I take that as a compliment since that is usually the intent of such a statement. Thank you." Sir said. Ben's anxiety deflating in a sigh of relief. It was then that the flood gates opened. "Do you know how really hot you look right now Sir?" Ben blurted out unabashedly. Now it was Sir's turn to jump back a bit in surprise but quickly recovered. "That is the second time you referred to me in a sexual context. I am appreciative of your positive review of me considering the circumstances I came from." Sir looked down at the floor for a brief period. Tears started to well up in his eyes. "I had friends, like you. I had a family and a life on my home planet like you. It's nothing like that now." Sir's voice suddenly took on a shaky crescendo of sorrow. "I am a giant monster to them!" Ben quickly got up and attempted to comfort the alien knowing that he is in the throes of another emotional fit. Ben also took the opportunity as a good excuse to touch Sir's massive muscled body again. "I'll be okay Sir, I think they'll come around soon enough after they have reviewed the good things you did." Ben soothed trying to say the right thing but feeling like he is gambling with his words. "You don't understand. The experiment changed my body so much to them that I became alien to them as well. My body in comparison was five times as tall as theirs and you know that I am many thousand times stronger than an entire army of them. My population reproduces asexually and by cloning. Cloning now more than ever since asexual reproduction results in many complications for the parent. Those complications are usually lethal." Sir divulged still on edge but calming down. Ben looked at the significant bulge at the alien's crotch. "And you have a cock and balls. Why is that a big deal?" "They had never seen them before. My colleagues were curious, but most found them disgusting, including the Elder Council." Sir was now calm but still looking morosely at the floor. "Then I had the urge." Ben's hands tightened against the muscled alien on the word "urge." "The urge?" Ben asked with a gulp. "Yes. What you would call masturbation." Sir said. Ben could see Sir's bulge begin to grow. "It was an amazing feeling. I touched it and sent waves up my torso and down my legs that I could never describe. It was an amazing feeling." Sir began, his head looking up and his hands slowly roaming his muscled body. "I felt my body, like I am now and felt power radiating from me, and my sex organ swelled as it is now." Ben looked down to see a significant bulge jutting out under the skimpy underwear like garment. Ben couldn't control himself any longer and began to run his hands down Sir's body tracing each massive muscle as he did. "My body was as big as their buildings, my arms were taller than my colleagues and possessed raw power thousands and thousands of times stronger than they could ever achieve." Sir continued looking up at the ceiling now. Sir began to rub his chest with one arm and flex the other into a mountainous peak of strength and power. Ben had reached Sir's abs and continued to slowly rub them up and down, breathing heavily. Ben looked down to see an enormous sex tool bulging up and outward under the fabric and it stretched thin pulling the waistband away from his chiseled stomach. "You were horny, Sir." Ben moaned as his hands continued to approach the alien's sex tool. "Yes, I was horny." Sir moaned with more lust than Ben and continued to escalate. Sir began to reach out to Ben almost by instinct and grope his body as well. "Do you trust me Sir?" Ben asked as he took his clothes off. His breath becoming heavy on the brink of the same sexual frenzy. "I am going to help you." "Yes, Ben. I trust you." Sir's body was slowly bucking the air. Ben reached down and gently cupped the massive alien balls. Sir suddenly threw his head back as his body went into a full body flex. Sir's muscles seeming to explode to twice thier original size. Ben moved his head down to lick the alien's giant bulge when the massive cock ripped free from it's confines on it's own, slapping the aliens torso with a loud thwack. The alien cock rested throbbing angrily against his chiseled abs almost reaching up to his heaving pecs. Sir moaned loudly, his cock drooling copious amounts of pre. Ben couldn't stand it any longer and attacked Sir's cock with his tongue which in turn caused the alien to arch back pushing his crotch to Ben's face harder. "OH! What is this? I feel sooooo...." Sir moaned even louder as he placed his hands on Ben's shoulders pushing him into his crotch more. Ben redoubled his efforts and continued to lick and suck before moving up and engulfing the massive alien cock head into his mouth. The heat of Ben's mouth increased Sir's frenzy. Sir bucked his hips uncontrollably against Ben's face. Ben kept up with little problem as he continued to grope the alien's balls. All of a sudden Sir arched back even further gripping Ben's head so hard it almost hurt as it was mashed against Sir. Sir's balls drew up dramatically and the throbbing shaft swelled. Ben knew it was going to be a massive load of cum. Sir screamed outside and inside Ben's head as his whole body seemed to flex harder. A torrent of alien cum rushed down Ben's throat. Each load was just as powerful as the next. Sir blew at least 20 volleys into Ben before coming down from his mind blowing climax. When Sir's grip finally loosened Ben pulled off and wiped his lips with his hand. Sir wobbled on his feet for a few steps before falling to the floor, his cock still spurting little amounts of cum on the way. "Sir! Are you okay?" Ben rushed over to the fallen alien, only to hear garbled words. Sir's body rose and fell dramatically with his heaving breaths. "Sir?" Sir turned his head to look up at Ben. A delirious smile crossed his face. Ben looked at the alien for a moment before breaking out into laughter. Sir lifted his head a bit and looked at Ben puzzled. Sir's action only caused Ben to laugh even harder. "I'm sorry Sir!" Ben breathed between laughs. "The look on your face..." Ben continued to laugh before making the delirious face back at Sir. "That's not what I looked like." Sir rebutted but starting to laugh a deep voiced chuckle himself. Ben made the face again before more laughter and Sir followed suit with another face. Ben laughter started to wain a bit as he got down on the floor and laid against the alien's solid heaving body. Sir looked back at Ben a little puzzled as to his action, but made no effort to resist. Ben turned his body to lay face up like Sir's, resting his head on the alien's near pillow sized arm. Both of them laid there looking at the ceiling, their heavy breaths lightened. It was when they were calmed down that Sir put his arm gently around Ben.

Here is the first part, The Extreme Makeover: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2699-the-extreme-makeovermy-best-friends-party/ Groaning as he feels the liquids flowing through him, the big brute continues to push all of his weight down on the defenseless man trying to conjure up the growth from within him to commence. His breathing gets shallower as he gets closer to losing consciousness. Deveraux can sense it starting as he pulls his cock out of the motionless man’s mouth and grunts a few times before speaking again. ‘Yeah come on man! I want to feel it come out of you. FUCKING GROW MAN! Make me fucking cum without touching myself, I love watching and feeling hot muscle as it expands. You can’t stop it, it has to happen now or you won’t survive.’ Loud crunching sounds start coming from beneath Deveraux’s ass as Joe’s broken legs begin to forge together from their carnage. He cries out in agony as his body starts to repair itself before igniting an incredible growth process. More popping sounds emanate from the bones in his broken arms. Deveraux reaches down to grip them holding him in place. His cock throbs as it lightly dribbles precum onto him again. He looks Joe in the eyes and tries to keep him from panicking. ‘Look at me runt…..just focus your attention on my incredible body and let yourself go. You can’t stop it now because it is already changing who you are. *can feel Joe’s body trying to expand but is noticing some kind of interference* Stop resisting…..you are prolonging it if you try to fight. Let that motherfucking beast out of that puny body. I can feel it trying to get out. *Joe’s legs shake violently* LET GO MAN! Your legs are desperately trying to free themselves from this prison.’ ‘NOOOO, OH GAWD……*stretch*……PLEASE…..*legs are reacting as it moves into his crotch* NO! NO! NO! *balls bounce and begin inflating* ACK!’ Joe can feel his ballsac stretching to its limits trying to contain his growing testicles. He moans longingly feeling them filling with cum by his overactive prostate. The giant sitting on top of him can sense a difference finally coming over the helpless man. He lightly rubs his dripping cock on Joe’s chin and slowly grinds on his crotch with his huge glutes. The sensation from this makes the small man’s cock start growing and arches directly at Deveraux’s hole. The giant feels the man’s pants tenting as the growing penis continues swelling and lengthening. ‘OHH YEAH! You want to fuck me little man? Give me all you got then.’ Joe’s quads, hams, and calves start to widen outwards making Deveraux growl waiting for them to explode through the fabric of his pants. He can feel the little man’s growing pole ripping the fabric in his underwear and pants before it goes sailing up inside him making him roar in delight as he tenses his muscles and glutes feeling it rubbing his insides. Joe moans deeply watching the giant’s chest and arms flex and strain as the veins pulse and drip with perspiration. ‘FUCK ME MAN! Become the gawd you were always meant to be. *can feel Joe’s stomach inflating* YES! FUCKING GROW FOR ME! *sees the buttons straining to hold on* RIP THAT MOTHERFUCKER OPEN! *three buttons go flying as his growing stomach emerges* OHH FUCKING YEAH!’ Joe thrusts unconsciously inside the giant unable to really feel anything in his legs anymore. Deveraux can feel the growing man’s legs getting ready to burst through as the seams begin slowly ripping. He howls in laughter seeing the sheer power starting to take over Joe’s body. Joe’s feet are tearing their way out of his shoes as his thickening calves and ankles destroy his socks. His chest heaves up and down as his pecs start inflating which catches the eye of his eager partner. ‘OH MY GAWD MAN! You are really going to set me off…..destroy that fucking shirt and I will shower your muscles with tons of muscle building protein.’ ‘I……can’t……breathe……uhhh……*feels his pecs stretching and pulling on his undershirt underneath his jacket* ahhh…..*his nipples are now visible through the fabric*……so…..much……pressure.’ Deveraux squirts a stream of precum on top of Joe’s jacket and under his chin and neck. He moans loudly feeling Joe’s legs finally emerge through his pants as well as his throbbing horse cock which quickly destroys his underwear and exposes his tennis ball-sized testicles. The man’s round stomach is now forming a huge set of misshapen abdominals which are now rubbing against the behemoth’s ballsac massaging them over and over again and setting the goliath on fire as he reaches down and feels their incredible power against his fingers. The growing man’s undershirt rips finally as loud shredding noises echo throughout the elevator shaft. Joe’s shoulders, traps, and arms begin ripping their way through the fabric as Deveraux grunts loudly feeling the cum start to race into his cock. He sprays both emerging pectorals with his jizz as he looks Joseph directly in the eyes and can see the change in his demeanor. Instead of fear now, he is embracing the growth whole-heartedly as he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out to swallow the jets of cum as they go down his throat. The load accelerates his growth as his clothing is no match for the bloated muscles now taking him over. He grunts feeling his back and lats busting numerous seams as they quickly break free. His pecs swell so fast that they make loud stretching noises. He moans loudly as his nipples double in size and tighten as the air hits them. His shoulders and traps continue growing as his arms begin looking like giant tree trunks. The roadmap of veins covers both arms and sit on top of what could be described as two cantaloupes. Deveraux barely finishes cumming before he realizes that he is going to be dwarfed by the giant growing beneath him. His asshole is being stretched much wider by the python growing inside him which prompts him to try to get off of it. ‘OH FUCK! *trying to pull the giant pole out* PLEASE MAN……*feels the huge cock spilling inside him*……WHAT THE……*feels himself growing again*……OHHH FUCKKK YEAHHHH! *voice deepens as he grows with Joe*’ The weight of the two behemoths is becoming unbearable for the elevator as it creaks under them. They both start laughing hysterically as they continue fucking. At nearly a half-ton, the two men can’t seem to stop having sex as they change positions and fuck each other interchangeably growing bigger than they were before. Once they get to 1500 pounds combined, the elevator falls and hits the ground sending the two engorged giants into the steel floor. Their sheer size does little damage to themselves as they lay there still interlocked and continue to laugh in their deep manly voices. After a few minutes longer, they stop fucking and look at each other. Deveraux makes a proposition to Joseph. ‘HEY! YOU KNOW WHAT WE SHOULD DO? WE SHOULD KNOCK THIS BUILDING DOWN JUST TO SEE IF WE CAN BIG FUCKER!’ Noticing that they have already caused cracks in the foundation of the building, Deveraux manages to crawl over to the side of the shaft and get up onto his feet again. However when he puts his arm on the the wall, it starts to buckle and causes debris to fall from the ceiling which of course makes Joseph laugh as it hits his enormous buddy in the head. Joe picks himself up by placing his arms over the sides of the crater they created from the fall and lifts himself up on to his feet. The ground nearly swallows him up as he does so. He then turns to stare down his equally imposing partner and starts charging at him which barely gives Deveraux time to counter. Joe jumps in the air as the two behemoths go flying through the wall and out a pair of glass windows. They land in the nearby parking lot and destroy a large chunk of the concrete as another crater forms. The aftershocks from this are rolling up the building which prompts several windows to crack and shatter. The two hulks can see that their bulk is causing this kind of destruction which immediately gets a rise out of Deveraux whose cock is now standing completely up now. He moans watching shards of glass cascade from the multiple-storied skyscraper on to the ground in front of him. He turns to Joe and slaps his cock on his side which makes the other giant grab it and stroke it roughly. The sensation sends him into a fury which naturally leads to more jizz flying out of his cockhead. The white flood covers Joe’s chest and drips down into the asphalt. Deveraux points his massive fingers in the direction of the structure. ‘OHH FUCK YEAH MAN, WHY DON’T YOU GO BACK OVER THERE AND FINISH WHAT WE STARTED. THEN YOU WILL REALLY OPEN THE FLOODGATES IN MY COCK!’ Joe smiles and starts bouncing around trying to get enough momentum to go barreling through the front entrance of the sports company; the shockwaves cause more cracks to form on the sides of the building. Deveraux’s deep gravelly voice rumbles as he pinches his nipples and rubs his chest anticipating the destruction that is about to happen. He can hear the giant muscle gawd inside knocking down beams as sections of the building start to crumble. The sight of this sends the massive stud into a wave of ecstasy as he shoots several more ropes of cum into the air. He watches another part of the building collapse before Joe comes rushing out the front entrance again waddling from side to side. Once he clears it, the rest of the building collapses leaving nothing behind but a giant mountain of steel, concrete, and wood. Joe returns to where Deveraux is standing with his immense tool and quickly latches his mouth around it pumping and sucking it with all of his might. This of course prompts another wave of cum to go flying all over Joe’s immense frame and inside him. The huge man surges in size once again surpassing a half-ton himself and rising quickly. He grabs Deveraux by the arm and immediately places the massive hulk’s mouth on his own immense pole. He looks down at him and smiles before saying, ‘let’s never stop growing man!’

‘Will you stop trying to molest me Justin, I wish I never told you about that story now.’ The curious 20-year-old college student has been hitting on his older 22-year-old roommate for several months. Braxton mentioned to Justin one night while the two guys were in their bedroom after having a few drinks that he was visited by an older man the night he turned 18. He was a freshman in college and didn’t really know anyone that went there. The man was dressed incredibly well in a nicely tailored suit from top to bottom. At the time, Braxton’s roommate was visiting family so he wasn’t around which left the young student all alone. The man showed up at the front steps of the dormitory that Braxton was staying in. It so happened that the teenager was outside standing and talking on his phone. When he finished his phone call, he turned to go back inside but not before this man stops him. ‘Hello there Braxton mind if I have a few words with you.’ With a puzzled look on his face, the 18-year-old stares at the man and wonders how the hell he would know his name. ‘Uhhh, I don’t know who you are and I don’t want to buy what you are trying to sell to me so…..*stops to think*…..how did you know my name?’ The man smiles and proceeds to walk towards him up the stairs into the front lobby. Braxton starts to move backwards inside before he is about to scream. The man grabs his arm and holds him in place. The scared teenager freezes as the man puts his arms around Braxton’s back. ‘Shhh, I’m not here to hurt you buddy, you are ready to graduate to the next chapter in your life. You obviously don’t remember anything about me since you are so surprised to see me. Unfortunately, restraining you right now is the only thing I can do to get your attention.’ Braxton tries to scream but nothing comes from his voicebox. He grabs it with both hands and looks around to see if anyone notices. There isn’t a soul there probably because it is after midnight now. The man takes him over to one of the chairs sitting on the balcony beside the entrance to the dorm and tells him to sit down. The man pulls up another chair and sits in front of Braxton. He takes a few deep breaths and looks the young man in the eyes. ‘Okay…..when you were 12 Braxton, you were in an accident. As you lay dying in that hospital bed, your mind and soul took a journey to a place not many have ever been to before. That plane of existence is where I reside. You were not sure why you had the feelings you did back then since you were on the verge of becoming a teenager. Your soul latched on to me Braxton and wanted to learn what to do next which I was obliged to do. You were unaware that your body was healing with my assistance.’ ‘That wasn’t the only thing I was helping you with either. *clasps his hands in Braxton’s* Your cock and balls for the first time that day started to function in a more mature fashion. You had your first orgasm in that hospital bed and it was amazing.’ Braxton rips his hands away from the man and jumps up. He rushes towards the front lobby doors and turns around. ‘I don’t fucking know what you are talking about man, I don’t ever want to remember that day ever again…..’ The man stops him midway through his thought. ‘Braxton…..you know who I am because you made me look the way you always wanted your fantasy man to look like. You always wanted to be with an older man around your dad’s age because you have talked about it every night before you go to bed. Even now at this school, you mention me and dream about me.’ The teenager goes inside and down the hall before he stops by one of the night auditors. ‘Is everything alright Braxton? You seem flustered and a bit…..sweaty.’ He turns and notices that the man is right behind him, but the auditor doesn’t see him. Braxton thinks for a moment and speaks. ‘I just went on a run, I’m alright.’ ‘Okay, remember that you must be in before midnight though during the week.’ The auditor turns and walks back to the front desk. Braxton gets into the nearby elevator as the man follows him inside. ‘He doesn’t see you. Who are you?’ *reaches to feel the man’s thick muscular chest which strains against his satin dress shirt* The man reaches over to push the stop button on the elevator and pulls Braxton in to him. He grabs the teen’s hands and rubs them up and down his chest as he stares into his eyes. The teen is in awe of the man’s incredible muscles that he feels underneath the fabric. The man’s groomed black fur on his face and neck is exactly what he envisioned in the dreams he has had since he was 12. ‘You know who I am Braxton. I’m your Matt that you have formed in your mind, well at least physically. I can also sense something else going on in your mind.’ Matt lets out a few growls as Braxton hears a few rips coming from the man’s body. His body appears to be growing a little bit as his shirt splits down the middle of his back along with his suit jacket. His thick hairy pecs shred the front of the shirt slightly as they are now visible. The teenager lets out a few moans. He reaches in to feel the hairy swollen muscles that feel soft to the touch. ‘Hold on there buddy, look down. GRRR!’ *winks* Matt’s quads swell up to the point that his suit pants look painted on. The seams rip enough to where the thick hairy slabs jut out the sides. The surprised teen leans down to run his hands along each bump and curve. He lightly moans feeling the thick forest of hair sitting on top of both tree trunks. While he is down there, Braxton feels a lot of heat radiating from the center of Matt’s pants. The big man grunts as his crotch grows thicker and longer. The young teen can’t seem to take his eyes off of it hearing noises coming from within. ‘Go ahead buddy, put your hand up to it, you are compelling me to grow.’ Braxton runs his hands along the crease of Matt’s shaft. The huge pole pulses against his hand as he finally gives in to it a little to lay his head against it. The big man reaches down to pet the teen’s head and hair before telling him to look up. ‘You are the reason I am like this Braxton. My body is what your mind created and is creating as we are in here right now. I know my muscles are turning you on greatly as I sense it in you. There is a part of you that was longing for this day to come. Now that I am here, it is time for you to take the next step and enter into the next stage of your life Braxton.’ The dazed teen slowly moves Matt’s cock around before he unzips his pants and swallows the huge pole down his throat. He sucks on it lovingly making the big man groan deeply. Braxton looks up and smiles as he starts to feel the need for Matt to grow again. More popping comes from the big man’s body as his pants completely shred and fall down to the ground. His immense chest finishes off the rest of his dress shirt as he yanks it off and throws it to the other side of the elevator. He growls and does a most muscular for Braxton as his jacket nearly disintegrates under the incredible mass forming on his body. This makes the young man moan even louder as he tastes a river of precum flowing down into his belly. ‘RAWR! Yeah buddy, you are making me want to rage Braxton. If you continue on this path, I won’t be able to hold back. I enjoy it because you enjoy it of course.’ The young student grabs Matt’s immense ass and snaps the waistband off freeing up the last remaining fabric from his body. His socks and dress shoes explode under the pressure of his growing feet. Braxton moans as he continues to gulp at the big man’s powerful rod as it lengthens and slides further down inside the teen’s throat. Matt reaches his incredibly massive arms out to brace himself against the elevator walls which are now creaking. ‘Mmmmm buddy…..this is about to get really dangerous though Braxton. Stay close to me.’ Matt’s huge frame is now as wide as the elevator now as his head starts to go through the ceiling. Debris begins falling down as the growing man laughs destroying the walls and lights which explode against his hairy stone skin. Braxton sucks even harder and faster tasting the ooze draining inside him as Matt roars in delight. He raises his massive left arm up to grab the cables above his head while gripping Braxton in his right arm. He lifts the young man up with him who still has his mouth locked on to the huge pole residing in his throat. ‘It feels absolutely incredible Braxton. Keep sucking buddy while I get both of us to safety up at the top of this dorm.’ The giant continues climbing up the cables with one arm as he feels his cock and balls getting closer to the edge. They are now swelling to the point that they are turning a purplish-red color. Matt stops moving up the cable to compose himself for a few seconds making Braxton come up for air as the giant’s huge cock bounces furiously spraying several jets of precum down inside the elevator car below them. The huge stud flexes his entire body enhancing the feeling from within while growling in delight. ‘Make me cum Braxton you really do have quite a wild streak from within your mind. It will be the biggest load you have ever seen in your life.’ Holding on to Matt’s waist as much as possible, the student strokes the giant’s cock in a strong even fashion knowing that the volcano will erupt at any time. The monster’s massive legs and quads move with the rhythm as they thrust faster with each stroke. Matt starts to climb upwards again feeling the tension from inside his balls building up again as his testicles cannot grow anymore otherwise they will rip through the sack. ‘SHIT! OHHHH FUCK BRAXTON, look out. I am going to coat this whole place.’ Braxton moves his head as Matt’s piss slit stretches to its limits before launching a giant wave of cum fifty feet into the air before it lands onto the nearby tunnel wall. The giant continues swiveling his lower body still able to hold on to the cable as his body pours sweat down on to the lower elevator car. Yet another giant stream of cum goes flying from Matt’s huge cock and finds its way down at the bottom of the tunnel. Braxton now moves back into the huge pole’s path and awaits the third jet as he opens his mouth. Matt roars in laughter still thrusting his quads in the eager young man’s face. ‘You want this kind of power too don’t you buddy…..yeah I know you do…..I have always known that you wanted this. Well you will get your wish Braxton, open wide little man!’ The student sticks his tongue out as another huge jet of cum hits him in the face and coats his shirt and pants. He locks his mouth on top of the huge pole and chokes as the cum continues to shoot out of the giant’s cock and down Braxton’s chest and lower body. Matt smiles at him and can feel the young man gulping down tons of cum craving what he has always dreamed about. The big man waits until all of the cum has left his body before he starts to climb again. Braxton moans caressing his lover’s immense ass and licks the sides of Matt’s cock getting every drop he might have missed. The student’s stomach is so swollen that it pushes his shirt all the way up above it. He literally looks pregnant. Matt laughs again as he feels the round protrusion up against his legs. ‘I think you have had enough to drink Braxton. Let’s get out of here before something else happens.’ After a couple more minutes, they finally reach the top. Matt busts through the top by putting his fist through the steel and concrete. He finds the roof and looks down at Braxton. ‘You trust me right Braxton?’ He then lifts them both up onto the roof and falls over to rest. Braxton lets go of his waist and does the same thing. After calming down, the giant gets up and goes to stand over his young lover. The student’s stomach remains bloated from the massive amount of cum he consumed. Matt helps him up so he can talk to him. ‘Well, what are you waiting for Braxton? *waves his arms* You consumed enough muscle building protein to probably take this building down.’ Braxton wonders what he is supposed to do. Matt looks him straight in the eyes and says to just concentrate his energy on him. The student’s breathing increases as his body begins to react. His stomach slowly empties as his legs and feet start growing. His jeans split immediately as his shoes explode under the sheer mass that is being added. His muscles make quick work of his shirt as his back cracks several times trying to accommodate the incredible amount of muscle that keeps piling on top of their selves. The young teenager that was there just a minute before is completely gone now as Braxton matures right in front of Matt’s eyes. The big young stud roars in ecstasy as he feels completely reborn. He flexes his massively round muscles trying to show off in front of Matt who just laughs. He flexes his muscles back at Braxton as they both grunt at each other. The roof creaks under their feet as they take a few huge steps around. Matt eventually gets behind his young lover and wraps his arms around him. He then throws Braxton to the ground and starts wrestling him. They grunt and groan rubbing their slick hairy muscled bodies together until they eventually just decide to stop. After a few minutes, Matt moves down to his partner’s lower body and starts to toy with Braxton’s thick meaty cock. ‘You worked me over really well Braxton, now it is my turn buddy.’ After being edged by Matt several times the young behemoth finally launches his cum volcano into the air as it floats over the side of the building and coats several of the dorm student’s cars. Braxton quickly moves himself to the edge of the building and shoots several more jets of cum hitting nearby streets and sidewalks. They both laugh hysterically until Braxton finishes cumming. Matt puts his arm around his young lover and kisses his lips. They embrace each other and moan as they calm down. ‘Well that’s it buddy. I’ve done all I can do for you at this point, but I will be back soon don’t you worry.’ Matt vanishes a few seconds later. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ ‘Are you fucking serious Braxton? I mean…..I knew that you nearly died and all but this Matt guy just sounds like some kind of fantasy.’ ‘And I would agree with that assessment Justin, but he is very real. He helped me learn how to control it after that night. It wasn’t the only time we were together either.’ Justin tries to rub his roommate’s crotch again which makes Braxton quite irritable. ‘DAMNIT JUSTIN! I am not going to grow for you. I am not Bruce Banner it doesn’t work that way.’ ‘So what triggers it then?’ Braxton knows what he is trying to do and doesn’t go for it. ‘HA! nice try there genius, but no clues.’ Justin finally gets up from Braxton’s bed and moves over to the bathroom to strip naked. His 10” cock is wet with precum which prompts the college student to rub it up and down his shaft to make it shiny. Braxton stares intently at it and is dumbfounded as to why he never saw Justin’s huge cock before. ‘Uhh Justin, I had no idea that you were so…..wow endowed.’ He can start to feel himself heating up quickly too. Before he can even try to control himself, his body starts to react. Justin can see the discomfort he is in and walks back over to him. He grins at Braxton and bounces his cock at him. ‘So you want this do you man? This is going to be fucking awesome.’ Once he stands directly in front of Braxton’s face, he slaps his cock on his roommate’s face and chest and watches in amazement as his gifted older roommate’s growing muscles rip, shred, and tear their way through his clothes and continue growing to unimaginable heights. Never in his wildest dreams did Justin think that this improbable story was true, but now he knows that Braxton’s near-death experience brought with it a powerful gift. In case you want to read another installment in the series: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3467-the-other-side-of-the-mirror/

Part 1-The Sexual Chemistry is here: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2716-the-construction-projectthe-sexual-chemistrywhos-worshipping-who/ The Construction Project sequel: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/4583-constructing-more-projects-and-building-bigger-men-muscle-genie/?hl=%2Bconstructing+%2Bmore+%2Bprojects Who's Worshipping Who? sequel: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/4503-to-worship-or-not-to-worship-another-admirer-enters-muscle-genie/?hl=worship The gloriously hairy Iraqi stud’s massive muscles are eventually too much for his white costar’s own as he makes Dallas submit to him after several minutes of rolling around on the ransacked set. They continue to ignore everything their director Francesco says as he just sits there with a bewildered look on his face. He doesn’t seem all that interested in seeing the two muscle studs doing wrestling moves or trying to overpower each other in any way. ‘Guys…..come on. It was hot at first, but you both are now way too large to market for our audience. I was hoping that putting you two together, my two biggest stars, could result in the biggest selling video ever, but now I realize that you could both model for COLT and not for my company.’ The two huge studs stop what they are doing and sit up to look straight at him. Dallas decides to get up and waddles over to the director to stand in front of him breathing heavily and dripping with sweat. He has a big smile on his face and as he bounces his pecs. ‘And what is wrong with making a hot growth video with some amazing sex thrown in Fran? I think you have always had a thing for both of us otherwise you wouldn’t have waited until now to put us in the same scene together. Besides, you could become a star yourself Mr. director. That pooch of yours could look really hot with some big thick slabs of beef attached to it don’t you think?’ *reaches in to rub Francesco’s belly lightly making the director lean back a little* The director seems a bit embarrassed but also a tad bit aroused at the same time. He pushes Dallas’s big burly hand away and tries to get up, but the white porn star won’t let him. Abdul stands up from where he is sitting and rubs down his incredibly thick hairy muscled body for a few seconds before walking over beside Francesco to rub his huge throbbing cock against the director’s face. The stunned man falls back in his chair and lands on the ground as it breaks. The two big studs follow him down and start rubbing him in the crotch and chest making him moan very lightly. Dallas then jumps back up to turn the camera around and hits the record button on it. He returns down with the other two men and rubs his cock up against Francesco’s face and slaps Abdul’s cock as well. The director can’t resist any longer as he grabs both rods and starts licking them both tasting the sweet precum oozing out both cockheads. The two behemoths growl and start making out with each other while Francesco shoves his tongue down inside the arab’s foreskin, chewing it slowly and moaning deeply. Abdul’s incredibly thick furry body is something the director always loved, but never acted on it before because he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the way the man acted around him. Feeling like he is being neglected, Dallas shoves his cock in the side of Francesco’s mouth and starts humping it, gliding it in and out with a slow and steady rhythm. The director gags as Abdul follows suit by shoving his thick hairy pole down inside Francesco’s mouth as they both fuck his throat at the same time making him have to drool huge strings of spit. The juices drip down both cocks making them both grunt loudly. Francesco rubs it up and down both shafts at the same time to get them nice and lubed since he knows that both men don’t want him to stop sucking as they hump his mouth. He watches intently as both ballsacs begin swelling up in front of his face and changing to a blue color. He moans loudly knowing that he will get a cum bath within a short amount of time. He pulls both rods out to run his tongue along their slits and can taste some of their pre starting to change over to cum. He stops sucking them interchangeably long enough for them both to groan as their poles start pumping their seed all over Francesco’s face and head. The thick gooey wads paint his face in white as he gasps for air feeling the seed river trying to seep its way inside him. The huge studs shove their cocks back inside his mouth and continue dumping their loads down his throat until they are completely depleted. When they finally pull out of him, he chokes several times losing some of it on the floor before trying to get up from the ground to catch his breath. He is finding it very difficult to do so however as Abdul reaches down to pick him up and carry him over to the ravaged set. Dallas spins the camera around still recording so he can join them. Abdul puts him down to grab some sheets that are lying to the side still in decent condition even after the two studs destroyed the bed. He finds an empty area and lays them on the ground so he can get down on the floor. ‘Dallas, go make sure the camera is positioned on us. *gets down on the sheet and looks up at Francesco* Come down here Fran and worship me man so I can fucking watch you transform into one of us. You won’t have to be sitting in a chair anymore after this film, I guarantee it.’ Dallas rushes over and points the camera at them before going back to join the other two. He starts to take Francesco’s shoes off, but Abdul motions for him to stop. The director immediately starts to bury his head into Abdul’s chest and moans deeply as he loses himself in the hot arab’s musk and masculinity. The hairy stallion looks over at Dallas and smiles. The white stud isn’t quite sure why he isn’t allowed to take anything off Francesco, but is willing to just let it be since there must be a reason. It isn’t long before the two behemoths can hear the director wincing. His body starts sweating profusely underneath his clothes which prompts the two men to growl knowing it is close to happening. Francesco stops licking Abdul’s body to look up at him in anguish. The big man grins. ‘RAWR FRAN! Fucking blow up for us man! You have double the power inside you so you should absolutely explode.’ The director is unable to utter a word as he feels himself starting to grow. His body starts flexing immediately putting a lot of stress on his clothes. His shirt shreds down his back getting the attention of both behemoths as they can see the muscles doubling up on each other. Within seconds, his entire outfit is being obliterated by mounds of sheer steel stretching and pulling his body bigger and wider than ever before. Francesco is getting noticeably more dominant with each additional inch of muscle being added. He goes into gawd mode roaring with excitement feeling himself changing into a new man. *still growing* ‘MORE! MORE! FUCKKK!’ *passes 400 pounds* Both Abdul and Dallas grab a hold of his new 16” dong and starts drinking the honey that is pouring out of it. The giant though scurries backwards away from them to stop them from trying to swallow any more of it. He manages to get up onto his feet before they both try to tackle him back down. He manages to push them away from him as he finishes his growth cycle. He is now trying to escape from them to prevent the possibility of them outgrowing him. ‘NOOO! *voice is noticeably deeper* You are both trying to get the upper-hand on me like before. Stay the fuck away from me! I swear I will hurt both of you and I don’t want to do that because…..you are right Abdul, I like you a lot, but this fucking body *rubs his chest as he continues to move backwards*, I have to stay bigger than you.’ He continues to leak his precum all over the ground as he finds a wall in behind the rubble from the set. Abdul tries to grab a hold of his legs and pull him down but gets kicked in the process. Dallas tries to follow in behind and shoves a hand up inside the hole of the hulking brute. Francesco agonizes as he starts punching the wall and cracking it until pieces start falling all around him. Dallas tries to get underneath his cock to catch the honey flowing, but gets a warning. ‘AHHHH please don’t Dallas…..I will pound you if you keep trying to make me cum.’ Francesco’s rage grows deeper as he pounds the wall in until it finally gives way and hits the white giant on the back as it starts crashing to the ground. Dallas accidentally pulls his hand out of the director’s anus and watches in disgust as the behemoth starts to waddle away from him through the wall opening. He can’t seem to get up from where he is now sitting and leans up against a pile of rubble. Abdul though runs past him and jumps through the opening to chase after the hulk. He starts yelling at him to get his attention. ‘HEY FRAN! I’M COMING TO GET YOU BIG STUD! YOU MIGHT BE BIGGER, BUT I CAN DEFINITELY OUTRUN YOU!’ The thick arab picks up speed as he closes the gap on the director down a nearby alley in the middle of the city. He can see Francesco stop to catch his breath and makes his move placing all of his power into his immense legs. Before the giant hulk can start running again, Abdul grabs him around the waist and pulls him down to the ground. Both men are sweating buckets practically as they lay there exhausted. Abdul gets on top of him and laughs as he punches the hulk’s chest in a dominant manner . ‘I told you…..*pants*……I would catch you……*pants*……now fuck me like you have always wanted to Fran. No resistance…..*pants*……no qualms…..*pants*…..I know you want to fill me up badly. You say you don’t want me to grow again…..*pants*……but I fucking know otherwise. *winks*’ He grabs the director’s massive dick and slowly slides it inside his hole. He hops on it a few times as it gets it further inside before he begins humping the hulk and punching him in the chest again like he was doing. With their insatiable desire not dissipating anytime soon, the process could continue indefinitely.

Have you read THE COMPOUND?....you will find into old archive page 179...it's aa amazing story, but never have a ending or a continue...only 2 cap......any one like to continue? PART 1 http://archive.muscle-growth.org/threads/20646-p1.html PART 2 http://archive.muscle-growth.org/threads/20665-p1.html

(First time posting here, I know there's mistakes and i'm looking for feedback as well. Let me know and enjoy.) Lord Asher, Part 1: Moving in. I sit in the back of our pick up truck driving down an empty country road. My little brother and father are trying to isolate me again, after all the trouble I caused in the city. Both of them are hoping that a small town life will help me calm down. I've been known to cause trouble where I go, this place won't be any different. Dad knocks on the glass of the truck, drawing my attention, he's still scared of me, I can sense it. “You doing alright back there Asher?” He shouts. I hunch my shoulders and pretend not to hear him. He keeps knocking until I decide to answer him. “I'm fine dammit.” I shout back. I can feel my little brothers eyes drilling into the back of my hoodie. I slam my elbow into the glass by his face, making him yelp as he turns back around. I smirk at this, I can't feed off my brothers fear of me, not without making him submit first, and my rotten father has never given me the chance to, being home schooled has left little options for me. I should explain, I'm a demon, born and bred from my mother, who's off Satan knows where. Left to my shitty human father, he's the only one who can see what I am and question it. My horns almost hidden by my shaggy hair and my tail, anyone else I just hypnotize, like my whiny little brother. He's fully human, can't stand him either. The truck finally starts slowing, rural area; light fog all the way up in Maine, a fishing town they said it was, I didn't care too much. The place looked shitty though, all the houses looked like shit, all the same beige color. We even passed three churches on our way, I flipped off each one until we finally stopped outside our new house, same color as every other, fucking beige. My brother pounds on the side of the truck, “Yo freak, you gonna come pick out your room or what?” My father comes around, opening the back of the truck, his eyes lock with my as I walk down, jumping off the end. “Asher, think you can behave around here?” he asks, I roll my eyes and shove him to the side. I'm only 18 and I stand half a foot taller then him at 6'7 in height. You couldn't tell from the hoodie hiding my body, but I'm pretty strong as well, having loaded the furniture into the truck mostly by myself. I'll be the one getting most of it out as well. “Please Asher, just try to behave?” He asks, practically begging me as I lift the arm chair out of the back. I laugh at him with a deep chuckle. “You're so pathetic.” I say, carrying the chair into the house. After a few more trips carrying things out of the truck, Father gets a phone call, “Asher, the truck carrying everything else broke down about an hour back, I gotta go get it, come on.” he says. I fold my arms over my chest, holding back a smirk. “Why don't you go get it yourself? I'll finish unpacking here. No sense in me stopping right?” He hesitates, “you'll leave your brother alone?” he asks, already slowly heading for the door. “Yeah, I promise, you asked me to behave right?” I smile at him. “Alright, Fine.” he says, not wanting to wait any longer. “Just go pick out your room and go back to work, before your brother claims all the rooms.” he says. He shuts the front door and with that he's gone. I stand there, waiting until I hear the truck start and drive away. Once it's gone I burst into a devilish smile, my pointed teeth just itching for some primal human lust. “Hey bro where are you?” I shout out, dropping my voice as I head upstairs. “Time for me to have some fun.” I laugh. Part 2: Growing to Like my Brother I thud up the creaky stairs in our new house, letting my tail scrape against the wall as I smirk. This should be good, Father finally screwed up and trusted me so now I'll take full advantage of it. “Where are you Jake?” I shout, looking for my brother. “Over here dipshit!” he shouts back. I duck into the room, leaning on the door frame as it creaks, the room has 3 windows, tall ceilings, and is already filled with boxers of his stuff. He's laying on his bed, blasting music from his headphones as he stares at me. “Hey Jake,” I smile down at him. “Nice room you picked. I was just wondering, how tall are you again?” I walk across the room, kicking his boxes to the side with my size 17 shoes. “I dunno, like 6'2. Why you asking, did you wanna rub it in my face that my little brother is taller then me?” he scoffs. “No no, not at all.” I smirk. “I just wanted to take this room as my own from my 22 year old college drop out of a brother. It's mine now bro.” I chuckle, looming over you. I place my huge boot in the middle of your chest. You struggle against my foot as I press down harder, your mattress springs creaking from the force I'm applying to your chest. “Fuck you, Asher!” He screams, I can hear what I think is a rib cracking under my boot. “The room is yours, just get off me. Please!” he whimpers. I scoff, god he's pathetic I lift my boot, watching him lay there grabbing his chest in pain. I smile, kneeling down on his mattress as I grab his arms, pinning him down “Say you submit to me, Jake.” His eyes dart to my hands keeping him pinned, the veins covering my hands make his eyes go wide as he manages to stutter a response. “D-dad told me to never say that to you...” he whines. At this I burst out into a roaring laughter. “Dad isn't here right now, you'll say you submit to me or I'll make you regret it.” I Grin, I drag my tongue along his neck, teasing him as I chuckle, I think he's about to pee himself. “Alright... I submit to you...” he said. The moment he said that I sat up, smirking down at him as I tilted my head back in a low moan, I could feel it.. his free will belonged to me now.. and I was going to take him for everything. I moved back off him, tossing my hoodie to the side. “Strip.” I commanded him, and like that he leaned up, stripping his shirt off. The giant imprint of my boot left on his chest. He peeled off his jeans and laid there on his bed, his face started turning red as he started to blush. Even when hypnotized he was still a pathetic little fuck. I flexed my arm over him, “you like this don't you, Jake?” I smiled as his head nodded. “well I fucking love it, and want more. Do you want to give me more you pathetic excuse for a brother?” He nodded again, and that was all I needed, I pulled down my pants and boxers, showing off a massive 10 inch cock and thick. “Worship me then runt.” I practically growled at him. I watched as he hurried across the bed, grabbing my cock with both his hands as he started rubbing it vigorously. “oh Asher... you're so huge! I can't wait for you to grow even bigger. Just look at how huge you are alre-” he said as I shoved his face onto my stiffening cock. As he licked and sucked my swelling rod I could feel my body finally inching bigger as well. My feet stretched bigger, pushing my toes against my boots as my legs grew next, I flexed my legs under me as I lifted up a couple inches. My body growing more cut against my jeans, my muscled ass swelling thicker and harder. My shirt didn't even fit anymore, it stretched out over my torso, no longer covering my abs as I was a good few inches taller now. My chest pulled the fabric tight as I flexed my pecs. Throughout all this my Demonic features improved as well, my tail grew thicker around the base and slightly longer, and I could feel my horns inching longer as well. I flashed a wicked smile down at you stared up like a puppy sucking my cock. “Good worship, Jake. What do you think of my body now?” I asked, stretching my arms towards the ceiling, snickering. I brought my arms down with a flex, tearing the shirt down my chest. “You're amazing Asher, you should have made me do this forever ago! Just imagine if you could get bigger!” he said, his unabashed praise made my body throb slightly in size. I grabbed his shoulders, squeezing him as he winched. “Jake, I'm going to take everything from you.” I said, slightly intoxicated off the growth. I shoved his face back on my massive rod, having him suck. As he did I started to expand again, and Jake started to shrink as I stole his size. My cock swelling in his mouth as he grew smaller and smaller until he was only 4 feet tall, my massive rod was literately choking him as he started pounding on my muscled thighs in a desperate attempt to save his life. The results of my growth were far more impressive; The seams of my jeans finally started splitting, allowing the monster thighs to show. My massive boots did no better as my feet pushed out the tops of the shoes. I kicked them off, watching the shredded boots land next to Jake. I pushed him off my cock. kneeling on his now deformed bed. Snickering as I realized he now has to reach up for my cock! Guessing based on his size I had to be close to 9 feet tall now. “Oooh Jake,” I moaned as I rubbed my newly muscled body. “Imagine if I had more people to worship me! I'd be a God!” I roared, my tail flicking out, lashing him across his face, leaving a gash. I laughed at this, smirking with my new sharper teeth. “Or Demon...” I pondered. Outside I heard a truck pull up, the horn honk as Jake flushed white on the bed before me. “D-dads home! What are we going to do!” I stood with a smirk, my new form naked on top with a pair of shredded jeans for my bottom. My larger horns poked against the ceiling, still growing slightly from Jake's continued worship. “Come slave, I think it's time we show you're shitty excuse for a father who's really in charge here.” I smirk, breaking the door frame apart as I headed downstairs to greet father. Part 3: Owning my Brother I bend over slightly, trying to fit down the stairs. My massive feet too big to fit on the steps. I can't help but chuckle as my feet crack the old wood under them, I notice my toenails have grown to a point, even my fingernails have grown sharper. So this is what power feels like. I laugh, shoving my feet through several steps at once to get down to the first floor. I hear my slave of a brother whimpering at the top of the steps. “Be quite slave, and get down here, now.” I command him, my tail lashing wildly as I wait for our father to walk in. The second he does his face is one of absolute terror. “Asher... What the hell! You promised to behave. What have you done to Jake? Jake?!” he called out, his jaw dropping as he saw Jake climbing down the side of the broken stairs behind me. I thud across the floor towards him, pulling him forward and slamming the door, making sure it won't open until I want it to. “You we're stupid to think I wouldn't take advantage of this.” I sneered, picking him up by the throat. “I think you'll find Jake more behaved from before. Jake, come here!” I ordered him. Watching him stumble over to me. “Kiss my feet, slave.” Within seconds he was on all fours, lapping his tongue across my feet. I laugh, kicking him onto his back. As I shove my foot on his body. I can feel his worship feeding me, my foot surging bigger on his chest. My sharpened nails scrape his chest, drawing blood. My demonic features grow the most, all with my father struggling helplessly in my hand, wrapping tighter around his neck. I tilt my head back with a roar, my tail growing almost double in length, growing twice as thick, landing on the floor with a thud behind me. I let out an egotistical laugh, the intense pleasure of the growth making my cock grow hard again. My horns thicken as well, growing longer and pressing back into the ceiling. I hit 11 feet tall before I stop growing, my slave whimpering again as I lift my foot off him. My father almost knocked out in my grip. I wrap my now thicker tail around his torso, releasing my grip as I hold him. “I should thank you dad, I wouldn't have grown if you weren’t so stupid. Shame I can't absorb you, you're still useless in the end.” I laughed at him. “Asher, you need to stop, this power of yours is building off worship, the more people that worship you the bigger you'll become!” he squirmed, trying to pull my tail off him as I held tighter. I stomped over to the basement door, opening it and tossing him down the stairs. “You'll stay down here, in case I need you again.” I smirked. With my giant foot I gave the crappy stairs a shove, watching them crumble as I shut the door on my screaming father. I turned my attention back to Jake, “Go get dressed slave, you're going to get me some new clothes and food.” I commanded as he tried to climb back up the stairs to his room. I walked over to the chair I had carried in when we first got here, now comically small compared to me, just like most of the house. I sat down, breaking the legs instantly as my ass filled the chair. I used my tail to slice off what remained of my pants, my throbbing cock breaking free as I stroked myself off. I licked my lips as I sat there stroking my massive 16 inch long cock. I could feel the worship of my brother. The fear from my father feeding me. I let out a primal roar as my cock exploded. I felt the fear spike down my back from the neighboring houses... I knew from that moment, I was going to outgrow the world. Part 4: Power Spike I let out loud roar, smirking in satisfaction of how deep my voice was becoming. I had sent Jake out to the mall for everything I needed a few hours ago. To keep myself occupied I started roaring every now and then, each one deeper then the last, and each time I could feel the fear of more and more people in the surrounding neighborhood; the flimsy walls of this place felt like they would come down at any moment. I had pretty much ruined everything in reach with my tail, slashing it all to bits out of boredom. All the power I’d been absorbing from the neighborhood I hadn't used yet.. I've been storing it, the pressure I feel building inside my body is powerful.. I just need a little bit more. The damaged front door swings open slowly, scraping across the floor. It's only Jake, I stare down at him, watching him carry everything in, slowly dropping it next to my huge feet. “I got everything you asked for, Asher.” he huffed out of breath. “Good slave, kiss my feet and go make my food now.” I commanded, he dropped to his knees, kissed my feet and scurried into the kitchen. I picked through the bags of clothes my good little brother brought me, fitting on a shirt that stretched, and a massive pair of black leather jeans. It all seemed too boring, with a flick of my tail I cut some rips in the shirt and jeans. Standing with a satisfied smirk I walked toward the kitchen, my horns making a loud scraping noise as I strolled through the house, forgoing my new size 22 boots for now. I walked up behind Jake, watching him cook the meat on the stove top. Reaching into the pile of uncooked meat, dropping a piece pieces into my mouth. A moan escaped me, “Flesh never tasted so good.” I chuckled, eating down a few more raw pieces of meat. There's a knock on the front door. “Go get that slave.” I say, folding my arms against my chest as he scurries to the door. A police officer stands behind it. “Evening son, We've gotten complaints of some loud animal roars coming from this place. Is your parents home?” I take over Jake's voice. “No they're not officer, but you're more then welcome to take a look around, we just moved in.” He strolls in, hands on his belt as he looks around, the second he enters the kitchen door frame my tail shoots out, wrapping around his neck as I pull him closer to me. I toss his gun to the side, smirking down as I loom over him. “I think you'll find yourself more obedient now officer.” I smile, squeezing my tail tighter around his neck. I start taking size from him... only half a foot before I drop him to the floor. “You belong to me now. Understand?” He nods. The size I had taken from him was enough to push me over the edge. The dam of power I'd consumed from the neighborhood burst. My back exploded, two wings unfurled from the confines of my shirt, the tips of my new wings hitting the ceiling.. I spread my wings with a chuckle, the faces of my two slaves full of awe and lust for my new form. I flex my arm, hearing the threads snap, thankfully the shirt holds. “Like what you see slaves? I'm not finished.. no where close..” I smirk, my teeth like fangs now, long, sharp and powerful. “find your gun and leave slave, make sure no one bothers me here again.” I shove him out of the kitchen with my foot, watching him scramble for the gun as he runs out wearing clothes too small for him. I walk back to my chair, it looks, darker.. more fitting for me then before. “Finish my food slave." I blink at myself. My voice.. so much deeper.. powerful, stronger. My own voice turning me on.. I could get used to this. “make sure you're dressed for tomorrow as well.” I smile laughing with a deep throat chuckle. “We're going to school.” Part 5: Attendance We arrive in the school courtyard, having been signed up before I arrived in town to the only all boys school in this shithole. Instantly all the boys freeze, staring at me in fear and awe. Some of them try to resist me, but all fail. None of them realize what I am. Already poking around in their heads and making them accept my huge size and demonic features. I smile and saunter across the lawn, tempting each boy with my huge bouncing muscled ass. My slave of a brother following me as he whimpers, nobody even takes notice of him as I duck inside the school, constantly crouching to avoid breaking the ceiling, for now. With some difficulty I make it to my homeroom, the doorframe groaning as the metal bends against my body. The teacher looks stunned, and sexy as well, I give my lips a quick lick, looking over his body. Buffed, tall, and scared of me already, my idea of a good meal. I shut the door behind me, giving the lock a flick, outside the classroom the hall has flooded with people lusting for a chance to see my body, my bros face pressed against the glass as sit in the front of the class, obviously too big to even try sitting anywhere else. My wide muscled back blocking the view for most of the class. I sit there hunched over, never once taking my eyes off the teacher. Above even my brother’s worship, I can feel this guy’s lust for me, my wings unfurl slightly, and I make my biceps jump as he starts talking. I watch in amusement as he constantly gets side tracked, jumping to strange topics I planted in his head, like exactly how much I can lift and describing each of my power muscles to the class. After some time of this I can feel a haze filling the room, it’s my own musk, but the scent combined with the teachers description of my amazing body has caused some students in the back to start rubbing themselves. Each student in worship of my power as I hold back my growth, just a few moments longer. I cut the teacher off, my chuckle a deep rumble as I approach the front of the room, I give him a push down under my boot, ignoring the moan of pleasure escaping from him as I face the rest of my intoxicated class. “I think we get the image our teacher was explaining,” I grin lustfully, “But just in case here’s an example!” I grunt, flexing my arms as they knock the ceiling tiles loose. I watch with renewed lust in my eyes as the class shudders in front of me. “Just to be clear, I own you all now.” I smirk, sitting on the floor with a thud, pulling the teacher out from under me. “Yo, teach, Worship these pits.” I order, watching him scamper to bury his face in my muscled pit. “The rest of you jack off to me, you can join him when you’re done.” I order. Two students join him almost immediately, pulling off my massive boots with two heavy thuds as the start licking my feet without pause. I hold back a groan, the worship already so strong as I grow slightly. Outside the classroom I can hear my brother chanting with half the school crowded into the hall behind him. “Asher… Asher… Asher…” Each time my chest pulses and I swell larger, even sitting my horns are reaching the ceiling. After a short while everyone in the classroom is on my body somewhere, lost in worship of my massive size and power. I decide to have some fun. With almost no effort at all I start draining every worshiper on me, taking their size and adding it to me. Inch by inch they grow smaller on me as I bend to keep my head in the room, I stop draining once my wings hit the ceiling, leaving them all at about 3 feet tall on average. The sight of all these people so small on my huge body intoxicates me. I grab the shrunken teacher from under my arm, squeezing ever so lightly before I hear several of his ribs snap. That alone made me go hard, I decided there that I never want to stop... The power alone is just too damn good. I break open the classroom door, watching the worshipers scramble in as I get on my knees, body slamming the wall, not caring about the runts around me. “Follow me to the gym Slaves.” I command, moving so I’ll have more room as my massive shoulder length almost reaches from side to side to side of the hall, placing me at about 17 feet tall already. “This school won’t hold me long.” I boom my clothes ready to tear off as I plan my next growing phase.

Almost there! One part to go. Thanks for putting up with my ridiculous macro fantasy thus far, guys! Hope you enjoy! A new kind of power source Part 5 The Bible tells us that Moses spoke to God at the top of a mountain. Tim’s biceps put Mount Sinai to shame. “WHAT DO YOU THINK?” His divine voice reverberated through the air. “THESE PEAKS AS BIG AS A FUCKING CITY YET?” He flexed the bulging mass several times, each pump of the stupendous muscle causing it to swell yet further with unbridled strength and impossible growth. Every movement, however casual, caused my flea-like form to tumble about the straining peak. It was only when Tim spoke to me that I knew he remembered I was still there. I was in no danger of falling over the “side”. At full tensed glory, you could have sat a quarter of the population of Swindon on the pale, steel-hard mound. Of course, with every second that passed, that number increased dramatically. There was no danger he would lower his arms either. He was having too much fun. I slammed into one of the tunnel-sized veins criss-crossing the peak’s surface and rolled to my feet. Steadying myself against the hot surface of the blue, furiously-pumping wall of flesh, I tried to catch my breath. “Not yet, Tim,” I gasped. “Man, I can’t believe you’re still so god-damned SMALL!” “GRRRR!” He roared in response, pumping his biceps even more furiously than before. I managed to make it over to a nearby striation (this one only a small ditch compared to the canyon size of some of the others I’d nearly fallen into) and was able to wedge myself into the gap between the two unyielding walls to prevent myself from any further falls. Rolling about the distended muscle was a hot experience – but I was getting pretty bruised too. And I needed a few moments to get my breath back. I spat out a little blood, and a tooth. A minor price to pay for getting a chance to play on a god’s bicep. I realised, for the first time, that I couldn’t even see the curvature of his arm. The pale flesh just stretched out before me, slick with sweat. I had long since given up trying to stay dry. Besides, being drenched in Tim’s manliness was hardly an uncomfortable experience. Hell, by now, most of Wiltshire probably stank of MAN. I imagined people in nearby towns sniffing at the air, the women getting wet and even the straight men getting steel-hard erections as the rich, testosterone scent of muscle-god filled their nostrils. I wondered, not for the first time, from how far away Tim’s muscles could be seen. Other counties? London itself? When would the French start noticing the titan swelling up across the Channel from them? I couldn’t wait until the Americans caught a glimpse of him. Speaking of views, the one to my left was blocked by the veiny mound. To my right, Tim’s pale flesh just went on and on into the horizon, an endless field of twitching, straining brawn that undulated with vast subterranean muscle. “GRRRRRRR!” He roared again. I couldn’t see from here but I was sure that his breath parted the clouds I’d last seen clustering about his pecs, scattering cumuli across the UK with every huff. “YOU’RE JUST NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH TO GROW ME, SPECK. DON’T YOU WANT THIS AS MUCH AS I DO?” I was sure that my desire was, if anything, stronger than it had ever been, and Tim was gaining hundreds of pounds of muscle mass every few seconds. It had taken a bit of practice but I had been able to break some small part of my mind away from the intense act of growing my friend so that I could actually appreciate his ascent into godhood. It was this part that responded to Tim: “You’re questioning MY desire? I want you to grow MASSIVE. Bigger than you could ever imagine. I think it’s YOU who’s afraid to grow that big…” I noticed my voice was beginning to echo and realised the steel walls about me were starting to stretch wider and wider apart. Soon my refuge would become another canyon-like striation. “Maybe you’re just happy to be this puny, this small.” I grinned. “Maybe I should find someone else to give your device to, huh? What do you say, tiny?” There was a sudden LURCH and my world tilted. I dropped out of the striation and before I knew it I was skidding across the hot, rippling surface of Tim’s bicep peak. My heart was in my mouth. I scrabbled desperately at the slick surface. “PUNY?” The word tore through reality like a nuclear explosion. “I’LL SHOW YOU WHO’S PUNY!” Tim’s growth had kicked into overdrive. I plunged into a bead of sweat several times bigger than my house. Kicking furiously through the hot, viscous, saline liquid, my head and shoulders broke the surface. It was difficult to tell from my crooked, pathetic perspective, but I figured I was somewhere near Tim’s elbow. Only the surface tension of the water was keeping me safe from gravity’s pull. This kept happening. Just when we thought we were both putting 100% of our energies into growing Tim, into cramming more and more mass onto his frame, there would be a sudden jolt like this and his rate of growth would increase. Was the source of the energy – our desire – growing too? Or had we, as I suspected, underestimated the real power of the devices? I glanced about me. Where once there had been an unrestricted view of a cloudless blue sky, now there was just TIM. Shit, that was one of his wrist muscles – his brachio-radialis, perhaps – bursting with rippling mass as it stretched out across the stratosphere. The bicep peak beneath the sweat droplet writhed as the titanic muscles expanded monstrously. Within minutes, his entire body mass had doubled; no, tripled. “My God!” I found myself gasping, though if you asked me whether I was praying to the Abrahamic deity or to my friend, I would be hard pushed to answer. I’ll go for the latter. I was filling the sweat droplet with cum from my ever-ripe balls – had been ever since he had started swelling once again – and somehow my ejaculate seemed a more fitting offering for Tim than any other deity. “STILL TOO SMALL!” he thundered, even as he passed what must have been twenty miles high and nearly that in width. Twenty one miles. Twenty two. Twenty three. The thing is, he was still too small. In our RPs we had rapidly skipped through the stratosphere. Now our journey seemed to be taking forever. I waited until one of my bouts of orgasm was over, then cried out: “Oh, you think YOU want you to grow big, little man? Well your desire’s got NOTHING on mine! I’m gonna show you just how freaking big you could be – if only you really wanted it half as much as me!” I gave another couple of kicks as I trod water. “And then – I’m gonna grow you even BIGGER!” The competition to see who could grow him the most, and the fastest, had begun. * I think there was a faint shift in ambience as we smashed into the mesosphere, though it could have simply been my imagination. Part of my brain marvelled that what had once been his height – a pathetic 25 miles – was now the circumference of one of Tim’s biceps. Grossly out-of-proportion to his stature, his physique was nothing short of… …of… …well, pretty good, I guess. The other part of my brain was obsessed with the thought: Tim was still far too small. “THAT’S MORE LIKE IT, SPECK!” The god’s voice filled my world. He was still flexing his biceps furiously, but they were so monstrous – and I, in comparison, so utterly pathetic – that I barely noticed. Do you notice when continents grate together? Or when the world spins? “WHERE’D YOU GET TO, ANYWAY?” I had lucked out. The crook of his arm was a confluence of sorts, and the bead of sweat had just grown bigger and bigger as more and more rivulets of perspiration flowed into it. The saline globe – now vast enough to flood a stadium – had gradually run around the curvature of Tim’s grotesquely swollen tricep and now hung suspended on the thickening mass of that beautiful muscle. This gave me a perfect view. Glancing one way, I could see the muscles of my god broadening with more and more insane mass. Glancing the other, I could make out the cirrostrati and cirrocumuli drifting far, far below, a swirling sea of white lapping up against Tim’s thickening calves. Logic told me that I shouldn’t be able to see anything. That at this size, at this height, Tim should be nothing more to me than a fuzzy mass, and the Earth little more than that. Yet my perspective was skewed, and I found I could make out details that should have been impossible from my perspective. “I’m on your tricep, Tim!” I called out. Again, he should not have been able to hear me. He clearly had no problem, however. “HANG ON!” The world below me disappeared, replaced with a vast, pale landscape of foothills. It was the tip of Tim’s finger. Carefully he reached up and scraped the bead of sweat onto the flesh of his digit. It had been some time since I was last on Tim’s fingertip. Before, its size had numbed my brain. Now, even the valleys of his fingerprints were lost in shadow. It was, like the rest of him, simply incomprehensible. Fifty miles. Fifty two. Fifty four. Tim raised me to his face. For a moment, I saw the same cute young guy who had thrown his arms about me and ground his cum-drenched briefs into my crotch in his driveway. Then he chuckled, nearly blowing me off his finger and sending me spinning endless miles to my death, and I knew that that Tim was long gone. The only thing linking the two was the desire to grow. “FUCKING PUNY,” he smirked, looking down at me. There was no way he should have been able to see me. No way either that I should have been able to make out his entire handsome, high-cheekboned face when his nose alone was nearly twelve times the size of Ben Nevis. And yet, here we were. “Just like our RPs!” I yelled up at him. His grin widened. “Except usually by this time you’re a lot bigger than this.” Seventy miles. Seventy five. “SHAME YOU MISSED THE BEST PART. ME CRUSHING THE FUCKING ARMY. AND ALL THOSE SKY-SCRAPERS TOO!” I laughed. “Nah – the best part’s still to come!” “ME OUTGROWING THE UK?” I shook my head. “You outgrowing the EARTH, dude.” * He blinked. If anything, that grin seemed to widen. Ninety. One hundred. “YOU SEEM PRETTY CERTAIN THAT’S GONNA HAPPEN, FOR A SPECK. WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU WON’T JUST PASS OUT ONCE WE HIT THE EXOSPHERE? OR THAT I WON’T JUST INADVERTANTLY CRUSH YOU?” He flexed his pecs beneath me. Like continental plates moving, the giant masses clenched into steel-hard globes of brawn. “EVEN AS I’M TALKING TO YOU, I CAN FEEL MY FEET SMUSHING THE LAST BITS OF SWINDON AND MOST OF THE SURROUNDING AREA INTO PASTE, AND I’M NOT EVEN TRYING,” he said cockily. “YOU DON’T STAND MUCH OF A CHANCE AGAINST MUSCLE THIS FUCKING HUGE.” “I won’t pass out. And you won’t crush me.” I was mildly surprised by the tone of certainty in my voice. “THAT AN ORDER?” He frowned. I felt a shift beneath me. There was a terrible BOOM, followed by a RUMBLE of destruction that sounded as though a mountain had decided to go for a romp across the surface of the Earth. Tim had taken one step forward. No, this definitely wasn’t the same guy I’d met earlier. This was Tim in full RP mode now, obsessed with nothing more than his own growth. One hundred and twenty. One hundred and forty. “No, not an order – a reality.” A look of bemusement crossed Tim’s features. It was as though he was weighing up the fun it would be to grind me to nothing against the possibility of his growth stopping. In the end, his greed won. “GO ON, SPECK. OUT WITH IT.” Two hundred. Two hundred and fifty. “You see, I began, I think your devices do more than just grow muscles.” “HOW DO YOU ACCOUNT FOR MY MASS, THEN?” He reached up and flexed the bicep of his other arm. It swelled and swelled, stretching grotesquely huge as it filled more and more of the space between titanic elbow and seething, monstrously striated, vascular wrist. “Oh, it grows muscles all right.” My mouth had gone very dry at the sight. Of course, the fact that the muscle kept growing bigger before my eyes did little to help me steady my train of thought either. “But I think it’s capable of so much more. I think it can affect reality itself.” After all, it had kept me alive so far. And provided Tim with skyscrapers and an army to fight, when that should have been impossible in a town like Swindon. And allowed us to communicate, and perceive each other. The list went on. “REALITY?” Tim clenched his bicep into a mind-blowing monster flex as though willing it to grow even faster than before. On cue, I started cumming again as the sinewy mass expanded before me, but I fought through the orgasm. “What I’m proposing is…what if we both – at the same time – stopped just thinking ‘Grow bigger, grow more muscular’ – which is taking far too long anyway, even with the occasional boosts we keep throwing at you. You’re still far too small.” No sooner had I ridden one orgasm out than I was struck with another, more intense one as I began to contemplate what I was proposing. “AND?” He growled, still pumping that bicep into inhuman hugeness. I collected my thoughts. “And instead, just think – again, together, right at the same time – ‘Be bigger than the Earth’.” Four hundred. Five hundred. “BIGGER THAN THE EARTH?” “Then we’ll make you bigger still. This’ll just be a test run. A testing of my theory.” He lowered his grotesque planetoid of a bicep. “FUCK. LET’S DO IT.” And we did.

"This is so fuckin' hot, little man!" He shouted with his head tilted back. His massive arms worked his big cock up and down. "Fuck my abs dude! And lick my fuckin pecs or I'll crush you in there!" He was jerking faster and faster, "Awww, yea, little man. Fuck my abs, lick these pecs! Ahh!" His muscles tensed and my head felt like it was going to pop. "Little man, I'm--Ahh-I'm--I'M GUNNA GROW!" I could hear his huge pecs growing on both sides of my head. The heat coming from them was making me sweat. They were growing around my skull and any second I knew they would crush me. My cock was still submerged in his abs as my hands beat the underside of his pecs. There was nothing my scrawny body could do to escape and my muffled screams were going unheard. I could feel his abs elongating and grinding my dick between them. I was on the verge of passing out when suddenly a heave of Alex's giant pecs made me go flying off of him. I flew so far off the bed that I hit the wall straight across from him and slid down to the ground. I laid on the ground panting and falling in and out of consciousness. The room slowed from a whirlwind to a slow spin as I caught my breath staring up at the high ceiling. From across the room I could hear the bed creaking and then something must have snapped because it made a loud bang that made the room shake. I was so out of it that I just laid there staring up. Out of no where the deepest voice addressed me: "Little man....you okay?" It made my spine shiver because of how loud it was. I still didn't register what it could have been until I heard whatever it was start to sit up. Suddenly there floor shook with a BOOM. Then the entire house shook with another BOOM. The light was beginning to dim as the booms came closer. I could see the knick knacks on the low table above my head move towards the edge with each shake. BOOOM. BOOOOM. I could feel the heat. BOOOOOM. My entire body lifted off the floor a little with the last shake. I finally put the energy together to lift my head a few inches. BOOOOM. "Little man... you ok down there?" I've never seen anything so magnificent in my life. From laying flat on the floor there was a god above me. It was a given I could not see his face but his pecs must have jut out at least two feet. They were covered in veins and sat high like two big beachballs on his sternum. He must have understood what my silence meant from below because he once again parted his huge ballooning pecs and stared down at me through the deep cleft between and smiled then asked, "How's the view from down there?" "God-like," I whispered to myself. He must have not heard me with his newfound height. "What was that, little guy?" And with that, the two giant orbs starting falling fast towards me in an attempt to hear what I had mummbled out of pure awe. The second it took for the behemoth to get onto one knee felt like minutes as his huge chest was thrust into my vision above me. There was almost no light from the room in my view from beneath him. "I couldn't hear what you said. Do you like how I look now?" "I said you looked God-like from up there!" He was dying to please me. "Hahaha!" He laughed whole-heartedly, "I knew you'd like seeing me G-R-O-W!" As he said the last word he expanded his back and flexed his chest high and mighty. His face completely disappeared from view and I felt my eyes grow wide as the shadow extended over my body. I was sitting up against the wall across from the bed and his chest kept flexing until his pecs met the wall and flattened against it. I know if he wanted he could have smashed through the wall with a simple pop of of chest. I couldn't handle it anymore. "You're SO BIG!" I lusted and reached up to touch the underside of his massive man mountains. But just as I almost reached them he released his flex and rose up to his feet. "Yea, little man! And It's all yours!" He flexed his massive arms and bounced his bowling ball biceps around then spun around giving me a view of his rock hard ass cheeks as he stomped towards the door. "Get yourself together and meet me in the kitchen. Your big guy is hungry!" His foot steps shook the room with each step. I spent the next fifteen minutes laying in the same slumped spot in the corner of Alex's huge bedroom jerking my cock to everything I had just witnessed. I got myself together and grabbed my tight briefs and my white tank top that I wore under my shirt. I threw them on and walked over to the large mirror wall that covered his closet and peered into it. I put my arms up in a flex position and looked myself up and down. I was so small compared to this guy! I was only 125lbs and under 5'4 while this guy was over twice my height and God only knows how much he weighed. I put my arms down as the smell of food filled the room. It smelled like...a lot of things. I left the bedroom and walked down the hall. There were rooms everywhere and the ceilings were extremely high. I made my way passed a living room with a huge couch that looked like it could have fit 10 of me. I kept walking until the smell of food was almost smacking me in the face. I walked around the corner and saw Alex sitting at a huge oak table in one of the biggest kitchens I've ever seen. There was an industrial stove and three industrial refridgerators. On the large oak table was an array of different foods.. Was he having a feast? I approached the table as he waved over with a large chicken breast in one hand and a hard boiled egg that looked like a pea clutched between his big finger tips. I walked over to the bench that was across from his bench that he used as chairs. As I jumped up I noticed this kitchen was made for someone much bigger than me because the table came up to the top of my chest. However, Alex seemed to fit very well with the setup; In fact, he looked a bit too big for it. "Dig in, little man!" He said with his mouth stuffed. I noticed he had already gone through three full roasted chickens, tons of rice, and so much other food that I couldn't identify because there was only scraps left. I reached over and grabbed a spoonful of corn, a sliver of chicken, and a dollup of mashed potatoes. The big guy laughed loudly as I started to dig in to my scarcely filled plate. "That's all you're going to have? You're making me feel fat!" He laughed. "You're anything but fat, big guy," I laughed "Trust me on that one!" He continued to chuckle along and brought one arm up, looked at it, and curled his hand towards his bulbous shoulders making his bicep rise up. Once again my eyes grew wide and my laughter turned to coughs as I choked on a biteful of corn. He quickly looked from his huge mountain to me and then back to his arm and then back at me. He put the connection together playfully. "You like this?" He smiled. "What happened to you being a PEC guy?" He popped his chest up as he said it causing me to cough again. "I am, but your entire body... All of your--" "MUSCLES?" He interrupted as he bounced his huge bicep and then raised his other arm to match. "All of your huge muscles are absolutely incredible. I still don't know why you're doing all of this for me." I stared in awe. "Little man, I told you..I'm not only doing this for you. I love how little you are; You make me feel like a giant and I love it! And I've never met anyone who wants me to get bigger like you do!" "Well, I've never seen anyone as big as you, and I don't think I ever will!" "Hell no you won't! Check this out." He let one arm down and reach across to the center of the table where a bunch of fruit was sitting. He grabbed and apple out of the bowl and brought it back towards him. He looked over to his bicep and straightened out his arm making the bicep unflex. He carefully placed the apple on the joint between his elbow and the bowling ball that sat on his upper arm. He bent his arm a few inches and the apple became completely wedged between all of the muscles on his arm. He looked right at my face and winked and then brought his hand towards his head to flex his gigantic arm. Veins rose up like ropes and the bowling ball turned into a globe right before my eyes. The apple was completely gone and only apple sauce and juice were left dripping down the side of his arms. Chunks of apple were all over his huge cannon as he looked back to me and said "Dessert is served!" I stood on my oversized chair and started crawling across the oversized table. I got to my feet and had to skip and jump over all the bowls of food and scraps left all over the table. I reached the giant man on the other side and I noticed even standing on this table with him seated I was only a few inches above his head. I rubbed my hands through his hair sensually and then slowly knelt down in front of his massive bicep. I looked up and over at his face and we both smiled before he raised his arm right up in front of my face and grunted. The massive arm was flexing even bigger inches from my face and it was filling my entire view. It was so massive it surpassed the size of a baby car seat. I put my hands on the smooth hot surface and began rubbing in a circular pattern around the spherical muscle orb. Veins ran under my finers as large as jump rope and there was a distinct crevice that seperated the bicep from the tricep that could easily fit a television remote. "Clean it off with your tongue, little man." Alex said as he peered over his huge arm down at me. I smiled again and pressed my tongue to the warm flesh in front of me. He tilted his head back and flexed his arm even bigger. The taste of apple and sweat filled my mouth. "That's right, little man, lick it all off!" I furiously began licking every inch and crevice of the massive orb in front of me. The big man groaned again and moved his free hand to behind my hand and gently pressed me face into his bicep. He relaxed the stone wall a bit and bounced my face into the huge mass. He then moved my head into the trench between his bicep and elbow where the apple had once been. "These guns could crush you right now if I wanted." I cringed as he began putting pressure on my little head with the bicep that was about four times the size. "But they're only here to protect you." I popped my head out from the muscle and smiled up at him. I rose to my feet and hugged his huge arm with both of my arms hardly being able to reach around it. My rock hard nine inch cock was grinding in the crevice where his bicep met his arm. I stopped because it felt so good that I thought I would blow my load right then and there. The big guy noticed this and reached over to my skin tight briefs and pulled them to the ground. "Go ahead, my little guy, fuck my giant muscles." I moved my legs closer to his huge bicep as I stood on the big oak table. I used one of my arms to grab onto the back of the man mountain and grabbed my cock with the other. I began flicking my nine inch cock onto the huge stone orb that was his bicep as he bounced it around for me. I then rubbed my dick all over his muscle veins. He leaned his head over to my cock and spit on my dick. I rubbed it around and then moved my dick to the deep trench where the apple and my head had once been. The big guy and I smiled at each other and then I began to thrust my dick in the cleft he made as he flexed his bicep. "You're...soo....fucking....huge!" I panted as I continued to fuck his gargantuan muscle. "That's right! Fuck my huge muscles! Tell me how big I am!" "You're....a giant. You're...a giant....muscle god!" I thrust one last time before errupting in the deep muscle trench. I pulled my dick out and slumped over his huge flexed bicep. He bounced his huge bicep one last time with a groan and it sent me flying to the place on the oak table directly in front of his massive chest. I laid face down sprawled out on my stomach. I was so tired I couldn't lift my face off the table to look at him. I could see on the side of me was still a bunch of metal and glass utensils, bowls, and plates with the scraps of food from the feast that had fed his muscles a few minutes ago and I assumed the other side of me was the same. "Wow, little man! I can see you enjoy bicep worship a lot! Hahaha, I just hope you haven't forgotten about these big ones!" I could hear him grunt and I could almost hear the sound of muscles expanding less than a foot over my head. A shadow came over me and I could feel heat from above. With the rest of the energy I had left I picked my head up and noticed he had moved closer to the big oak table because his rock hard upper abs were pressed against the table. I slowly moved my glance up higher and saw his huge mountainous pecs were being thrusted foward over my head. They formed a massive shelf that trapped me in a crawl space between the table and the pecs above me. "You better run, little man! Because here comes the real mountains!" My eyes grew wide as they expanded over me.

Twenty-one Back in the basement Anton opened his eyes groggily as he heard the old, squeaky door open. “I’m here”, he yelled exhaustedly and pain travelled through his battered, 580 pound body. “I know”, Matt replied as he closed the door and stepped up to the behemoth attached to the ceiling and floor. “Have some water”, he said and put a cup at his prisoner’s mouth. Anton took a long gulp and spat the water into the football player’s face. “You’ll regret the day you were born once I’m loose.” Matt tossed the cup aside, dried up his face and grabbed the iron bar from the floor. “You’ve said that before. But it seems like the good guys are winning. You’re tied up here, Connor’s being distracted by his tutor and even those hideous wolves have disappeared. Tomorrow, Keith’s uncle, the priest, will be here to exorcise Tomas and then you guys will be back to normal: the skinny runts you were. At the mercy of the big football players. Just like you are now!”, he said and slammed the iron bar hard against the behemoth’s 14-pack. “AUW!” Anton’s loud, pain-filled scream echoed against the basement’s walls as the iron bar dug into his bruised abs. More pain flooded his body as he tried to flex the battered muscles. Another groan escaped his mouth as the bar smacked against him a second time. “I’ll enjoy beating the crap out off your skinny body when all is back to normal. Imagine the pain. Now it feels like I’m hitting a piñata”, Matt said as he took a third swing at the 14-pack. Anton’s mouth hung open in a soundless scream. The air was forced out off his lungs as the iron bar kept raining down on his nearly destroyed abs. “Are you balls as weak as your abs?”, Matt asked. “No…ugh”, Anton grunted as the iron bar softly brushed his cock and balls. “Let’s find out”, Matt said and aimed for the long, soft cock dangling between the titanic quads. Anton passed out and his 580 pound, beastly body went limp as the iron bar hit his cock and balls with a loud smack. “That’ll do for now”, Matt said. He tossed the bar down and left, looking back and grinning over the past out, bruise-covered behemoth. In the shower zone, Alex felt the energy building more and more inside him. The bloated feeling in his stomach from ingesting the large blasts of cum from Logan’s cock, made room for a warmth. He moaned in pleasure as it spread through his muscular, 270 pound body. “Yeah”, he grunted as the sensation of a deep pump invaded every muscle on his frame. He looked down at the drained, fallen star athlete on the floor and abandoned the skinny team captain. He exited the shower zone, strutted through the locker room and barged into the gym. More pleasure-filled moans escaped his mouth as he moved in front of the mirrors and his body began to change. Connor was searching the hallways for the disappeared Anton. Several students yelled in fear as he pulled open the door of their room. He was on his way to the basement as a door on his left opened. A smug grin formed on his lips: his runt brother and his tiny roommate stared up at him. Behind them, two priests appeared. “Uncle?”, Connor asked in disbelief. “Yes. It is me, my nephew”, Father Luke answered, “What has that beast done to you?”. “My friend Anton made me into the man I’m meant to be”, Connor said and put his right arm in front of his abs. Veins exploded on the perfectly round mound of muscle as the beefy, 45 inch bicep came to life. Sean’s and Keith’s pencil dicks surged to hardness as they drank in the sight of the ripped cannonball of meat. “No, he has not turned you into to man you were destined to be”, Father Luke replied sharply, “God gave you the gift of intellect. Your brother had the gift of physical power. That demon and his infernal acolyte interfered with the divine plan. They have corrupted you, my nephew.” “No, they haven’t”, Connor bellowed deeply, “I’ve never felt better!”. He bounced his pecs, making them dance under his skintight shirt, to emphasize his point. “Yes, they have. Deep down you know that I am telling the truth. It is time to set everything back straight and make you return to the path of God”, Friar Luke said and stared up to look his behemoth nephew in the eye. “But I don’t want to be small again”, Connor said like a toddler. “Your brother will be more than willing to show you how to get bigger”, Father Luke replied and patted his nephew’s meaty shoulder. “Yeah. We’ll work out together, bro. You’re body will respond good on the training”, Keith peeped in his high-pitched voice and put his tiny hand on his brother’s thick, hard bicep. “Really?”, Connor asked and playfully clenched his fist, making his bicep swell. Keith’s 2.5 incher leaked a dribble in his briefs as he felt his brother’s 45 inch bicep harden under his touch. “Yeaughn”, he said, “your muscle memory will remember your former size. Your body shall be eager to grow back to like it is now”. “Okay then”, Connor said as he kept teasing his older brother with his bicep, “but I’ll go with you when you take on Tomas. If anything goes wrong I’m big enough to easily overpower him and when he sees that I’m not on his side anymore, he’ll now he has lost.” “Good thinking, my nephew”, Father Luke answered, “Let us get on with it. Father Mark, follow us!”. “You guys stay in your room”, Connor said to his brother and Sean, “I don’t want anything to happen with you. You’ll be the bigger one again when I return”. He ruffled his older brother hair and followed the two priests. “I told you my brother still had some good inside him”, Keith said to Sean as they drank in the sight of Connor’s wide, muscle-filled back. Alex gasped as he stared at his reflection in the mirror: it seemed like his muscles were getting smaller. A smile formed on his face as he realized that he was getting taller. The well-defined muscles on his 270 pound frame were simply adjusting to his lengthening bones. He quickly grew upward, stretching way beyond his familiar 5’7. His head rose up and up and he could see just over the large mirror as his growth came to an end. His body settling at 7 feet exactly. He moaned excitedly as the warmth in his stomach intensified and blasted through his taller body. Connor barged into Tomas’ room, easily hiding the two priest behind his insanely broad back. “It is time”, he said in his deep voice as he stared at the figure behind the desk. Tomas turned around and looked up at his behemoth servant. “Did you locate my pet?”, he asked. “No. Your terror ends here and now”, Connor stated and stepped aside to reveal the two priests. “So, the hour of betrayal is upon me. Haven’t you had enough the first time?”, Tomas said and stared evilly at Father Luke. “Give up your evil ways and return to the path of the righteous. We have already convinced my nephew to abandon the infernal route you had lured him onto. Now, it is your time!”, Father Luke said as he and Father Mark stepped up to the center of the room. “Stop them, Connor!”, Tomas ordered, “Remember what price Anton paid for his betrayal!”. Connor stepped back and positioned his broad back against the door. “You have no more power over him and your other beast is locked away. You will now face the power of the Holy Word of God. Repent your sins and save your soul!”, Father Mark said as he yielded a crucifix in front of him. “Vade retro, Satanas!”, Father Luke screamed and sprinkled Tomas with Holy Water. “Go to the basement, Connor, and get that foul beast that Anton has created now that you are still big enough to carry him”, Father Luke said as he kept sprinkling Holy Water onto Anton. Connor nodded and opened the door. “No! Stay here and crush them!”, Anton yelled in anger at Connor’s broad back. The behemoth left and closed the door. Alex’ muscles sucked in the warmth and began inflating rapidly. His diamond-shaped calves swelled at the back of his long legs and doubled in size in mere seconds. His already meaty quads thickened, the grooves on them deepening. Alex flexed them and they grew even beastlier as veins exploded all over the hard masses of beef. An idea crossed his mind and he quickly grabbed a pair of dumbbells. He returned in front of the mirror and began doing curls to beef up his arms. His tight abs were enlarging and hardening, turning into a hard 12-pack of cobblestone-sized, ripped, steely muscles. Above them, his protruding pecs bulged with mass. The rack of solid, striated muscle pushed his big, sensitive nipples outward and down. The heaving pecs quickly looked like two watermelons shoved under his paper-thin skin. Ripples and striations exploded across the large surface as Alex bounced them in perfect control. He grinned broadly at the sight and tossed the dumbbells aside; they felt like feathers in his empowering grip. He grabbed the heaviest ones and continued cranking out reps. His broad shoulders widened beyond the size of two doors as his delts exploded with mass. The perfectly round muscles looked like beach balls decorated with a thick vein under his skin. At the back his traps shot upward, thickening into a strong bull-sized one. The muscle brushed his ears as he shrugged his meaty shoulders, making striations explode across the surface of the ridiculously wide delts. Alex looked down as he felt something hot grow in the canyon between his hard abs. His cock had swollen to its familiar 10 inches and kept inching upward. It stopped at the top row of his 12-pack as it had doubled in length and girth: 20 solid inches of coke-can-sized meat throbbed against his abs and brushed the bottom of the rack of pecs that hung from his chest. None of his huge muscles compared to his arms, though. Alex had amped up their growth by doing curls as they grew. His biceps ballooned upward and outward, covered in thick veins as he curled the dumbbells up; his thick triceps hardened in a strong horseshoe-shape that exploded at the back of his arms as he lowered the weight. Alex effortlessly tossed the dumbbells to the other side of the gym and extended his arms parallel with the floor. His biceps already formed a football-sized, hard ball of muscle and his thick triceps hung low from his arms. The separation between the two muscles was clearly visible and veins snaked over them, feeding the large slabs of beef. Alex raised his meaty forearms, the size of Logan’s quads at his prime, and brought them in. The orbs of ripped muscle shot upward and outward, doubling in size. Alex continued bringing in his forearms and hardened his flex. The peaks of his intimidating biceps swelled higher and pushed thick veins up, his skin stretching to the max as it tried to contain the muscle. The titanic biceps reached their full new size as Alex tightened his flex: the muscles atop his arms looked like vein-covered pineapples. The 55 inch orbs of meat totally dwarfed the other beastly muscles on his 500 pound frame. A shudder went through Alex and his 20 incher blasted a huge load of thick cum against the bottom of his protruding pecs. His sticky man juice slowly slid down the canyons of his 12-pack as more loads followed. Alex broke his flex and grabbed his throbbing cock, marveling at its size. He put both his big paws on it and still had some room left; he couldn’t even close his paws around the girth of it. He stroked and stroked, shooting cum all over the large mirror. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Tomas’ evil laugh broke Father Luke’s and Father Mark’s concentration. They lowered their attributes and stared at the 300 pound gymnast sitting in front of them. “You didn’t really think I hadn’t foreseen this?”, Tomas asked, “I knew you guys were coming before you did. The infernal spirits informed me of every move you made.” “These lies will not save you from our Holy Church!”, Father Mark said, “Feel the power of Christ! Vade retro, Satanas!”. “Vade retro, Satanas!”, Father Luke joined in. “O, please. Cut it out!”, Tomas declared and got up from his chair, “Those weak, folkloristic chants mean nothing. Veni, Satanas!”. An icy chill invaded the room and hellish chants echoed from the walls. Thunder rumbled outside and lightning illuminated the dark sky; wolves howled frighteningly around the buildings. “I’m too powerful for your weak faith now”, Tomas said calmly, “I’ve decrypted the last piece of the manuscript last week and I’m totally prepared for you religious clowns now. You didn’t really think that Connor was at your side, did you?” Color drained from Father Mark’s and Father Luke’s faces as they heard the door lock magically. Father Mark jumped to it and tried to open it in vain. Panic filled them as they realized they had stepped into a trap. “Wasn’t it way too easy that Connor gave in? Why would he give up his magnificent muscles just like that? He’s not the weak, little boy you know anymore. I’ve shown him his true destination in life! You have no power whatsoever over him; I’m almighty and he knows he’s just a puppet in my command. Now meet your doom!”, Tomas said and raised his hand palms upward. Instantly, Father Mark’s feet left the ground and he floated in the air, totally at Tomas’ mercy. Father Luke invoked God with all his might and prayed out loud: “ Dominus, liberate nos. non abducas nos in tentationem! Connor, my nephew, let the Holy Word return you to the path of the righteous! Repent from your evil deeds, save your soul and come save us in here!”. “I’ve told you before, your weak religion is nothing compared to the forces of Hell! Veni, servitorem diavoli!”, Tomas said. An icy howl echoed through the room as a strange creature jumped through the mirror: it had the body of a rabbit, the tale of a cat and the head of a dog. Sharp teeth flickered in the light as it opened its beak and a short flame shot from it. It howled to Father Luke and sprang toward him. The priest clawed against the locked door and sprinted to the furthest corner as the creature closed in on him. Tomas was playing with Father Mark: he made him hit the ceiling and crash down on the floor repeatedly. The priest was totally in his power. Tomas smiled as he noticed Father Luke running around in circles, being chased by the infernal creature. He raised his other hand and Father Luke also left the floor. Tomas opened the window and made the two priests float outside. “It’s no stairway to heaven, but a highway to hell for you!”, he said and opened his hands. Father Luke and Father Mark shot through the air, lightning striking them as they flew through the dark sky. Their smoking bodies crashed down on two big cactuses and two gigantic, black wolves jumped onto their bodies. Howling at the moon as they devoured their remains. More thunder rumbled heavily through the night and the made the ground shake. Infernal, horned creatures emerged out of nothing and dragged the souls of the two priests to the depths of Hell. A strong, storm like wind rattled the ancient buildings of Orchid University, accompanied by the frightening howls of the wolves. Tomas smiled from his window as he gazed at the scene below. He knew that the hour for the ritual was near.

Welcome to The Muscle Finalist Bio page! Here you can read up on each of our contestants and choose who YOU want to see become the first winner of The Muscle! ============================================================================================= Contestant 1: Adam Age: 19 Weight: 180 Occupation: Student Lifting for: 4 years Personal statement: Hey all. My name's Adam and I am hoping to be chosen as the winner of The Muscle! I've been lifting for a little over 4 years now and it's nearly become my whole life! I'm a student but I'm barely passing most of my classes as I spend all my time either lifting, eating, sleeping or thinking about getting bigger! I want to become the top name in bodybuilding so this seems like the best way to do it! I've only recently gotten into muscle worship from others as I spent most of my "free" time worshiping myself! It was an amazing experience the first time though and I've been hungry for it even more! Hope you guys choose me each week and I promise that I will do my best to prove why I should be The Muscle! Erotic Story: Um... well it's a bit embarrassing but one of the hottest things for me was after working out at the campus gym another guy who was built almost as much as I was came into the shower after me and basically attacked me... not physically, but sexually. Came right in and started feeling me up and stroking my cock. Started telling me how hot I was and how much he had been wanting to do this for weeks now and finally got the courage to do so. Well he had courage alright, liquid courage... between the strong smell and his quick work to my cock, I felt a little drunk myself! He started asking me to flex for him and show him how big I was. I was already horned up from my workout and this wasn't the first time I'd been worshiped by a guy so I figured, why not? I started by flexing my arm for him and he attacked it like a ravenous wolf! Licking and kissing it, moaning all the while he was stroking my cock. After a couple pumps I pulled him up to my face where he started gabbing about how hot I was, how he couldn't wait to see me even bigger. Well nothing gets me harder or more turned on than the idea of growth so I started giving it back to him. "Oh yeah?" I said "You want me to get even bigger than this? That's a 19 inch arm you were sucking on... bigger than most guys get and you want to see it even BIGGER!?" He was moaning even harder now and nodding his head telling me he wanted to see it bigger than his head. "Well let's compare shall we?" I said. "Let's see just how much your head compares to this gun of mine." And I slammed his face back into it. Pumping my bi into his mouth forcing him to open it as wide as he could. "Yeah... lick that huge gun. Bet you'll be even hungrier when it pumps up to 20" I flexed hard into his face before relaxing it "then 21" another pump "then 22! GRRRR!" I was fucking rock hard now and couldn't control myself. He started to thrash a bit but I didn't really notice as I was too turned on now. I pulled my arm back, turned him around, slammed him into the tile and started fucking him. Was really stupid as I didn't have a condom but I was possessed. I grabbed his hands and pinned them to the wall above his head and just impaled him in the first thrust. He was really moaning now and yelling too as I mercilessly fucked him pinning him to the wall. "Yeah this is what you wanted right? Being fucked by this big teen muscle stud? Feel my thick pecs against your back pressing you into the wall. Can't wait for them to get even bigger... want them so huge I can't see my feet over them... yeah fucking massive teen beast..." Over and over it went. No idea how long it was but I couldn't hold on much after that and rammed into him so hard I lifted him off the floor for the first blast of my cum into him. After he came back down I backed up a step and wrapped my arms around him and was bear hugging him while I shot into him. Each shot made me squeeze his torso into mine until I was finally spend and pulled out of him. When I could finally think straight again, I looked down to see that there was quite a bit of blood. At first I thought he was just a virgin, but then I saw his mouth was bleeding. Then I realized that I had broken one of his teeth while I was flexing my arm in his mouth. He was out of it and passed out so I left. Found out later that he was woken up by the janitor and taken to the campus nurse. He had to get a false tooth in the next couple days and seemed a bit weary of me after that, but I could tell that he was still really turned on by me. He never approached me after that but I could tell that if he ever got really drunk again, he'd come find me for an encore performance.

Angel: A Sequel – Part IX By [email protected] A New Muscle Reality Grant and I were now living in a totally new world for both of us. Hell, I didn’t know whether to call him “Grant” or “Superman”. It really doesn’t matter. I can’t separate one from the other. I don’t want to, either. He is being both to me and to himself -- in the most profound sense. Out of necessity – some days ago -- we had to buy a much bigger and wider couch to accommodate his massive size and height and my never-ending need to be on top of his undulating mass of flexing muscles. In some fabulous moments – I’d be beneath him – nearly (and gloriously) suffocated by his weight, size, mass, and his huge hard cock that just kept jamming and punching me. God, I loved it. I found out that I, too, had a bit of a masochist streak in me, and he got his rocks off taking full advantage of me. Now, with his gorgeous very tight and fitting-like-a-glove contoured new Superman outfit, we were in a new ball game – to put it mildly. He looked absolutely spectacular. He was, without a doubt, the full and complete personification of Superman. The same very handsome and unbelievably built Superman that children, men and women had fantasized about for years. What did my unbelieving eyes see? The fabric on his huge chest and torso – a very bright red and yellow emblem on deep blue. The tightness of the sexy red trunks (emphasizing a spectacular bulge!) around his narrow waist and muscular butt. The form-fitting blue leg “leotards” (for lack of a more masculine word). His hot and sleek bright red boots. His narrow yet muscular waist accentuated by a thick yellow belt that just exuded a locus of incredible power. All of that plus his god-given extremely handsome face (with dimples and a cleft, and a day old beard that just never grew any longer), waves of curly dark hair, ears that stood out just a bit (very sexy), and a pair of blazing eyes and a blazing smile that was always an invitation to come close, real close. And, because he was an angel, he just glowed in ways that attracted people – bringing them close to him – in a mystery that defied human experience and understanding – certainly mine. And, none of this is overstatement on my part – none. All of this extremely sexy outfit was tightly stretched over his total “to die for” mass of muscles, striations, veins – in such total overall perfect proportions that made men both weep and get hard – and made women go nuts with lust. The very tight fabric showed off all his contours, bulges, bulk, vascular tie-ins, and extraordinary cuts and definition. There was no other man on the planet that could come close to him. And, we would find that out – for real – soon enough. He was so proud of his new look – strutting around, posing, and parading for me – frequently asking me (just like a kid would) what I thought. Most of the time I was speechless. I could just barely mutter guttural sounds of delight, shock, and enthusiasm. More often then not, I let my hands answer and slowly wander and sensually explore the entire mystery of his ever so tight and thin fabric covering his hyper-masculine and massive physique. What a birthday gift he had given me and himself! As we had done so many times before, he lay down on our couch and invited me over to lie on top of him. Only this time, I was lying on top of Superman. Oh fuck. I couldn’t believe one of my fantasies (there would be many more) was coming true. Of course, he is so huge in so many ways and I am so small. Yet, that difference just fed into our mutual passion to explore each other with unbridled enthusiasm. Not only was I nuzzling into all his muscles, I was nuzzling into Superman…dressed in all his glory and power. It was a new feeling. I couldn’t get enough of him and the feel of the tight fabric against his warm, hard muscles. I had always got incredibly turned on by pictures of bodybuilders that were partially clothed. Seeing them for real was something else entirely. He tightened each muscle for me as I jammed and pushed myself into his body. I moved up to his face, paused right above his beautiful lips, savored his extreme good looks, met his eyes with my own, and gave him the deepest most heartfelt kiss I had ever given him. I couldn’t stop. My tongue circled the inside of his entire mouth. God, he tasted so sweet. He smelled so incredibly masculine. He reciprocated by powerfully touching every cavity in my own mouth. I brought my hands to the sides of his face and cradled his gorgeous head in my hands – coveting the beauty, power, and love that he was giving me. He, in turn, brought his arms up around my back. And, with his ever so delicate power, completely encircled me in an embrace of passion, power and muscle -- telling me so much about how he felt about me – silently. As usual, though never assumed or taken for granted, our hard cocks were, once again, crushed against each other in their own passionate dance of jamming and thrusting. While he was still easily twice my size, both in width and length, my new cock was certainly up to the task of making my presence known to him and making him feel good. We started humping each other hard. He, of course, was the “power bottom” extraordinaire. His unlimited strength and flexibility gave him the ability to literally throw my lower body, cock, balls, and ass up into the air at will. I always came down hard on him, and me. Sometimes it hurt. Yet, god, what a ride that always was. We extricated ourselves from the couch and made dinner together. Fuck, how cool it was to have Superman standing around the kitchen helping me cook dinner, his red cape flowing in all directions. In one way, so normal. In another way, so incredibly surreal. I had told him earlier that I wanted him to keep his Superman outfit on, even though I had grown to love having him always be buck naked around me. He agreed with no argument. I really think he liked it for a lot of his own reasons, too. My fantasies about him being Superman and all, had been running wild all day long. He knew that. It was exciting for both of us. We were exploring a whole new territory together. A New Way Being “One” in Bed We decided it was time to hit the sack and snuggle like we always did. And, as often happened, we’d fuck the hell out of each other, too. I always got off a couple of times rubbing fucking his flexed muscles with my hard cock – all of them – his pecs, his abs, his massive arms, his quads, his mind-boggling back and, of course, his tightly muscled ass. As I mentioned earlier, though it was a mystery to me, I was always thrilled when he got off working me over. Our laundry machine was always running it seemed. We generated a lot of cum and other body juices. “Paul…I have an idea…would you like me to stay in my outfit in bed with you? Or, do you want me naked, as usual?” he inquired with utmost sincerity. “Holy mother of god…yes, yes…please stay in your outfit. I can’t imagine a better feeling than sleeping next to Superman in all your extraordinary super-hero presence,” I said with great excitement and passion. I remember as a little kid thinking about what it would be like to sleep with Superman. Now it was really happening. As he sprawled out in bed, his outfit was a fabulous contrast to the pristine white sheets. I stripped and snuggled in next to him…spooning with my back to him. I hunched something very special was going to happen but didn’t quite know what. He knew. He had read my mind earlier, as always. He undid his yellow belt and pulled down his tight trunks and jock strap. His big hard cock flipped out and jammed itself into my butt. “Would you like Superman to fuck you, Paul?” he asked very seductively. “Yes, oh god, yes…I want to feel all of you inside me as deep as you can go. I want to feel Superman’s massive cock ravage me…take me…pound me…explode inside me…own me…” I stammered. Boy, was I ready. I’d certainly been fucked by Grant many times, but never by Superman. A small distinction, perhaps. Yet it was a big one for me. “Let’s make this even more special, Paul, my dear friend and lover,” suggested Superman. “I’m going to take this beautiful big red cape of mine and wrap you and me in it together. It will create a cocoon of protection and be a symbol of my possession of you while I fuck the hell out of you,” he explained with deep mystery in his voice. “I want this cape to be a fortress for you, a powerful bond with me, as I surround you with all my hard muscles and bring you so close into me that we are, in fact, one,” he added sounding like a poet. “Oh my god…I can’t imagine anything more beautiful than that, Superman…thank you…thank you,” I whispered. Deep-seated, long-held dreams since childhood were coming true. This was going to be a very special ritual between us. With grace and no hassle he rearranged the huge cape so that it covered us both. He even tucked in the edges around my front side. My back side was up against his hard cock and the rest of his outfit. I loved the feel of his slick boots as I explored them with my feet. It occurred to me that there might be something kinky we could do later with his boots that could be a real turn on. He gently moved his massive fabric covered right arm under my head and brought me in very close to him. I always loved using his massive bicep and tricep as a pillow. The deep blue tight fabric made it even more special. Then Grant – I mean Superman – began gently pushing at my tight hole. Given his unlimited strength and power, he is still always so gentle with me. I snuggled into the cape even more and adjusted myself on his huge arm. I could feel his non-stop supply of warm pre-cum lubricate the outside of my hole. I told myself to relax. “How does it feel to be wrapped up in my cape and feel my big cock at your doorway, my friend?” he inquired. “I’m in heaven, in heaven, Superman.” I loved calling him Superman. So primitive. So symbolic. So filled with fantasy and, now, reality. I was one very lucky man. As he just started to enter me, I could feel his enormous width and immoveable steel-like probe slowly advance. I took in another deep breath, having learned before to do this with him. “Yes, Paul, I’m your Superman and I am loving you with all my heart and soul. I won’t hurt you. You are too precious to me,” he said reassuringly. “I want to feel all of my width, length, unlimited strength, and hardness – and get surrounded by your beautiful tight ass. That is your gift to me,” he added. He tightened his arm hold on my head even more – just to make his point. I was in a wonderful “prison’. “Okay, relax that anal ring of muscle and I’ll pass through. It’ll feel great,” he said encouragingly. I did. It hurt for a moment. And then I had, as I had had before with him, an incredible feeling of being filled so deeply. And he wasn’t done. He kept pushing in and I kept pushing back on him. He felt so very very big that I thought my ass would explode. It never did. His exceptional lube made this all possible. “Oh yeah, fuck, Paul, yeah…take me…take all of me…take my big Superman cock…I’m gonna pound you into ecstasy,” he screamed. And that he did. Between being damn near crushed by his arm around my head and the mystery of being completely encased in his red cape, I was letting myself go in a way I had never done with him before. With his huge cock pounding me and my flexing my anal muscles and pushing back, we were indeed, one. Then to my surprise, he added another sensual delight. He brought his hulking left arm around. It lay very heavy on my side and he grabbed my hard cock and started masturbating me with a vengeance. Fortunately I, too, had lots of lube. Damn. He knew how to do me in spades. He touched and massaged all of my sensitive spots with his hairy thick fingers. I was so turned on by being fucked by Superman and by being masturbated by Superman too, that I started churning instantly. I started hollering all sorts of expletives and exploded volleys of jizz into his cape one right after another and he just kept on pumping me. God it felt so good to have his big hairy Superman fist around my hard cock. It was like he was giving me a direct transfusion of his own unsurpassed masculinity and testosterone. He wouldn’t let up. He knew there was more in me and he was right. More explosions. More release and a profound sense of delirious depletion. My explosions, no surprise, started to get him revved up big time, too. “Hang on, Paul…I’ve got some thick warm mother loads for your ass. Special delivery from Superman,” he guffawed. “Shit, yeah, Superman. I want it all. I want all your spunk…all your cream…all your cock driving deep into my ass…give it to me, man…give it to me…” I hollered back. I was in another world. Then it all happened at once. Everything. He tightened his vice-like grip on my head. He kept pumping my cock, even harder, even though I had nothing left to give – or so I thought. His whole body damn near went into a catatonic state of a total body muscular flex. And I felt his cock get even harder and bigger in my ass. I was scared, but trusting he would always be in total control…though I wondered about that at this moment, frankly. “Holy fuck…fuck…fuck…shit…god…oh god…it’s all coming right now…right now…I can’t control it…jeesuz….” he just screamed at the top of his lungs. And then I felt his whole body flex again and surge with unbelievable power as he let loose with his first torrent of warm jizz. My ass filled instantly with an incredible, all encompassing warmth. Then another pump and another explosion. I could feel the jizz leaking out my ass. He truly was a geyser of cum. He stiffened and flexed his body even more and pumped out more nectar of the gods. I kept flashing on how we were doing this enveloped and encased in his extremely seductive red cape. This was so deeply symbolic to me. In between pumps he kept muttering questions (more muscle-sex talk) to me about “How is it to be fucked by Superman?” “How does it feel to have Superman’s big cock in your ass?” “How does it feel to be surrounded by my cape and your head held by my massive arm?” “Do you feel protected?” “Is this a fantasy come true for you?” “How’d you like having my big hairy muscular fist beat the fuck out of your big cock?” “Ever feel such unlimited strength and power in a God like me?” I was only able to barely nod my head in response to each question and smile lovingly at his very handsome face and tightly cordoned neck muscles. In a maneuver only he was capable of – given his unlimited strength – he simultaneously rolled over on his back and pulled me up over on top of him – me facing up -- with his hard cock still deep inside me. “Oh shit, Paul…I just love your sweet tight ass. It makes me feel even bigger than I already am. And you’re so willing to trust me and take all of me. God, it is so damn special. You are so special,” he purred. I chimed in: “I never imagined a fuck session like that with Superman. You are definitely Superman. I loved being enveloped in your big red cape. I felt so special, so protected, so cared for. It was like being in a womb,” I said with deep appreciation for his passion and sexual creativity with his new identity. We weren’t through quite yet. He brought his big beautiful guns up to my chest, and with another vice-like grip, proceeded to squeeze and re-squeeze me. It was more heart-felt, though it did hurt a bit. At the same time, he bounced his pelvis up high so his still hard cock would jam back up into my now very raw ass. That was amazing. But then he started to bob and weave with his pelvis so my ass got every angle of his monster hard cock – sorta like an internal meat grinder. He was having his way with me, once again, as only a Superman of his unlimited strength can do. I loved it. He squeezed me a little tighter and said: “You know, Paul, there are 1000’s of men who would deeply love to be with me…who would give most anything to be manhandled by their Superman…to be with me in bed like we are right now…to have their long-held childhood fantasies fulfilled. We saw that at the gym with those musclemen. If I could, I’d give myself to all of them. Yet, you are the one I picked and picked many years ago. And I’m so glad I did. It means so much to me to be your Superman and give you what you need and have always wanted not just in a man, but in Superman. You’re a special guy, so open, so vulnerable and filled with fantastic fantasies that can light us both up,” explained my Superman. I really liked it when we got philosophical with one another from time to time – a good balance to all the focus on sex and muscle-worship. “Oh thank you Superman. I feel so honored. And I like calling you Superman. Hope you won’t mind if I forget and call you Grant sometimes. You’re both to me. And, as I’ve been thinking, you’re going to need to be both out in the world if we are to get out of the house once and a while,” I snickered. He laughed, as well. Planning Some More Muscle Adventures We kept waking each other up throughout the night. We just couldn’t get enough of each other. Our cocks would get hard and poke and prod whatever they could connect to. I’d always thought he had testosterone for blood. Now I was thinking I did too. I was very grateful. It was like we had to keep reminding each other that we were there. Grant made sure I stayed tightly wrapped in his big warm cape. My hands couldn’t stop roving over his mountains of fabric covered muscle, exploring every crevasse, and swooning over his big cock and balls. Fuck, I couldn’t get enough of my manhandling his big cock’s warmth, hardness, and amazing length. He giggled when I tickled his piss slit and rubbed that very sensitive spot just under his crown. He didn’t miss a beat and did the same for me. I must have been asleep at one point because he extricated himself and his cape from around me. Went out into the kitchen, made coffee, and brought it back to us on a tray for some early morning joe in bed. So thoughtfully domestic. I was awake by then and still marveled at the extraordinary and profoundly masculine and sexy look he carried so proudly as my Superman. Fuck, I had never seen such a handsome, massive, and bulging man -- ever. In a simple and loving gesture, he recovered me in his cape. In a way it felt like an act of sex…much like last night. We started talking about going back to Gus’ bodybuilding gym and visiting the muscle heads there (See Angel: A Sequel – Part VI). It had been a few weeks and Gus had made it clear that we were welcome at any time. In fact, I had noticed that Gus was the head promoter of a big regional NPC physique contest in a couple of weeks. That meant a lot of those massive monsters that had fucked Grant and been fucked by Grant, and muscle-worshipped Grant, would be there getting themselves competition ready. That brought back some really hot memories that got us both hard real fast. In fact, Grant was losing the war with his jock strap and tight red trunks – his huge cock was way up to his left hip again and just inviting me to massage, rub, pound, and generally try to manhandle it even more. That, of course, isn’t really possible with Grant’s cock. It does what he wants it to do. I tried anyways. He loves it when I really rough-house with it and pound at it real hard. He just grins, reminding me that he’s impervious that way. We got fired up and came up with a plan. We’d go to the gym and, of course, be greeted with the same cheers and hollers from the muscle monsters we had met last time. We knew he would still be their muscle god. Grant would pack his full Superman outfit. We’d go into Gus’ office and talk about being part of the physique show. Not as a competitor. Grant would blow them all away in a heart beat if we did that. But, instead, Grant would do a special posing exhibition at half time or just before the awards were made. The cool angle would be that Grant would come out and do his breath-taking posing routine in his Superman outfit. Our hunch was that that would bring the house down. Only Gus would know that Grant was going to transform into Superman for the posing exhibition. We knew Gus would want to see “the goods” first. So, fast forward, and we’re in Gus’ office and Grant says he’d like some privacy to make some changes from his always skimpy and tight shorts and wife beater shirt to his “outfit.” He wanted to surprise Gus. Of course, just before that, when we entered, the guys just went nuts welcoming us, coming up to Grant and being completely uninhibited about feeling up his muscles and package. They were gushing in their compliments about how good he looked and how glad they were that he had come back. In the meantime, Gus said fine to Grant using his office and he and I left Grant alone. Gus peppered me with questions about what Grant had in mind and I said he’d see in a few moments. So the other muscle men in the gym were kept in the dark, Grant called Gus and me back into Gus’s office. There was Superman, basking in the bright sun streaming thru the windows, and looking every bit the extraordinary, massive, handsome, cut, and vascular god that he is – only with his spectacular yellow and red emblem on his tight blue top, with a yellow belt, super tight red trunks, skin tight blue “leotards”, shiny red boots, and the huge flowing red cape that made him look incredibly sexy. He was in a “relaxed” pose (if there really is such a thing) with his hands on his hips. Gus was completely beside himself in shock and disbelief. “Fuck, Grant, you are absolutely astounding…breathtaking…what an unbelievable transformation into a real live Superman. God, you are so fuckin’ massive, built, and sexy anyways, and this outfit just jumps your wattage up 10 times, if that is even possible” he exclaimed with unabashed enthusiasm. “Yeah, man, we thought you’d like it,” gushed Grant. “Here are a few poses to bring it home.” Superman then proceeded to give us a private posing session that left both Gus and me completely overwhelmed and turned on big-time. Superman -- Grant just has that way about him. Massive double-biceps with peaks. Vascular forearms the size of a man’s head. A huge pec shelf that pushed the limit on the outfit. Tits the size of large peanuts. Traps, his signature body-part, that make even the most winning competition musclemen cry with envy. Two sets of three delts fully striated and showing completely through the blue fabric. A set of quads and calves that are so huge and so defined that they are twice what even the most developed body-builders can ever hope for. And, fuck, his huge package, wrapped in the red trunks. As always, his V-shape was unheard of, it was so dramatic. And, god, he smiles all the time and completely brings his audience – including the two of us -- into his display of super massive hyper-masculinity. In a word, he was an astounding sight to behold. Gus was so excited he could hardly get his words out. And, being the master promoter that he is, he instantly had all sorts of ideas about how to make Grant’s exhibition the cornerstone of the whole competition. After some careful talk between Grant and me, we agreed Gus could use Grant’s Superman picture on posters and advertising. That would definitely draw the crowds. We agreed on a basic contract. We talked about how Gus could set up some elaborate staging to make Grant’s stage entrance as Superman as tension-building, mysterious, and eye-popping as possible. Fuck, this was going to be exciting. Neither Gus nor I wanted to leave the office and, instead, wanted to gawk and watch Grant extricate himself from his sleek, tight, and sexy outfit. We got to see all his massive and cut naked body in action while he did just that. It was equally cool to see him jam himself into his cutoffs and take that thread of a t-shirt and drape it over his shoulders and pecs…nipples showing prominently. That was quite a treat, especially for Gus who was clearly getting really horny and attracted to Grant in a very personal way. That just goes with the territory for Grant…now Superman for Gus. More planning conversations would follow but the die was cast. Superman – like folks have never seen Superman -- was gonna be in town in a few weeks. The men, as we were leaving and saying our goodbyes, were still thrilled that Grant was there and demanded that he come back and work out with them. He said “absolutely.” They also invited him to the physique show. We said “sure” to that, too. Little did they know. While driving home, it was clear we were both more than a little nervous about having Superman become public. Yet, we both wanted the thrill and joy of sharing him with the world. He wanted that for himself, especially. We just didn’t want our own private little world to get too taken over by what could be an onslaught of muscle-worshippers, media, and Superman fanatics. Unfortunately, we didn’t have any answers for those important questions, yet. As always, I couldn’t keep my right hand off his massive quad and I loved exploring the amazing contours and striations of a myriad of his flexed quad muscles. I also had to get my hand down into his bulging package and squeeze his huge cock and balls at the stop lights. He got hard quick. A Somewhat Violent Diversion Superman was back in his outfit for dinner. God, I loved it. He was so proud. I was so proud. He flipped his cape around to great effect…making sweeping statements of control and power with it that only he could make. Needless to say, I got easily distracted from making dinner, especially when he came up behind me and jammed his massive whole body and hard cock into my back. I loved it when he nuzzled and kissed me on the neck, and licked my neck hairs. Even the most subtle touches by him could be so fucking sexual and arouse me to no end. We decided we wanted to go out tonight. I caught myself by surprise by suggesting we might have some “fun” visiting the big biker bar in town. It was famous for leather and lots of muscle. It was also famous for being really homophobic. I’d been there a few times minding my own business and just barely escaped with myself in tact. Grant liked the idea, explaining that he had watched me for years be treated with terrible disrespect and verbal abuse at this place. He’d been pissed that I had even taken such risks completely alone and gone, and even more pissed that I got treated so badly. “I think I’m in the mood for putting some of these jerks, assholes, and meatheads in their place. Bang a few heads. Maybe twist a few arms. Show them what gay muscle power really looks like,” he said adamantly. I was surprised to hear this from him. This was a side of him I hadn’t seen. Yet, there was a part of me that wanted to go back, watch him take on a few muscle hot heads, and protect me, at the same time. I realized that I had never had anyone in my life care enough to protect me in any way, let alone the way Grant had started to do. He knew full well that his short muscle shorts and skimpy t-shirt would provoke these guys. He didn’t care. I dressed in my jeans and a tight polo shirt. We both looked pretty gay in our own very different ways. “Oh shit, we could be in big trouble,” I said as we pulled into the pot-holed parking lot. I’d never seen so many huge bikes and massive trucks. “No sweat, Paul. I can handle whatever anybody wants to dish out and give it back even better,” he exclaimed confidently. God, I loved his bravado and I knew he was right. The huge bouncer at the front door looked us over with a sneer and spit on the ground in front of us. I thought “Welcome Grant and Paul.” “Watch yourselves…we’re not into queers here,” he growled. He certainly had our number. In we went anyways. The place was really noisy, dark, smoky, and filled with big muscle men in leather outfits or white t-shirts. Some had lumberjack shirts on, as well. We went up to the crowded bar and nobody would move to let us get to the bartender. Grant, using his full size and power, just pushed his way through the men, not even apologizing. I was definitely seeing another side of Grant. A bunch of guys pulled away and had looks of shock and “what the fuck” on their faces when they saw the height, width and muscle mass of Grant. We got our drinks and moved over to a place near a wall to check things out. I was a little scared yet very proud to be with my partner, my massive monster of a partner, especially in this kind of place. Almost immediately two really big guys, though not anywhere near Grant’s size, came over and stood right in front of us. They were into intimidation. “What brings you two faggots to our place on this lovely evening?” said one sarcastically. He was covered in leather that also covered some pretty big muscles. His thick wide mustache made him look even more intimidating. “Just here for a beer. New to town. Heard this was a friendly place,” commented Grant casually. “Well, friendly, yes…but not to faggots. Fuck man, though I’ve never seen a man as well built as you, I also don’t much cotton to guys wearing short shorts and t-shirts just to show off their steroid muscles. That’s way too gay for us. And your friend here looks like he just stepped out of a preppy boy catalogue,” he added disdainfully. “He’s my partner,” Grant shot back instantly. “Whatever you say daddy,” added the big man even more sarcastically. For the moment, Grant did not respond. I followed his lead, even though I was stunned at what I was hearing from this guy. “We’re not lookin’ for any trouble man…just want to be left alone and enjoy the scenery,” emphasized Grant in his deepest and most authoritative bass voice. I kept moving closer and closer to Grant. Had we been anywhere else I would have wanted to hold his hand -- not so much as a statement, but out of fear. The other guy said, “We ain’t scenery for the likes of you…you can get that kind of scenery at night down at the park in the bushes. So, why don’t you two just put your beers down, and hustle your asses out the way you came in and go down to the park?” said the guy. “Nope. Not doing that tonight, my friend,” stated Grant. “I’m not your friend, asshole – though you might like me to be in more ways then one – especially with my big thick cock” the guy added with more sarcasm. “Well I guess we’ll just have to escort you two out whether you like it or not. Grab the little twink Sam. I’ll handle the big guy,” he instructed. That was all it took for Grant to literally rip the big guy’s hand off Grant’s huge forearm and twist it hard just for the effect. The guy yelped and said, “God damn you, you son of a bitch! Who do you think you are?” “Who do you think you are?” countered Grant. “My partner and I have as much right to be here as you do. You and your friends will never get past me. I have more muscles and moves than 10 of you have together,” announced Grant defiantly. “We’re here and we’re queer. Get over it!” he added loudly and proudly. We might as well been back in the 70’s when all the anti-gay conflict was rampant. I was very intimidated, scared and excited to see Grant make promises he could definitely deliver on…even though these asshole bullies didn’t know it, yet. Battle of the Big Guns “Well, since you want it that way, we settle things around here a lot of different ways. One way with guys that have a lot of muscle like you, is to have some serious arm wrestling contests. Not one, but at least three. You gotta beat all three of us or you’re out the door,” he announced with equal authoritatively. A crowd of big leather guys had gathered around us and cheered the announcement of the contest. Grant and I looked at each other with big smiles. The big guy instantly saw that and took offense. “Looks like you’re pretty cocky. Think that all those show muscles can handle real men that always win their contests?” he said loudly so the crowd could hear him. The crowd, clearly not in Grant’s corner, murmured lots of assent and encouragement. “Not cocky, just very strong, my friend. Line your men up and I’ll take them on one at a time. No problem for me though they may be disappointed when they lose or even get hurt,” Grant stated emphatically. “You may be a faggot, man, but I like your spirit. We got some proven muscle here…men that don’t loose…especially to showmen like your type,” the big guy asserted. Since this contest was evidently a frequent “rite of passage” at this bar, a very sturdy table was already set up at standing height with the requisite arm pads. The bartender came over to serve as referee. “Hey Tiny,” the big guy hollered, “Why don’t you show this fag what real strength is?” said the big guy. Out from the crowd came another very big guy wearing a leather vest and sporting plenty of bulging arm muscle and a huge beer gut. Very hairy and very intimidating. Still, Grant was much taller, much bigger and, of course, carrying a hell of a lot of more muscle mass then Tiny. Tiny showed no fear as he came up to the table and faced the very tall Grant, who had to lean over to get his elbow down on the bench’s surface. The bartender went through the rules and both the monster and my Grant jostled back and forth to get the best possible elbow and entwined fist position. Grant looked over at me and gave me a quick confident smile. Oh fuck, Tiny had no idea what he had gotten himself into. The moment the countdown ended, Tiny put his whole body into overdrive in an attempt to quickly catch Grant off guard. It didn’t work. Grant’s massive and vascular arm didn’t budge an inch. Yet his arms and shoulders began to explode in a pump and vascularity that, as best I could tell, took the audience by surprise. I think Grant was doing that for show. This was really kids work for him. No exertion required. Tiny tried again. No go. “Hey, Tiny, is that all you got?” taunted Grant. I couldn’t believe Grant was talking that way. Tiny got visibly angry and tried to force a power pin. Again, Grant didn’t move an inch. Instead, Grant started very slowly to muscle Tiny’s big arm to move in the “wrong” direction for Tiny. Tiny fought back to no avail. Grant kept up the unrelenting pressure and did it so casually. Then, wham, Tiny’s arm was flat on the bench. Dead silence in the room. Mutters of “fuck,” “holy shit,” “where’d this guy come from?” rippled through the audience that had gathered real tight around the bench. In an amazing display of more bravado, Grant announced, “Ok, you guys said you had at least three “real men”. Bring on the next one, and he better be stronger.” Tiny pulled away in shock, rubbing his arm. He clearly had given everything he had and had strained both his arm and shoulder. He couldn’t look Grant in the face, let alone congratulate him. Grant shook his arms out and waited. Another behemoth, much bigger than Tiny, came forward and the crowd cleared the way for him. God, what an ugly looking guy, but covered in massive muscles, lots of body hair, and a mop of unruly hair on his head. He looked sorta like a crazy man. His eyes were on fire. He was on a mission to teach faggot Grant a lesson and repair the image damage that Tiny’s loss to Grant had inflicted on the whole group. Talk about nasty mob psychology! “I’ve won 95% of all the contests I’ve entered, Mr. Muscleman. And I sure as hell don’t intend to loose to an underdressed muscle showman like you,” he announced. Grant said, “Well, I don’t intend to loose to you either. Besides, I hunch you’ve got more fat there than real muscle in that big body of your’s.” The crowd reacted with a cat calls and feigned fear at Grant’s insult. The guy didn’t let himself get rattled. He just leaned in and challenged Grant to get his arm up and be ready for getting a broken arm. Grant just smiled and took the position. He was still so damn big compared to these other guys. Suddenly, the big guy stopped the count and told the referee that Grant was moving and repositioning his wrist after the count had started. Of course, Grant had done no such thing. This was all a distraction. Part of his strategy to unnerve Grant. What a waste of energy that was. “Okay, you fruit loop, show me what you got in those muscles of your’s,” he taunted. Grant stayed silent. Like Tiny, this guy could not get Grant to move his arm no matter how much power he put into it. Yet, Grant, just playing with the guy, let the guy take a couple of inches and the leverage edge for just a moment. The guy smiled big thru his grimace. Just when he was feeling sure he was taking Grant down, Grant simply started to push back and back. The guy was in shock. “Surprised now are you?” Grant asked sarcastically. “Want to see what else these muscles of mine can do?” he continued with an air of supreme and justifiable confidence. Grant continued the onslaught and the guy was clearly losing his control and his confidence. “Fuck, fuck..what’s going on here?” the guy demanded. Grant just said, “I’m winning and you’re losing. How does it feel big guy?” The guy, not willing to concede, redoubled his efforts to get back at least to the starting position. That great effort, much to everyone’s surprise, produced an arm muscle seizure and he lost all power and down he went. Grant said, “Well, that’s just part of taking on someone stronger than you, my friend.” Grant was a master at putting these guys in their place. Like Tiny before him, the guy had to quickly massage his arm, getting help from his friends, to reduce the excruciating pain. He was clearly extremely angry – probably at himself and no doubt at Grant. Two down, two wins for Grant, and one to go. Grant was establishing himself as the king of tonight’s arm-wrestling -- yet nobody was anywhere near ready to say that out loud or congratulate him. Feeling like his manager, I came over to Grant and massaged his arm, whispering words of encouragement and pride. Of course, he really didn’t need his arm massaged. We were just being a good team in the face of macho muscle jerks. It’s Time for Posing “Okay, if I win this last contest, I want you all to buy drinks for my partner and me,” announced Grant. There was some agreement yet still a lot of resistance to the mere thought of “welcoming” us. Oh fuck, I damn near blew a load when this third monster stepped up. Clearly the group had been saving him for the last. A kind of insurance, I guess. He was a walking massive wet dream. Though not as big as Grant, he had mountains of muscle that just bulged so naturally through his t-shirt and very tight jeans. I couldn’t tell if he was a power-lifter or a super-heavyweight bodybuilder or both. Probably both, given both his mass and cuts. And, like a good gay guy, my eyes went straight to the guy’s package, which was absolutely huge. His big thick cock was running down the inseam of his right leg for all to see. Guess it was his “calling card.” Handsome in a very rugged way. Huge traps and deltoids. Massive arms with thick veins. And a hairy chest that truly was a shelf, and it wasn’t even flexed. Like Grant, he was wearing a trademark spaghetti strap t-shirt. His smile rivaled Grant’s in confidence. “My name is Nate. What’s yours big guy?” asked Nate. “Grant,” Grant responded. “I guess you’re new to town. Haven’t seen you around any of the gyms or here at our bar before,” he said dripping with false friendliness. “What you say we give these guys what they really want and compare double bicep poses?” he asked with an open invitation to “take Grant down” on arm size. Big mistake. “Sure,” said Grant with his always in tact confidence. The men cleared a space and Nate and Grant took to the center of the bar, where most of the good lighting was. Guys moved around to get in front. I saw a few men already begin to massage their ample packages. Nothing like muscles to trigger a big surge of a man’s testosterone. And, in a group like this, the testosterone surges just feed one on the other. “Okay guys,” said the referee, “Fire them up. Use the pumps for the warm up. Give us your best pump and keep pumping until we declare a winner,” instructed the referee. Fuck, it was a mind-blower. Both muscle gods started out looking strikingly similar. Huge biceps. Triceps like hams. Vascular forearms. Huge and cut traps and delts. I wondered if Grant might actually be outdone by Nate. While both were smiling, Nate was clearly feeling that he was taking Grant down. Nate took in deep breaths and redoubled his pump. His vascularity exploded and a second peak on his set of biceps appeared. Shit. The guy was awesome – just so fuckin’ massive. Grant, on the other hand, was being very methodical. I’d seen him do this at the gym weeks ago and knew he had a damn near unlimited capacity to expand and grow to proportions unheard of among muscle men and body-builders no matter what their build. I was just wondering why he was taking so long. He had a strategy, of course. As Nate struggled and sweated to hold his pump, Grant started pumping and pumping and pumping even more. His already massive muscles just expanded like balloons covered in a dizzying map of veins, striations, and tendons. He was absolutely huge. It was like he was building himself into a morph we’d see on the internet. His second bicep peak on both biceps put Nate’s to shame. I was really getting excited for Grant. His triceps had astounding size and vascularity. His forearms were a mass of muscle, tendons, veins and had huge circumferences….clearly much much bigger than anyone else’s in the bar, including the power lifters. Finally, the guys started whooping and hollering for more of Grant. To a man, they had never had seen a hyper-masculine body-builder of Grant’s proportions. Nate was nothing to sneeze at, but he couldn’t hold a candle to Grant. Exhausted from multiple pumps and holding them while Grant was building to his, he finally had to let his arms drop to his sides – though thrust out to accommodate the expanse of his huge lats. Grant kept his going, dancing his fingers, forearm, and biceps like he was doing a muscle ballet. Like the muscle heads back at the gym, these guys couldn’t keep their hands off their bulging crotches and hard cocks. Grant was turning them on…really turning them on…and they had no embarrassment about that whatsoever. Fuck, I do like that about musclemen with other musclemen. When they want to be, they can be so sexually excited and appreciative. The cheers for Grant were non-stop. He has passed the test. We were finally “welcomed”. All because of Grant. The referee announced that a third arm-wrestling contest was not necessary because Grant had met and exceeded the posing challenge from Nate. More cheers for Grant. He acknowledged those cheers with a massive back lat spread, a front lat spread unseen among men, and a mind-boggling cock-hardening most muscular that drew loud gasps, cheers, and “whoops” from the men. From Homophobia to Kudos What a change. The guys just swarmed around Grant. They demanded he pose some more as they ran their hands all over his massive body. He enthusiastically obliged them. They fought for positions, both front and back, to not miss feeling up each flex. I loved how a few of them really got bold and started grabbing at Grant’s big package. His now very hard cock was just about coming out the bottom of his tight shorts. The men that had challenged us with verbal bullying and challenged Grant to arm-wrestling, were very much in the background, nursing their self-inflicted psychological wounds. They were quite alone. The bartender announced that drinks were on the house. The guys couldn’t stop getting them for us. We had to be careful to not overdo the drinking. I was equally impressed with the guys that came up to me with all sorts of questions about what it was like to be Grant’s partner. So much for homophobia. I know many had an agenda about what our sex life was like. I had no problem telling them how Grant’s strength was a huge turn-on for us, making for a very passionate and creative sex life. They loved hearing about that. They wanted Grant for themselves. They wanted Grant the way I “had” him. Both of us got plenty of questions about Grant’s availability for private posing sessions and muscle-worshipping sessions that night, or any other night for that matter. We were polite and just told the guys we’d give it some thought. We both had gotten used to dodging the questions about where we came from and our backgrounds. Nobody seemed any the wiser. They were just thrilled that Grant (and maybe me) were one of them. I made a mental note to make sure to ask Gus to get the upcoming physique contest posters up in this place. These guys would show up as small army in the auditorium to see “Grant” again. Little did they know who was really going to “show up” on stage. The Posing Goes to the Next Level The evening wasn’t quite done yet. These guys just couldn’t get enough of Grant. So a few guys organized a posing exhibition on a small platform at the back of the bar. While Grant would be the star, a bunch of other body-builder guys stripped down to their jock straps and briefs. Some were massive super-heavyweights and some were middle-weights with amazing definition. All took turns showing off their best poses. Grant was pushed up on stage, took off his spaghetti t-shirt, yet left his shorts on with his cock head sticking out his left leg. His short shorts could not possibly hide his huge and very sexy package. The same was true for some of the other muscle men. Grant was completely into the scene and was inspired to give a posing exhibition that made many of the men ejaculate big time. The “show” was also as much about their respective baskets or packages and blatantly showing their hidden endowments, as it was about their not insignificant muscles. Not the kind of thing you’d see at a physique show. Yet it certainly would happen back stage at physique shows and in the privacy of the competitor’s, promoters, and sponsors hotel rooms. My fantasies started like crazy with that thought…and what could happen at the upcoming physique show and afterwards. Fuck, I do love muscle men that know how to really get it on with each other. Grant is a master instigator of those scenes…an absolute master. The best part was when another competition started…one that blew my mind. A couple of really big and beautifully built guys decided to face-off, very close, and start posing – challenging each other pose for pose, face to face. The unspoken intent was to visibly turn the other on. That is, to make the other guy hard and get his cock to either pop out of his jockstrap or briefs or, better yet, have an orgasm right in the moment. God, they started jamming their big baskets into each other, while posing, trying to provoke the other muscle god into getting hard. They’d push and prod their ample packages to get the other guy’s cock harder and more visible. The sweat pouring off them brought many of their cocks into near transparency thru the wet (pre-cum and sweat-soaked) fabric. It was a visual feast with all the guys inspiring the others to do the same. More glorious group psychology. (I used to be a psych major) A lot of guys went after Grant. However, since he was so tall, his basket was out of reach of the basket of most others. Given that turned-on muscle men are turned-on muscle men, they would make up for that and just start grabbing, massaging, and pushing at each other’s packages and equipment, Grant’s included. Some went right for Grant’s goods and jammed their hands down into his shorts and had a field day. Grant ate it up…inspiring even more posing…his stunning most muscular always got things hot. Once I realized everybody was in on this unbelievable scene, I stripped off my jeans and polo-shirt and put my new big cock into the game as well. Fuck, what a great feeling it was to have many of these muscle men want to dominate me and worship my small but muscular body. I’d forgotten some musclemen just are really into smaller men. Many of them went after my tight and defined body with a vengeance. Fuck, what a great feeling that was. My hard cock matched up with the rest of them…no problem. As the evening got late, some of the guys were leaving – often with one another. The free drinks had everybody more than lubricated. They all came up to Grant and me and each, in their own way, told us how glad they were that we had come. Some even apologized for being jerks when we arrived. As they did this, almost all of them copped another feel of Grant’s muscles. They evidently wanted memories to jack off to that night and for nights to come. He continued to get propositioned for quite a few overnights that night. Grant gave ‘em what they wanted with a big smile, yet politely defined the invitations. The bartender came up to us and was especially gracious. He said we had a standing invitation to come any time and suggested that Grant think about doing regular posing exhibitions. Clearly, it was very good for his business. I kept thinking about how we were gonna deal with Grant being Superman, too. Fuck, that would really blow their minds. Grant’s skimpy t-shirt was lost somewhere on the floor, but that didn’t matter. I found my jeans and shirt on the floor, though plenty mangled and dirty. Hell, I think they had cum on them from god knows who. We got in my car, took in a deep breath. I told Grant how very proud I was of him and his willingness to take a stand for us right at the start of the evening and put those guys in their place. He said he was glad it didn’t get any rougher verbally or physically. It’s just not his style. We both laughed our asses off when we recalled Nate’s challenge to Grant for a double-bicep posedown. Grant, even in my small car, put up a double-bi, and kissed and thanked “his babies.” We both laughed again. When we got home, I again asked Grant to don his Superman outfit. As always, I had the honor of “helping” him get into it. Holy shit, what a man, what a god. This outfit just got me so damn turned on I knew I had to get him into bed and get myself wrapped, once again, in his big red beautiful cape. Who knows what would happen next. As we drifted off to sleep, nuzzled and wrapped together, we talked about what his upcoming posing exhibition could mean for him and us – for better or for worse. Last I remember thinking was seeing him in my mind come slowly down the stairs at the center of the stage – his cape flying in the wind from the wind machine -- surrounded in mist, to the music of “Also Sprach Zarathustra” (“2001 Space Odyssey” theme). In my dream like state, he was totally pumped to the max. His whole Superman outfit was really lit up with the bright spot lights. He was glowing more than usual. It was just natural for him…no tanning necessary. His arms would hang way out over his huge lats. His stunning V-shape would cause men to get hard. His body was simply a mass of huge and extremely proportionate bulging muscle. And his huge package would be strategically arranged for maximum visual and sexual impact. He’d own the auditorium completely. The crowds would be on their screaming and stamping their feet. The deafening applause would not stop. In a highly unusual and mysterious way, Superman was now on planet Earth. He’d slowly come down off the stage and start moving around among the audience members, meeting their deeply held desire to touch and feel him…to make sure he was real. They’d have wet dreams for life. Feedback welcomed. No flames please. Copyright © [email protected] Part X – “At the Physique Show and Back In The Hotel Rooms” to follow

Just another warning/reminder that there's some "weird" stuff here: bodybuilders birthing bodybuilders out of their nutsacks and violent sex scenes/language/imagery. Enjoy! -------- Each time a new muscle baby had been born into the room in a pool of ejaculate they were taken backstage, shaved and tanned appropriately, for showing off during the progeny round. This round basically reflected the results of the domination round, in that it ranked competitors based on the quality of their muscle babies that had been birthed in the show. The victor of the domination round had surprisingly been Martin, who, spurred on by his defeat of the gigantic Wyman, had scored a full 119 points, having pinned down, penetrated and deposited a muscle baby in every one the evening's finalists. In second place was Wyman, who had scored 17 points with every competitor except Martin, who you remember overcame him after being unsuccessfully pinned down. The top three performing men were called out; Wyman, Martin and Chen Xiao, who had produced four muscle babies that night. They were each followed by their muscle children onto the stage, once gain dressed in the respectful black speedo that was the equivalent of black tie at these events. The muscle babes were all roughly the same height, around 7', although they would continue growing for quite a long time, with the exception of the vascular, ripped beast birthed to Wyman by Jean Marie, who having accelerated his growth at an unbelievable rate now stood sixteen feet and eight inches tall, his head touching the banner that hung from the roof of the vault. It was the first time in history that a muscle baby had exceeded its father's height in such a short space of time, and he was even larger than the dozens of Wyman's other muscle babies that sat in the audience. He had been weighed earlier at 2100 pounds, and now that the thick mainly hair had been removed from all over is body his incredible definition showed. The grooves between each of is abdominal muscles were deep enough to run a finger through and his chest was the size of a car, inflated to twice its size when he inhaled. He never stopped panting and sweating, and within minutes of his all over shaved thick patches of sweaty hair had already reformed under his massive arms that rested almost at 90 degrees due to the vast, sweeping lats that exploded from the side of his body. The hormones that Wyman fed himself in abundance had been even more strongly transmitted to his muscle baby to the end that whilst everybody else on the stage was dressed in their regulation speedo, he was fully nude as he simply never ceased to masturbate. The power of is sex drive was such that his erection was constant, and his cock so heavy that it hung down even when erect. Assistants on the stage were given instruction to constantly be pumping the huge nine foot long cock to prevent his balls from swelling up. Every two or three minutes his abdominals would begin to pulsate rhythmically and a deep moan filled the stage as two thousand litres of cum poured out of the giants balls. The scoring of this round was a foregone conclusion- the presence of this one muscle baby that had surpassed all known norms and expectations granted Wyman a certain win. Whilst Wyman's muscle babies all had the angry, fierce and chiseled face and strong rugged jaw of their father, Martin's were far more handsome and had delicate features, a small nose, long eyelashes and beautiful green eyes like him. Their body hair was very light brown and a huge tuft stuck out over their speedos. I looked forward to meeting them all and worshipping those bodies. However there was one thing I wanted that was purely for myself. Ever since seeing the massive muscle baby of Wyman's suck up the semen from the ground and grow at such a stupendous rate, I was desperate to do the same. Clearly the high-testosterone hormones in Wyman's semen had caused this, and I figured in the muscle baby’s semen the level would be even higher. The audience had dwindled to around fifteen people- the rest had exhausted themselves fucking during the domination round. So I took advantage of this opportunity to get down on the ground and drink as much of the muscle babies jizz as I could in the interval as the muscle babies were escorted off the stage. I filled my water bottle, again, and again, and again. I had drunk eight litres of the 22,000 that had been spilt, and my stomach began to bloat, enough is enough for now, I figured, and went to the bathroom. Whilst in there I encountered Jean Marie, the extremely handsome French bodybuilder who, after being almost ripped apart by Wyman's muscle baby, had birthed two more on behalf of Chen Xiao and Martin. He seemed close to passing out, but was polite and friendly, and I confided in him my theory regarding the muscle baby cum. He seemed open to the idea of ingesting some but was not lucid enough to engage in real conversation. He sat down opposite the wash basin, his massive cock and balls slumping down to the ground, weighing down their latex prison and invited me to sit next to him. My immersion into this underground bodybuilding world had only started a couple of months prior, and I was still a nube weighing only 420 pounds at 6"8, but I suspected that Jean Marie was happy for some company that was not likely to overpower and fuck him to the point of near death. He held me in his big strong arms and both our cocks rose to their full glory as we began to massage each other and slide into blissful orgasm, covering ourselves in gallons of hot creamy seed. He licked some from the tip of my cock as it continued to pour out, his rugged facial hair becoming matted in my sticky man juice. As we rested for a moment, Mustafa ran into the bathroom, totally unsurprised by what he saw to inform us that Wyman's big muscle baby had begun to spasm uncontrollably after having gown to beyond thirty feet tall, weighing in at 6430 pounds and that he had had to be tranquilised with drugs intended for whales. He was effectively dead now, as without consciousness there was no way for him to recover from this state. Mustafa ran out as he had taken it upon himself to spread this very unusual news. I smiled and began to laugh, and Jean Marie asked me why I was so amused. "You see, the muscle baby you birthed is now dead, and the only person who consumed his cum, full of those magical growth hormones, before it was too late, is me! My hormone makeup is changing as we speak, I can feel it, and I'm going to become the biggest man that ever lived! Let's go see what's happening to that baby!" I said, grabbing the Frenchman’s hand and running out of the bathroom.