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  1. Hey everyone! This is the first chapter in a story that I’m in the middle of writing. All feedback is welcome, but keep in mind that this is the first story that I have decided to make public, so be gentle Let me know if you want to see more! Chapter 1 “Is there anything left in the trunk?” Nico yelled to his mom from inside the house. “No, it looks like we got everything!” she called back. “Finally!” Nico said with a relieved sigh as he sank down onto the couch. He propped his legs up on the coffee table, leaned back, and took a deep breath, relishing the salty smell of the ocean that was wafting in through the open door; it had been too long since he and his mother had visited their beach house. They used to go every summer but had rented it out for the past four years to help cover Nico’s college tuition. Now that he had just graduated though, they could finally enjoy it themselves again. As Nico’s mom came back into the house and started carrying her bags to her bedroom, Nico’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw that he had received a text from his friend Will. Hey, I saw you and your mom drive up a few minutes ago; do you want to come over to my place and hang out? A broad grin stretched across Nico’s face as he hurriedly typed out his response. Sure! I’ll be there in a second! As soon as he hit send, Nico sprang up from the couch. “Mom!” he shouted. “I’m going over to see Will!” And without waiting for a response, he ran out the door. Nico had been excited to come back to the beach house for a lot of reasons. But the most important of those reasons had been Will. Nico met him for the first time twelve years ago when Will’s family bought the beach house across the street from his. There weren’t very many other kids their age in the neighborhood at the time, so it was inevitable that the two boys would end up spending lots of time together, and they eventually became very close friends. For the next eight years, Nico and Will spent their summers practically joined at the hip; they filled their days playing volleyball on the beach, racing each other through the ocean, and doing many other, usually competitive, activities. Part of the reason Nico enjoyed spending time with Will so much was admittedly that Nico pretty much always won regardless of what the contest was; he was two years old than Will, which gave him an advantage in strength and speed that Will always had trouble overcoming. However, Will always accepted his losses with grace and even took Nico’s playful teasing in stride. As Nico walked up to Will’s house and rang the doorbell, he felt his stomach twisting into knots of excited anticipation. It was strange to think that four whole years had passed since they had last seen each other; he could picture Will as if he had just seen him yesterday. At any second, he would be greeted by the sight of a skinny guy with wavy blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a radiant smile that could cheer him up even on his worst days. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Nico’s mouth fell open in shock. The guy standing in front of him was not the Will that Nico remembered from four years ago. Sure, his face was the same, and his smile was just as radiant as ever, but that was where the similarities stopped. Gone was the small, skinny guy Nico had once known, replaced by a tall young man with a powerful, muscular build. His once narrow shoulders had widened, his chest broadened, and his arms thickened. The tight t-shirt he was wearing looked almost as if it were begging for mercy from the incredible muscles it was struggling to contain; the fabric was stretched taut against a pair of firm pecs, and the sleeves just barely covered a few inches of his bulging biceps. “Nico!” Will exclaimed with a beaming grin and then pulled him into a bruising bear-hug. Nico felt all of the air rush out of his lungs as a pair of muscular arms crushed his ribcage and pressed him against the firmest torso he had ever felt in his life. He made a feeble attempt to return the hug, but found that his arms could barely reach around the wide expanse of rippling muscle that was Will’s back. It felt like Will would never let him go; Nico was beginning to feel dizzy from the lack of oxygen. He tried to extricate himself from the embrace, but Will was astonishingly strong; it felt like his body was made of steel. Nico was completely immobilized and helpless. Just as Nico felt himself beginning to lose consciousness, Will released him. The moment he was free, he collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. “Oh, shit!” Will said, kneeling down and putting his hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Nico, what’s wrong?” Nico shook his head but was unable to reply through his panting and coughing. After a few seconds, he had recovered enough to say, “That hug . . . cough . . . was pretty tight.” “Oh,” Will said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head and causing one of his biceps to swell to the size of a grapefruit. “Sorry about that. Didn’t realize I was crushing you.” “It’s okay,” Nico said with a nervous laugh, getting shakily back to his feet. “I’m fine now.” “Are you sure?” Will asked, still concerned. “Do you want me to get you some water?” “No, I’m okay. Really,” Nico repeated more confidently this time, trying to stand up straight and not wince at the pain of his probably bruised ribs. “Alright, if you’re sure” Will said reluctantly. “Come on; let’s get you inside.” He put an arm around Nico and gently steered him into the house.
  2. Neverstopgrowing

    m/m The Sygil ( a new way to grow)

    Hey guys. Let me know what you think! Its a work in progress but I think this will set up for a good story. Aaron looked down at me while he was riding me. “Ok Tim, do you see our sygils on our chests.” He said with a devilish grin. “yes I do babe.” I grunted back feeling my cock getting thicker by the moment in his ass. “Oh fuck babe keep edging. I want you to picture yourself. 10 ft tall. Taller than every man ever. Muscular. So fucking huge and muscular. Grown men will only come up to your waist. You will be so muscular that you can lift the reigning mr. Olympia like a toy.” I saw a glint in his eye as I felt my self getting closer and closer to exploding inside him. It’s always been mine and my partners dream to become the biggest men to ever exist. Now when I say biggest I don’t mean just like a large man. Good example. You know ron swanson when he says “bring me all the eggs and bacon you have….. wait What you heard me say is “I want a lot of eggs and bacon”. What I said was bring ALL the eggs and bacon you have.” So now with becoming the biggest men to ever exist. I mean it. I want to be 10ft tall over 600lbs just a fucking goliath of a man. I want grown men to only come up to my waist. So Erin and I are combining forces to make this a reality. We are taking a scientific approach and a magic approach. Hence why Aaron just said focus on the sygil. I look to my right and see the moon gazing down upon the pastures. I look down at my now 5’9 230lb body. I look up at my beautiful man. “I’m ready to accept this growth. I’m ready to be your massive growing daddy. I am ready to accept all this power for good and serve you boy.” With this Aaron began leaking as I watched his tone muscular body begin to quiver. I felt my cock thicken again getting ready to shoot him full of my muscle growth cum. “ WE WANT TO BECOME THE BIGGEST TITANS EVER TO EXIST.” And with that we both came. Aaron all over my chest and me inside my boy. The next morning I woke up feeling alittle off. I was super tired. I stretched in bed and rolled over to see Aaron curled up as usual. He was sound asleep so I quickly got up and ran to the kitchen. I took all my supplements and downed a bang energy drink. Grabbed Aarons cold brew and then ran back to bed to give him the snuggles he enjoys every morning. The morning was as usual. We worked out. Took the dogs on a walk and then took our showers and got dressed. “fuck babe, your ass is HUGE!” Aaron said slapping hard. I chuckle to myself because I’m the top but I got the ass of a bottom for days. “I know babe. God damn these pants are tight! Remind me to let them air dry instead of the dryer next time.” I looked in the mirror and saw my buttons straining. Walked over to Aaron kissed and turned to put on my boots. “OH FUCK!” I screamed grabbing my leg. “Babe? Whats wrong?!” Aaron asked getting up to come check on me. “My leg babe it fucking hurts. Like bad.” Aaron’s eyes get all huge and he starts jumping up and down. “ITS HAPPENING!!! BABE YOU’RE GROWING!” I chuckle to myself “Maybe I am ya butthead but It fucking hurts!” he stops and looks at me concerned. “Wait did you take all your supplements?” I looked at him and smiled. “I did and I took the new one as well. I promised you I would become 10ft tall and the biggest bodybuilder to ever exist. It will happen. It is happening and Its happened.” I grunt and get up after putting my boots on. All day I feel my legs aching but other than that a normal work day. I eat all my meals. I get a text from Aaron. “babe….i’m growing too I can feel it. Lets push hard for work out tonight.” I hear a knock at the door and my employee comes in. “damn Tim you’ve been really working out hard havne’t you. You’re looking shredded.” I look at him confused. Shredded? I haven’t been cutting. Donny was a good looking dude and about 6’. I stand up and look at him.…..wtf. how am I above eye level with him.I’m staring directly at his hair line. “you ok tim?” OH god stop actin weird…. Oh fuck it’s the shoes. I laugh to myself again. “oh ya just forgot how tiny you were dude!” He laughs and drops off the paper work, then scuttles out of my office. I feel the throbbing return to my legs. Go and sit down. Grab my phone. I respond to Aaron. “babe has any one done a growth spell like this before?” I see the dot dot dot pop up. “not that I know of. Why?” I stop and think Oh fuck its happening. “Babe we need to measure ourselves to track our growth. Lets do that when we get home. I run to the store and grab some food but feeling hungrier than normal I fill a full shopping cart full of meat, veggies, and milk. I guess if we are growing I may need some protein. I run to GNC and as I run into the store I see the wannabe Jeff Seid at the counter. You know the shredded muscly twunk. I walk up and throw 5 tubs of protein on the counter and I look down at him. Wait….he was taller than me. The damn shoes. I gotta stop comparing. Although he is giving me a funny look. “So dude you competing soon?” He says looking up at me. Fuck….it is really hot that he’s looking up at me. “why do you ask?” I grunt. Ok also this twerp was a dick to me last time I came in so he better be nice to me this time around. His eyes widen staring at my bicep. “Uh dude you’re fukcing jacked as hell.” I hear something begin to tear and feel the sleeve on my arm being to get tighter and tighter. I look at him and see him adjust himself. “dude can you flex them? I haven’t seen any arms that big before you’re like a pro size.” I blush hard core and I raise my bicep up and flex. And dude let me tell you the next part shocked me as much as it shocked the little dude seid dude. We both stare as the sleeve rips down the center and this gargantuan bicep shreds out of it. I throw about 300 on the counter grab my protein and dart home. Holy shit what is happening to me? I gotta get to Aaron to see what are stats are!
  3. Who Am I? Chapter One I slam the heavy bar on to the rack, causing the metal weights to make a loud clanging sound that fills the gym. I slowly sit up and flex and relax my pumped pecs. It’s at that moment I see the guy across the gym. He’s about thirty feet away but I can clearly see he’s staring at me. I slowly move my hands together, causing my pecs to erupt. I’m wearing an over-sized stinger tank top that leaves very little to the imagination. Even from this distance, I know he can see my immense size. He has his phone out, like he’s pretending to look at the screen but in realty, looking at me. As I hit the flex, his arm slowly lowers, no longer able to keep up the charade. I relax the flex, stand up, grab two more 45 pound plates and slam them onto one side of the bar. I do the same to the other side. With an incomprehensible amount of weight on the bar, I lay back down and with barely a grunt, hoist it off the rack. As the bar grazes my blood-engorged pecs, I effortlessly lift it back up to the top of the rep. I complete eight perfect reps before slamming the bar down and sitting up. I’m breathing heavy and my pecs are on fire. I return my gaze across the gym only to find my admirer hasn’t moved an inch. His eyes are visibly wide as he marvels at my size and strength. Without trying to disguise what I’m doing, I slowly transition into a most muscular pose while making eye contact with my admirer. I feel every muscle on my upper body swell to insane proportions. I feel the once loose fabric of my tank stretch tight over my sweat-soaked skin. My incredibly pumped pecs inflate and as they come in contact with my chin, I can’t help but let out a low moan. My arms shake as I flex even harder, willing myself to pump up even bigger, every muscle tingles from the effort. I reach the pinnacle of the flex and moan again as each muscle group comes in contact with the other as they compete for space. I can’t see my reflection but know just how freaky I look. It at this moment the poor guy can no longer control himself. His body starts to jerk uncontrollably and his knees visibly go weak. A second later, a wet spot is clearly visible on the front of his shorts and he grabs hold of a nearby bench to stop himself from falling over. I release the pose and flash the guy a smile as he sprints towards the locker room. I start to chuckle as I slam another 45 pound plate on each side of the bar and continue my gruelling chest workout. --- I wasn’t always like this. In fact, only a few years ago, I would have been the guy staring at the roided out muscle freak from across the gym, unable to look away. If you had told me I would become the massive freak I am today back then, I would have laughed in your face or recoiled in disgust. I joined my first gym when I was 22. At the time, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. I stuck with it mainly because of the buff guys that frequented the gym, the bigger they became, the more I wanted to look like them. It took me six months to start seeing improvements. My once flat chest was now two hard, albeit small, mounds of pec meat. I had a thin vein running up my 13” bicep and if I flexed really hard, I could just make out a hint of tricep. I still remember how incredible it felt the day I reached 170lbs. It was around this time I met James. We met at the gym when he asked me to spot him. I remember thinking it was odd that he would ask me when there were countless other guys far more capable of helping him. He was about my size and build and we hit it off immediately. Soon we were regular workout partners and about a month later, James asked me out and I thought I had hit the jackpot, a cute guy that worked out. For the next six months we were inseparable, inside and outside the gym. Having a steady workout partner was amazing. Right away, I started to push myself harder during each workout and slowly my strength and weight started to increase. Two months after meeting James, I weighed 185lbs while remaining incredibly lean. I would find myself feeling my growing arms and running my hand over my hard, etched abs. James would joke that I was getting off on my own body. I would laugh it off but subconsciously, I was. With each pound I gained, I would secretly obsess about how much I desired more. In the beginning, I would only think these thoughts. I knew I was still tiny and skinny and it felt pathetic to admit my desires out loud. But that didn’t stop me from fantasying about it constantly. I started to follow physique models on social media, marvelling at their size and outrageous conditioning. That progressed to following classic competitors and eventually bodybuilders. I still remember the day I discovered some truly massive freaks. I stumbled upon the profile of a relatively well known bodybuilder, who’s name I cannot remember. My first instinct was to recoil in disgust but something made me scroll deeper down his feed. I felt my throat go dry as pictures of his bloated body moved past my eyes. I paused at a POW video of his pumped quads as he flexed and relaxed them. I audibly gagged as the thick veins erupted across his thin, paper-like skin. It wasn’t until I came across a picture of him shaking hands with a fan that my cock started to harden. I starred at that picture for a long time, trying to comprehend the comical difference in size. The bodybuilder dwarfed the other man in every way. Until that moment, I would have drooled over the other guy’s size but he suddenly looked puny by comparison. Something shifted in my head that day. I was consumed not just with muscle, but the biggest, freakiest muscular beasts on the planet. I followed their profiles, read articles about them and watched hours of videos. It became my whole world. I stopped watching porn and jerked off only to the most hardcore, roid-filled monsters. At the gym, I increased my intensity ten-fold. I started to push my body well past it’s limits. James was taken aback but supported my efforts. When he asked me what was happening, I would just reply that I wanted to look as good as possible for summer, while in my mind, I wanted only to grow. It wasn’t long until James could no longer keep up with me at the gym. We would start our workout together but he would quit after an hour while I continued for two to three more. It became a common site for James to witness me arriving home and collapsing at the front door, drenched in sweat and barely able to move. I think he tolerated it for as long as he did because my newfound dedication was paying off. I was adding more and more muscle and he was clearly turned on by my new size. I remember the day I reached 200lbs. I ran home from the gym and bust through the door yelling. “James! James!” “What?” “I hit 200lbs!” I screamed. James smiled and gave me a lustful look. “Wow, you are such a big stud.” I quickly lifted my tight t-shirt over my shoulders, pausing just long enough to relish the feeling of resistance my shoulders caused. The shirt had barely touched the floor before James was on me. His tiny hands caressed my rock-hard pecs and abs. I didn’t even have to flex to know he was amazed at how hard they felt. I placed my hands around his tight waist and without any effort, lifted him off the floor. I carried him to the bedroom, tossed him on the bed and whipped off my shorts. As my hands moved down my bulging thighs, I a moan as I flexed each quad, felling the growing muscles pulse under my hands. James licked his lips a the site of my pumped up body causing me to get even harder. I gripped his thin ankles and pulled him easily towards me. I slammed my hard cock into his ass with a level of aggression he wasn’t prepared for. “Ugh, not too rough!” he exclaimed. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and tried as a might, I could not look away. I was nowhere as big as I dreamed of being but I could not help but marvel at how muscular I was becoming. With my eyes fixated on my reflection, I started to ram my cock into Jame’s ass. He let out ecstatic moans with each thrust. The more I worked, the more swollen my body became. I looked down to see veins snaking up and down my pumped biceps. I looked back to the mirror and bent forward, placing my arms behind James’s back. With a grunt, I hoisted his 178lb body off the bed. He howled with delight as my cock slid further inside. I let out a primal roar as I watched my body swell to hold his body in mid air. Every muscle erupted and I started to maneuver James up and down my iron-hard cock. The sight in the mirror was the most incredible thing I had even seen. I could not believe I capable of doing what I was doing. I was lost in trance when James’ shouts brought me back to reality. “Fuck, STOP! You’re hurting me!” He screamed. I barely registered the fact that he was also pounding on my shoulders. I dropped him onto the bed and took a step back, breathing heavily. “What the FUCK Chad!” “James, are you ok?” I asked with worry in my voice. “Yeah I’m fine but what the FUCK was that Chad!” “I-I don’t know. I guess I got carried away.” I responded. “I’d say so.” James replied. I felt horrible for the rest of the day and apologized to James about a hundred times. After a day or two, he seemed to forget about the incident but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Every time I closed my eyes, I would see my reflection in the mirror. My bloated muscles easily manhandling James. The thick veins all over my body and the way my muscles flexed in unison. I would get hard within seconds and spend days covering my crotch whenever the memories flooded my mind. About a week later, I did my first real research on steroids. I had read about the side effects and dangers but I knew I needed them to continue to grow bigger. The more research I did, the more I wanted to take that plunge. It was at this time that I knew I had to share my desire to get huge with James. It was a few days later as we lay in bed after having harmless and admittedly timid sex that I decided to broach the subject. I was scrolling through Instagram and stopped on a picture of a famous physique model. He was considerable bigger than me but no where near big enough in my opinion. I turned my phone to James and saw his eyes go wide at the image. “He’s hot isn’t he?” I asked. “Yeah! Totally.” James said. “What would you think if I was that big?” “Uh. I don’t know. Would you really want to be that big? I mean, he’s hot but look at his chest, it looks like he has tits. And what’s with the veins? His arms are covered in them. Gross.” It was that one word, gross, that made my heart sink. Here James was, grossed out by a man I would barely consider buff. I was too distressed to talk any more. I mumbled something about being tired and rolled over and tried to fall asleep. I woke up in a bad mood the next day. I tried to hide it from James but he could sense something was bothering me and kept asking me to tell him what was wrong. I finally confided in him that I was upset at his reaction the night before. I told him how much I loved getting bigger. I told him how I wanted to be buff my whole life and now that I was finally on my way, he didn’t want me to keep going. “Chad, I don’t want to stop you from following your dreams. If you want to keep getting bigger, I won’t stop you. I’m sorry I reacted like that last night. The more I think about it, maybe it would be hot to be with a big stud like that. Just don’t get too big and veiny.” I tired really hard to not show my disappointment at his compromise and instead told James I was going to head to the gym. James came close and gave me a hug and kiss. “I love your big muscles Chad.” he said sweetly. I kissed him back and left for the gym feeling disappointed and confused. I realized that morning that James may never truly accept me for the person I wanted to become. By the time I finished a particularly gruelling workout, I felt better and decided not to over think it too much. Maybe James would come around I thought to myself. In my mind, I couldn’t imagine someone not liking their partner being a huge muscle bound stud. I was in good spirts on the way home thinking there was little doubt James wouldn’t get aroused if I got a lot bigger. A few days later I placed my first order of steroids. I remember my hand was shaking when I typed in my credit card number into the website. I couldn’t sleep that night thinking about what would happen to my body on roids. After tossing and tuning for hours, I got out of bed. My cock had been semi-hard for hours so I decided to watch some “porn” and jerk off. I loaded a favourite video. As the over 300lb freak of nature curled weights most men could not squat, I could feel myself about to orgasm. Just as the freak on screen dropped the weights and lifted his gargantuan arms into a brutal double bicep pose, I sprayed a huge load of cum all over my abs and chest. I must have been louder than I thought because I jumped foot in the air when James appeared behind me. “Chad! What the FUCK are you doing?” He yelled. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep and thought jerking off would help.” “I get that, I mean, what the fuck were you watching!” I quickly slammed my laptop closed and stood to face James. His eyes wide and a look of disgust on his face. “I-I-I” “So that’s what gets you hard? Watching disgusting meat heads? Who the fuck was that? He looks so fucking gross!” I didn’t know how to respond. “Well? Is that what gets you off, roided, grotesque freaks?!” Something snapped. “Yes!!!” James just stood in shock. “I’m sorry James but it’s true. Nothing gets be harder than muscle. HUGE, FREAKY muscle. It’s all I think about! There is no such thing as too big. Nothing hotter than thick, garden hose sized veins covering every inch of the most outrageously pumped up and freakishly huge bodies. And it’s not only that James. I want, no, I NEED, to be just as big. I want to be be so fucking jacked, I can barely move! I want to be so ripped, it looks like I don’t even have skin. I want to be a MONSTER!.” I was screaming at the top of my lungs. My heart was beating out of my chest and my cock was already hard again. James recoiled in disgust, placing his hand over this mouth. I knew I had gone too far but I couldn’t stop. “I ordered steroids today James. Yeah that’s right, I’m going to become a roided, grotesque freak! And you know what? I can’t fucking wait. You think that video was gross? Fuck, I’m going to make that guy look puny! I’m going to fill myself with every chemical I can find and pump so much weight, I will literally explode with muscle. I know you think it’s gross and honestly, I love that you do. I want to be a freak. I want to be disgusting. I want to be so fucking massive, the ground rumbles when I walk and people can’t stand to look at me without puking.” James couldn’t take anymore. He practically tripped over his feet as he hurried down down the hall towards the bedroom. Minutes later, he pushed me aside as he darted towards the front door with a bag of his clothes. He stopped just long enough to look at me through his tears. “Chad, I hope you realize how lucky you were to have me because when you turn into a freak, NO ONE will want you!” he yelled as he slammed the door.
  4. MY GRANDAD’S MUSCLES [Omnibus Edition with a new instalment coming soon] My father’s father became a recluse after his wife died. I never saw much of my grandparents growing up, but Grandad had a good reason for not showing up for Granny’s funeral. It was because my deadbeat father was there, and that was enough of an excuse. They’d hated each other. My father was never sober for more than a few hours at a time. My mother was just as bad, only her poison of choice were prescription painkillers chased down with as much weed as she could get hold of. So yeah, Grandad sold his business in the city and moved west to run a farm. It had always been his dream to completely get out of the rat race and live off the grid. We wrote to each other after he moved away. To be honest, I’d not seen much of him as a kid. He was always busy running his gyms. He had four of them. Once he’d even offered my father an olive branch by giving him his own gym to manage, if only he’d get off the booze. But dear old Anthony Ridge was too far gone, and his liver was on its last legs. Alcohol doesn’t just destroy your body and mind. It also wrecks family units. Speaking of ‘units’, we lost our home in 2010 because our mortgage arrears were crazy, so we had to move into a unit in a trailer park after the bank took back what was theirs. I didn’t really mind. There was just the three of us. And the unit was small enough not to accumulate too many possessions that could be thrown around during drink-fuelled rows. At least my father never raised his hand to me. He fell asleep one night with a lit cigarette in his mouth. My mother had already collapsed into bed, high from her cocktail of back pain meds and weed. I was staying over at my friend Rod’s place, which was what saved my life. By the time the fire brigade got the fire under control, the unit was just a smouldering shell of its former self. After my parents were laid to rest, at a modest ceremony attended mostly by my mother’s side of the family, I got a letter from my Grandad. He wasn’t one for using phones, so letters were his thing. He asked me how I was doing. I was staying at Rod’s; he’d been my crush since early secondary school, and for a time it was just me and him. But now he’d gotten Cindy Fleming up the duff, and both of them just just gone 18, so things weren’t good between Rod and his folks. Too many arguments. And since the unforeseen pregnancy Rod and me started quarrelling more than I cared for. When I told this to my Grandad in a letter, the reply I got back inside of a week said simply: “Come and live with me.” The letter came with train fare and a map on how to reach the farm. I had just finished my final exams at secondary school, so it was either get a job at a fast food place, or go live with my hermit grandparent. I really didn’t have great prospects, and Rod and me were drifting in different directions anyway. I decided to accept my Grandad’s offer. I took with me only what I could carry. Rod’s dad wanted to drive me to the station, but I declined. I needed to stand on my own two feet anyway. Besides, the train station was only a few minutes away by bus. The train ride took three hours. I arrived in the quaint village of Dundrevan just when it started to rain. It was a little after four in the afternoon. I took shelter in a tavern not far from the station. It was a poky little place; only two customers, one an elderly man nursing a pint in a corner. The other was a guy about my age, very handsome, but clearly drunk. Just as I entered, the barman was advising him he’d had enough to drink and to stop tearing up beer mats and flicking the pieces everywhere. “Do you do hot food?” I asked the barman. Only toasted sandwiches were served here, but I hadn’t eaten since breakfast at Rod’s, so anything would be welcomed. So I had a toasted cheese and ham sandwich and pot of tea. I never touch alcohol; I vowed from an early age never to turn into my father. When the rain stopped I decided to follow the map route to the farm. It was about a mile outside the village, but I didn’t mind the walk. The sun had come out and it even started to get a bit warm. I considered taking my shirt off; we Ridge men are blessed with really great genetics. I didn’t work out at all, but I looked like I did. Although my skin was a tad milky, my chest and abs were quite defined. I had a bit of muscle on me, and I wasn’t afraid to show it off. But this place was really deserted, so no one would see me. Or so I thought. I made my way down a narrow laneway with honeysuckle bushes to my left, and seemingly endless wooden fencing with the bark left on, to my right. At the end of the lane I was about to pass a phone box, when someone stepped out of it and looked at me as though he’d known me all his life. “Fuck me, lad. If you’re not related to big Gordie Ridge, then I’m a monkey’s uncle.” The man was in his forties, a bit overweight, with a comb-over to hide his bald patch. His shirt looked like it hadn’t been ironed, ever, and he smelt of onions. But he seemed jolly, and at least he wasn’t carrying a knife with intent to rob me of my duffel bag. “Er, he’s my Grandad. I’m going to stay with him at his farm,” I said simply. He was right in the sense that facially I looked more like my Grandad than my father. “Well now, this is the thing. You’ve got quite the walk ahead of you, lad. And you might want to cover yourself up there. You have to pass the convent and you’ll give the nuns heart attacks with all those muscles on ya!” I liked this man immensely. “I’m not really that muscled,” I said, feigning bashfulness. Like I said, I didn’t work out. What I had on me was a natural thing passed down. Pity my late father decided to abuse his body rather than maximise on what nature gifted him with. “Well no… no you’re not, if you don’t really mind me saying. But the folks around here are somewhat in awe of Gordie Ridge. He’s like a folk legend around these parts. But you can tell you’re a chip off his block, definitely. My name’s Silas, by the way. Silas Brandywine at your service.” “I’m Stephen. Stephen Ridge,” I said, putting my shirt back on. I didn’t want any nun fatalities on my conscience. “Why are people in awe of my Grandad?” I thought back to when I last saw him. I was seven, so ten years ago. He was big, then, but nothing jaw-dropping, although back then I viewed him through the eyes of a kid. I remember seeing weight-lifting trophies at his house, but I’d only been there a couple of times. Silas eyed me with a twinge of curiosity that made his eyes gleam and his ruddy complexion to bloom as he concentrated his visual summary of me. “Haven’t seen him recently, have we, Stephen Ridge?” The community police officer in an archaic Fiat Panda trundled past, sounded the horn at Silas, who summarily waved back. This was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone, and was about two decades behind the rest of the world. “Not since I was a nipper, Silas,” I chirped, trying to be pleasant. I was tired from the journey, but I was grateful for not having a short fuse. “Oh well then, I might give ye a bit of advice, kiddo.” Silas drew closer to me as though he were about to reveal the secret to life itself. “When you faint at the sight of him, make sure you land on something soft, lest you crack your head right open to let out the shock.” “Er, okay… I think.” I decided to continue on my way. I stopped just before the convent. A mischievous thought ran through my mind in which I was topless once again and flirting with the nuns working in their apiary, causing them to come over all flushed and taken by my boyish good looks. I decided against it. Did they even have an apiary? For some reason I believed that all monks and nuns kept bees. After the convent the map told me to cross a field as a shortcut. I walked for another fifteen minutes, maybe. Then I came to a red iron gate, recently painted by the looks of it. A sign nearby said: “Ridge Farm. Keep Out!” So I’d arrived. I wondered how many acres of land my Grandad owned. It was the only farm for miles around. I couldn’t see any livestock, but maybe he wasn’t that kind of farmer. Then I saw the out-buildings beyond a range of oak trees. There were three white, rectangular sheds; obviously these were the nucleus of Grandad’s farming enterprise. Beyond that nothing but trees, trees, and more trees. The house itself was typically rural, probably a hundred years old or more. There was a barn and a pen in the courtyard with six pigs in it. So maybe he was a pig farmer. But if so why did he only own six pigs? My Grandad was in the barn. I could hear him singing, although I couldn’t put a name to the tune. There was a lot of clanking of metal, and grunting to go along with the singing. I didn’t want to frighten him by just appearing at the door; he was in his sixties, after all. Isn’t it dangerous to sneak up on an old person? Then I noticed an old-fashioned bell sitting on a windowsill up at the house. I opted to use it to announce my presence. The grunting, singing, and clanking noises ceased. I’d gotten my Grandad’s attention. He came out of the barn. I looked at him. My breathing seized up. Silas Brandywine had been right about one thing. I fainted. *** When I came to I was lying on a couch in what could only be the living room of the farmhouse. I immediately noticed the renovations; the door frames were taller and wider than standard door frames. The ceiling, too, looked higher than you’d expect a ceiling to be. The interior furnishings were rustic and old fashioned. A painting of a milkmaid milking a cow hung over a spartan mantel. A grandfather clock in a corner ticked somnolently. Shafts of dying sunlight permeated the room in which dust motes seemed to hang, fixed rigidly in time itself. I instinctively felt my head for evidence of injury, but there was none. I was thankful for that. As my senses grew more attuned to my surroundings, my nose picked up the delicious smell of… was it beef stew? I got up from the couch, a little wobbly on my feet, but I soon regained my balance. I followed the smell of the stew to the large kitchen at the rear of the house. It needed to be big, because my Grandad was, well… HUGE! He was shirtless, save for an apron which he let hang untied at the back. His back was the widest, most muscular back I’d ever seen. And there wasn’t a hair on his back or shoulders, unlike my dad who seemed to have gotten the hairy gene from my grandmother’s side. He wore khaki cargo shorts and was barefooted. I gauged his height to be between 6’ 10 and 7’; the Ridge men had always been tall. I myself stood at an impressive 6’ 4”. At 18 I probably wasn’t done growing yet. My dad had stopped growing at 6’ 5”, the waster. He could have been impressive, instead of a deadbeat. Gordon Ridge wasn’t a weight-lifter; well, maybe he was in his younger days. But now he was utterly a bodybuilder, and the biggest, most muscular man I’d ever seen. “Uh...Grandad?” “Hope you’re hungry. My beef stew is the best in the world, Stephen. You’re probably famished from your trip.” My Grandad turned around. I feel terrible for admitting this, but my dick instantly firmed up at the sight of him. Yeah, I know we’re related, but I wasn’t prepared for what he had built of himself. I blamed my stiffy on a chemical impulse in my brain, or something like that. He was incredibly handsome. So what if he was sixty-four? He’d been stunning-looking in his youth, as I recall. Time had been good to his brand of handsomeness, with lines of age in his face that would look destructively hampering on others. But on him they gave him a wisdom that commanded respect, along with his obvious size and strength. Thank heavens I hadn’t tucked in my shirt; it hid my arousal well. I really didn’t want Grandad to get a ‘pervy’ vibe from me. I didn’t want him to know I’m gay, not yet anyway. I had no idea what he thought of such things. I hoped he wasn’t a homophobe like my father was. “I could use a hot meal, thanks.” I tried not to stammer. But he could clearly tell I was astonished by how he looked. He was overwhelming. “You’ve grown up well, Stephen. You were only a bean when last I saw you. What are you, six three, six four?” “Four,” I replied shakily. Grandad’s smile was warm and reassuring. I had nothing to fear here. “I was shorter than you at that age. But as you can see, a lot of growth came later.” He wasn’t smug, or modest, so when his arm raised up to form a single bicep pose, I think he did it without realising. A huge, melon-ball bicep formed and bulged upon his command. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. He picked up on this and played it down with a chuckle. All he said was: “Thirty-one inches. So far.” He winked proudly and went back to tending to the stew. He suggested I wash up before supper. He told me where the bathroom was. I was so relieved to get up there so that I would masturbate, get that over with, and, hopefully, keep my arousal to a minimum. This is purely chemical with me. There is no way I would allow myself to develop an unhealthy attraction to my own progenitor. When I returned to the kitchen, there was a big bowl of stew waiting for me. Grandad was already seated on the other end of the big oak table. He tore off a chunk of bread from a sizable loaf before handing it over to me. “I like to dip the bread in and use it like a spoon. Then I just drink down the remainder out of the bowl. I don’t get many guests up here,” he said between chews. A quivering smile formed on my lips, so I decided to copy his method, and dipped some bread into the stew. It was very tasty, and he didn’t skimp on the beef either. The obvious elephant in the room was his physique, but he didn’t seem interested in bringing it up during our first meal together. “Thank you for taking me in, Grandad. I was at a bit of a crossroads,” I said. I can’t remember ever eating a meal this good. My mother had never been one for cooking. Dinner had almost always been take-out back then. Living at Rod’s had been better, but because both his parents worked, dinner was usually more convenient than nutritious. This was new to me. I ate three big hunks of bread and finished all the stew in my bowl whilst Grandad helped himself to seconds, and then thirds. “Sorry, but I have to eat big to stay big,” he said, after demolishing the third bowl. He let out a very loud and very manly belch, then leaned back in his big farmhouse chair and patted his cobbled belly. He still had the apron on. I really hoped he’d remove it. But sitting opposite him gave me plenty of time to take in the enormity of this man. He really was a super-human in every sense of the word. His rugged, handsome head was supported by the thickest bull-neck I’d ever seen. It just seemed to widen as it sloped down to his mammoth traps, and they in turn sat on shoulders capped with thick, rippled deltoids. He had to be at least five feet wide at the shoulders, maybe more. His chest was just beautiful; thick, bloated pectoral masses that made the neck of the apron look like a length of yarn threaded through a handkerchief. I loved the way he had to lean forward and hunker down over his bowl so as not to get any stew on the table. This position highlighted his shoulders best, for he flexed and bulged his muscles without thinking. His biceps and forearms looked powerful enough to snap concrete blocks in two (I had no idea as to feats of strength he’d demonstrate for me later). “Um, you don’t wear shirts then?” Oh why did I go and ask that? I could’ve asked him about the farm, and what he did here, but I had to let my dick do the talking instead. I hope he didn’t take offence. He smiled and ran a finger around his bowl to pick up the last dregs of stew, which he then sucked clean. His bad manners at the table made him human. His muscles made him a god. “I mostly wear just jockstraps when I’m alone here. I get them specially made. Really comfortable and with just the best support a man can get. But the shorts are out of respect for you being here.” Oh my god, I felt myself thinking. That is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. I think I needed to wank again. My Grandad was not only super-huge, he was super-sexy. I had to think about the nuns at the convent I’d passed earlier, running around in only their knickers whilst chased by swarms of angry bees. That helped with my arousal a little. “I wear jocks sometimes. Rod and me were on the school rugby team, but we sucked at it.” I just wanted to keep the subject of jockstraps alive. “Who’s Rod?” “My best friend. I was living with him and his family for a bit after the… you know.” I didn’t want to bring up the subject of the fire. I knew enough about Gordon Ridge to know that he never discussed anything to do with his son. “It was good of them to put you up like that. But I’m kin. Your place is with me now.” Grandad got up to clear the bowls into the sink. He emptied what was left of the stew into a plastic container and placed it in the fridge. I helped by washing up. Later Grandad said he was going back to the barn. “What do you get up to there?” I asked, as if I didn’t already know. “Bodybuilding,” said Grandad with a smirk. He took off the apron and chucked it into a basket he kept for dirty laundry. I could finally get a proper look at his torso. Every muscle was just popping out of him. He was ripped beyond belief, but carried immense size also. I couldn’t begin to guess at his weight, but he was at least three times as big as a Mr Olympia super-heavyweight competitor. Why the hell did he shy away from public life and waste all this muscle on a lonely farm in the middle of nowhere? If I looked like him I’d be all over the internet, doing talk shows, winning trophies, being fucking amazing and loving every moment. I guess he had his reasons. “Oh Grandad, you’re enormous,” I couldn’t keep myself from mouthing. He smiled warmly, his face creasing up with wrinkles that only complimented his good looks. “One day, maybe,” he said simply. My erection bloomed under my shirt. The thought of this white-haired behemoth actually getting bigger than he was now almost made me bust a nut there and then. “You… you, don’t think you’re… er… big enough?” I stammered. My cock hurt inside my shorts. It needed adjusting. “Nope… not by a mile, Stephen.” And to illustrate his point he flexed a most muscular which caused alarmingly defined muscularity to burst from his skin. Every last part of him heaved with muscle clarity, and as he grunted and groaned — leaning into the pose with rising force — his face and neck flared red from the effort. He kept flexing, demanding more blood to course into his muscle fibers. I felt my own blood coursing as I witnessed this incredible spectacle. “I’ll never be big enough,” he grunted, this time changing to a full lat spread pose. His upper body widened and thickened; his pecs heaved upward and deep striations cracked across their mighty surfaces. He partially rolled up his shorts before lifting his arms to clasp the back of his head with his hands. He then pulled his abs taut. They almost crunched with definition. He rolled his mighty thighs one after the other, and the clusters of muscles there boiled with size and ferocious power. He relaxed and flexed, alternating between the two in order to give me quite the show. I don’t think he was aware of his own erection, but I could see the tenting happening in the front of his khakis. It didn’t feel weird. We were two guys hanging out, right? Then he said: “Come to the barn. Watch me lift.” My mouth formed an aghast “O” shape. I was related to probably the biggest bodybuilder in the world, and now he was inviting me to watch him lift. I had two choices: I could accept his invitation, and, hopefully find some way to ‘relieve’ myself again without him noticing, or I could run for the hills back to Rod’s place and put all this out of my mind. But Grandad had shown me nothing but kindness, so it would have been wrong of me to run out on him, especially now that night was fast approaching. Once the pigs were put into their night enclosure, Grandad and me went into the barn. It smelt a little of pig-shit, but he filled his lungs with a great deal of it and it seemed to energise him a little. I supposed I’d have to get used to the smells of farm life. It was as typical a barn as barns come, although there was a squat rack, bench, and free weights present. As he lit oil lamps I could see more things, specifically a leg press machine and another for doing lat pull-downs. He pretty much had his own gym here; he used to be in the business so he used what he needed to isolate every muscle-group. But there was nothing magical about the set-up here. How, then, did he get so big? There was also a scale in the barn, one you see at livestock fairs. Obviously a standard human scale was too small for my Grandad. He stepped out of his shorts and flung them over his shoulder. It was as though he was suddenly unaware that he had a guest. He went over to the scale and stood confidently on the pressure pad. “Hunngh! Only five up from yesterday,” he grunted. He looked disappointed. “Five… pounds?” I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. But then he’d just eaten a lot of food, so the scale was obviously picking up on that. “I gained fifteen pounds on Wednesday. That was a good day. Only five since yesterday. Gotta lift now, Stephen”. Oh well, at least he was aware of me again. The jockstrap looked amazing on him. It was white and black; the thick black waistband married well with the white pouched front and supporting straps at the rear. He was beautiful to look at. Every last inch of him was manliness exaggerated beyond belief. And as he muscle-waddled over to the bench to begin his evening presses, his dick meat and weighty gonads bobbed and swung heavily before him. He was very hung, but then, so was I. Well, not as much as he was, but I had a dick worthy of a porn-star. Those Ridge genes again. Fifteen pounds, did he say? But such gains so quickly were impossible. Maybe there was something in the water. But if that were so, then the few people I’d so far met from the village didn’t reflect this theory. It had to be something else. I couldn’t chalk it up to just genetics alone. If that was the reason, then… did it mean that I, too, had the potential to look like Grandad? I was stunned to silence as I watched him deftly load up the bar with crazy amounts of weight. I did a quick count of the plates and added the weight up to be… fuck… a metric tonne? Could a bar really hold that much? Maybe this gear was specially reinforced for Grandad. Didn’t he need a spotter? He positioned himself correctly on the bench, and gripped the bar firmly enough to make his knuckles glow white. He eased it off the rests and took the strain. It wobbled a little at first, but as his confidence grew, so did his strength. He let the bar come down near his enormous pecs. Then he pressed up, slowly at first, but once a rhythm kicked in, a man/machine synergy came into effect. I watched Grandad own the iron, play with it like it was a toy, and press it repeatedly, over and over. It was as if his chest grew with every inhalation, every measured, controlled movement. And when he exhaled, it was audibly masculine in its output. By the time he’d hit his seventieth or eightieth rep, he was screaming like a man possessed. I actually felt a little scared of him at this point, but I was as rigid as my erection, now, transfixed to the spot and unable to stop myself from being ‘blown away’ by the power of my father’s father. He got up from the bench when he was done, and flexed his pecs a few times. Then he cupped each one firmly and felt up their combined mass. “Good pump there,” he said simply. He pounded them a little, like the way gorillas sometimes do with their chests. It was so manly. I turned around to adjust my junk in my pants. Grandad didn’t seem to notice. He’d already moved over to the leg press. The machine was set to two tonnes. I couldn't believe the numbers. “Climb on up, Stephen. I could do with the extra weight,” Grandad said with a smirk. “Oh, er….I,” I didn’t know what to say. I suddenly felt awkward. And I really wanted to shoot another load. “I hope you’re not afraid of heights, lad. You’ll be helping me out around the place, and some of the work will involve climbing. You’ll have to get used to it.” His tone was more adamant-sounding now. I was fine with it. I wasn’t one for freeloading off my generous grandfather and had every intention of pulling my weight and doing my fair share (whatever that turned out to be). “Er, okay. I’ll get right up there, Grandad,” I responded. I gingerly climbed up onto the carriage of the machine. Not the most comfortable thing to sit on, I must add. I had to somehow wedge my arse between the weights and the foot plate, although my feet occupied the side of the foot plate opposite where Grandad’s feet were positioned confidently and correctly. Looking down at him from this angle — where he was seated at an incline — he was all chest and groin, both of which bulged almost obscenely. He was clearly erect himself, but that was fine. We were two guys hanging out, right? He was just showing off, getting me to climb onto the carriage. I mean, I only weigh about 225, so my weight on top of two fucking tonnes was negligible. “Ready? Hang on to your britches,” said Grandad. And he began to take the strain. At first I thought he was going to tear some muscles and lose to the weight. I had visions of tumbling off the thing. But this didn’t happen. He began to push the colossal weight; it barely looked as if he was straining. His face showed only determination; other than that it was devoid of emotion. He almost looked disappointed at how easily his juggernaut legs pushed both the weight and his grandson upwards, over and over. I held on as best I could, but after thirty or so repetitions, I began to feel seasick. Grandad sensed this and decided to let me off. “The machine is maxed out. I'll need a new one designed. Maybe there's a way to lash two together, one for each leg.” He suddenly seemed lost in thought. “Your legs definitely got a good pump there,” I remarked, and this seemed to please my progenitor to the point where he blasted out one pose after another. I wanted to ask him what his secret was. But I decided it could wait. I needed to use the toilet in order to ‘rub one out’ again. But before I could leave the barn: “So you like your old Grandad’s physique, huh?” Grandad bounced his hefty pecs over and over. I couldn’t help but notice how his cock was so swollen and hard, it had pushed the waistband of the jockstrap away from his body. I felt inwardly disgusted for allowing my gaze to linger there. If he noticed, he didn’t seem to care. “You’re like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” He came over to me and ruffled my brown hair, like he did when I was seven. I didn’t mind if he still saw me as that little kid from ten years ago. “Ever thought about bodybuilding?” I shrugged. Sure, I had inherited the best genetics a guy could ever hope for. Maybe I could do more with my body. “Not really. I just try to focus on not ending up like dad!” SHIT, I shouldn’t have mentioned him in Grandad’s presence. “That alcoholic piece of CRAP!!!!!” Grandad’s temper erupted. From what I knew of him, I’d always seen him as an easy-going, never angry type. But now… He swelled up in size; was it my imagination or did he really have the power to ‘hulk out’? He did that growling “Incredible Hulk” pose you often saw the character do on the show just before the Hulk ripped off the remains of his shirt and after Bixby changed into Ferrigno,. Muscles and veins bulged hugely under his skin. There was the back half of a broken tractor just outside the barn. He jogged over to it and began to lift it off the ground. How much did half a tractor weigh anyway? Seething with anger, my grandfather lifted the machinery over his head like an average human might lift a toddler onto their shoulders. Then he ripped it to pieces and flung the pieces far and wide. I prayed they wouldn’t hurt someone. “I did everything for him,” he barked, and the pigs nearby began squealing and adding to the ruckus. I think Grandad needed to calm down. I was genuinely scared now. He made a most muscular pose and more and more huge muscles bulged insanely all over him. Was he… growing? Snarling like a slavering beast, he tore up a length of fencing, posts and all, and hurled them into a far field. Then he muscle-bounded around to a garage area, and I almost wet myself when he single-handedly ripped the door off the garage and then dragged a four-wheel drive outside where he could better pick it up. My Grandad was lifting a fucking jeep like is was made of balsa wood. “I even gave him his own gym. But what’d he do? Got fucking wasted again. Didn’t even try the 12 steps. Well I’ll give him 12 fucking steps alright. GRRRRRAAAAAWWWWRRRR!!” I’d never seen a jeep do an impersonation of an aircraft before. How high did he throw it anyway? I listened for a crash sound. After thirty seconds, nothing. A minute passed. Maybe it came down in a lake. Who was to say? I was terrified of my Grandad now. I shouldn’t have mentioned my father to him. I plucked up the courage to leave the barn where I’d been standing just inside the entrance. My Grandad was rampaging about the farm, looking for more things to destroy. Out of sheer desperation, the pigs broke out of their enclosure and ran for their lives, squealing noisily. Grandad made eyes at the house itself. If he could throw a jeep so far, then he could easily demolish a house with his fists. Where would we live then? I needed to intervene. “Grandad… stop… please. Anthony’s dead, remember? I promise I’ll never mention him again. Just please don’t smash anything else.” That seemed to calm him down. My Grandad was even bigger now. I couldn’t believe such a thing was possible. He was totally naked since his ‘hulk out’ had caused his junk to grow to humongous proportions. Somewhere about the farm, his jock lay in tatters. His mighty chest heaved with every exerted breath. It looked as though he was still pumping up. It’d been a crazy day. My massively muscular Grandad was a giant of a man, and completely naked before me. Strangely, my erection had subsided, and I was glad I could think with my brain again. He was silent for a time. Then: “I’m sorry about that, Stephen. I’ll go put some clothes on.” A kind, warm smile returned, replacing a face of pure malice and rage. “Just a jockstrap will do, seeing as you’re used to that and all,” I remarked, trying to further lighten the moment. Then I took my shirt off, just because it seemed right. I left my pants on, though. That would have been weird. Grandad gave me the once-over and nodded his approval. “You should lift, lad. You remind me of myself when I was your age. Although, I had a good fifty pounds on you. Come inside. I have an apple pie in the fridge. I always eat pie after a workout.” And so that was how my first day went living with my super-strong, massive bodybuilding Grandad. I’d probably spend the night beating off in my new bed. Turned out the pie tuckered me out and I decided to turn in. Grandad was bigger now, so he struggled in places around the house that weren’t designed to accommodate his new size. He’d have to make more renovations. But at least there still was a house to renovate. *** I suppose it was to be expected Grandad would have me up at the crack of dawn; it was the farming way, right? Despite his massive size, I hadn’t heard him come into the bedroom to open the curtains, leave a cup of tea on the nightstand beside my bed, and also a special gift next to it. But he’d been in and out without waking me; the first rays of glorious morning sunshine permeating the room was enough to rouse me out of a somewhat restful sleep. I swung my feet to the floor, rubbing sleep out of my eye with one finger, whilst taking the teacup up to my lips with the other. The tea had sugar in it; I normally took it just with milk. But I didn’t mind. It was a nice gesture. An even nicer gesture was the other gift he left me: a brand new jock-strap; I guess these were now my ‘work clothes’. Anyone else might have been creeped out by this, but I didn’t feel that way. My Grandad was an exceptional person, and I liked to think this was his way of bonding with his grandson. It was all good in my book. I decided to ‘break it in’ immediately. This helped to waken me up and begin acclimating to my new life at Ridge Farm. It was so comfortable and it made my package look awesome. I looked at myself in the mirror (yup, the room came with a full-length mirror). The jock really did my body justice. I felt so manly, and looked so athletic. Had my first night at the farm caused changes to my body? I thought I looked more muscular, but maybe it was wishful thinking. I was tall, therefore any additions to my muscularity would have to be significant ones, right? Still, I found myself ‘making muscles’ to my reflection, and within a couple of minutes I was erect as fuck. I wondered how long it would take my milky skin to get tanned as I worked outdoors. Grandpa’s skin tone was so healthy. He really didn’t look sixty-four. I decided to take a quick shower and beat off under the spray. I would probably be horny for the rest of the day anyway, so maybe it was best I ‘milk’ myself as early as I could. When I went downstairs — wearing only my new jockstrap plus the sneakers I arrived in — Grandad was slaving over the stove again. This time he didn’t wear the apron. That pleased me. He, too, wore only a jockstrap. I will admit to the guilty pleasure of sprouting a semi at the sight of his massive delta-back supported by a waspish waist, which itself drew its foundation from the biggest, juiciest muscle-butt I’d ever seen. It bulged gorgeously out of the straps of the jock which framed it perfectly. The muscle dimples that popped in and out of the glutes as he worked on breakfast were a sight to behold. His legs worked clumsily against each other for space, but he had it nailed down. There was something so arousing to see a bodybuilder get so huge that it made walking look awkward. But there was nothing awkward about Gordon Ridge. He was truly magnificent. “Good morning, Grandad,” I said simply. He turned around, looking huge. He smiled at me, noticed I was wearing the gift he’d left me, and then nodded his approval. “I hope you like porridge,” he said, “It’s very nutritious. This is my special recipe, lad. A healthy body is required for labouring on the farm.” A healthy body? In his case that was an understatement. He beckoned me to sit at the table where there was a place set out for me. Next to my bowl was some sort of milkshake in a tall glass. I gingerly sniffed at it. “What’s this?” I inquired. “My morning shake. It’s full of all the essentials. I rounded the pigs up single-handedly. But you’re going to help me repair the fence I smashed last night.” He appeared somewhat rueful. His rage of the night before actually seemed like a dream to me now. He ladled a hearty two dollops of porridge into my bowl. The breakfast had an ‘earthiness’ to its aroma. I couldn’t put my finger on it, though. Still, I was as hungry as a growing 18 year-old can be, so I dug into my breakfast, and was pleased when it came with two rounds of wholemeal buttered toast. Grandad sat down opposite me to eat. His appetite was as massive as he was. He was already through his first bowl of porridge by the time I’d taken my fourth spoonful. I must admit that he was a really good cook. “Your strength is incredible, Grandad,” I couldn’t wait to say. He smiled gratefully. I think he was glad I was here. A guy like him shouldn’t spend so much time alone. Although, I had yet to learn how he associated with the local village folk. Silas from yesterday mentioned he was a legend to the people around here. “I could be stronger,” he said simply. I had to comment: “Is that, like, a curse to a bodybuilder?” “What do you mean?” He eyed me through air that could have been sliced apart with a knife. Did I say the wrong thing? Oh, I really didn’t want to piss him off again. I liked this house. I didn’t want it reduced to rubble. “Er… um… I didn’t mean anything sinister, Grandad.” I chose my words carefully. He remained silent. I nervously dry-swallowed and felt my stomach churning up butterflies. My bottom lip started quivering. I spoke slowly, carefully. “I mean… do you feel, sometimes, that you can never be big enough? Are there limits to how huge you’d like to be?” Please, please, please, don’t hulk out on me, I thought to myself. Did I mention Anthony this time? I hoped that my Grandad didn’t isolate himself from society because he couldn’t control his temper. He broke the ensuing silence by chewing a piece of toast noisily. Then he knocked back his morning shake before getting up to refill his porridge bowl. After what seemed like a small age, he answered my questions. “Yes to the first question; no to the second.” Then he opened a kitchen drawer and took out an old newspaper. He handed it to me. “Turn to page four,” he instructed. I opened the newspaper. The date at the top was from two years ago, not long after Granny’s funeral. The main article on the page read: “CHILD LABOUR RING FOILED BY FLYING TRACTOR” In the early hours of Monday morning, an organised syndicate of illegal child labourers had their operation destroyed by a tractor when it struck their base of operation, a hitherto abandoned creamery near the village of Dundrevan. Five of the six men, all non-nationals, suffered minor injuries, whilst one remains in a critical condition in hospital. Police who shortly after arrived at the scene discovered twenty-two children — also non-nationals, with ages ranging between 8 and 14 — wandering about the area in a state of apparent confusion. The children are currently being cared for at the Sisters of Mercy convent where they are being treated for shock and malnutrition. Examination of their living conditions revealed that the children were being used to manufacture narcotics intended for sale both here and abroad. Police are keen to question the men involved, and it is not currently known how a tractor happened to fall from the sky with precision enough to end this brutal crime against innocent children. I was a little confused, not sure what Grandad was expressing by showing me the newspaper. He then opened up: “The nuns tipped me off about the place. This fucking place. Honestly, one police man, and he’s close to retirement, too. He couldn’t investigate a pimple on the end of his nose. So the Mother Superior came to me. She said she was passing there one day and heard what she thought was a child getting beaten. And where was PC fucking Plod at the time? Playing cards and drinking gin with Silas Brandywine. No wonder those human trafficking bastards set up shop here. Perfect place to get away with all kinds of shit.” Grandad paused to flex his muscles. He brought both arms up to a double biceps. When he said his biceps were thirty-one inches yesterday, they looked thicker than my waist now. Veins popped out of his skin and seemed to help him inflate himself bigger. I was hard as a rock again, but I was seated at the table, so he didn’t notice. “So I did what any father would do. I saved those kids. The tractor was here when I bought the place, but it was shot. I’d staked out the creamery myself, getting the layout and all that. My hearing is pretty good, and I could tell that the children weren’t in the main house, but in one of the outbuildings, probably used to store the dairy products prior to shipping when the place was operational. It was heavily padlocked, which wouldn’t have been a problem for me.” He paused to crank out a most muscular. OMG, he looked bigger — way bigger — than yesterday. That could only mean his strength was increasing by the hour. I had to ask another question: “Why didn’t you just bust the kids out there and then?” “I guess I have a flair for the dramatic, Stephen. Plus, I couldn’t tell if those wankers had guns or who they were connected to. Was it a localised operation, or was there something bigger behind it?” He shrugged, causing his massive pecs to heave and flex. Veins erupted across his shoulders and chest. “I planned to demolish the entire house, but my aim was off. Fortunately the tractor hit the part where most of them were sleeping. It’s a disappointing miracle only one of them was seriously injured. But he lived. They all were extradited back to whatever shit-pile they crawled from. The kids were all orphans, but I hear they’re doing well in foster homes and such.” “That part of the tractor from last night. Was it…?” “Yup, the very same. After the police were done with their investigation, they just up and left. The buildings were demolished for safety reasons and what was left of the tractor was just lying there when I returned a few weeks later. I decided to keep it as a memento.” “Aren’t you worried the cops will connect you to the incident through the tractor remains?” Then I remembered: he completely destroyed what was left of it last night. “Pimple on the end of his nose,” Grandad reminded me, referring to the local constabulary’s incompetence. I had to ask another question: “What does your heroic deed do with how huge you want to get?” Oh I hoped this question wouldn’t set him off again. I silently cringed and my erection subsided. Grandad didn’t answer immediately. For a moment he was lost to his flexing. He performed weight-free bicep curls before me, his attention rapt on the bulging balls of muscle that erupted out of his arms as he flexed and pumped them. He grunted with something akin to minor satisfaction. “Back then I weighed less than half of what I do now, which of this morning is one hundred and twenty-five stone.” He paused to allow me to take that one in. Wait, he said ‘stones’. I had to do some mental arithmetic. I couldn’t believe the number. “You’re over 1700 pounds. Grandad… that’s… it’s…” I didn’t have the words. “I plan to weigh over a tonne before the week is out, lad. See what I did back then to free those kids? I must be way stronger now. I moved here to get away from shit. I was stressed out trying to keep my businesses afloat. Too many gyms completely saturated the market and my profits were diminishing. Before I knew it I was taking out second mortgages on the properties, but haemorrhaging capital faster than new bills get printed. And your grandmother’s cancer was so hard to bear.” He didn’t elaborate. I hadn’t known Granny all that well; you can blame ‘dear old dad’ for that one. But Grandad was opening up to me, now. And that was a good thing. It helped me to acquire a better understanding of the person he is, and the events that led to him looking the way he does. But there was more to learn, and I’m sure he’d tell me when he was good and ready. “But I have to get stronger, Stephen. If those fuckers — or their associates — ever come back here, I want to be so fucking strong, they’ll shit out of their windpipes in fear when they see me. No child will ever again unduly suffer on my watch.” He performed a full lat spread. Fuck, he was huger than when he last did that pose. His muscles opened up and expanded in all directions. His upper pecs seemed to suck his head down into them. He liked the feeling so much that his junk swelled massively into the biggest boner I’d ever seen. He was hung like a horse; no… his made horse dicks look small. “And then there’s the… wall,” he said, sombrely. My eyebrows peaked with curiosity. I was already tugging my pud with one hand beneath the table. If Grandad noticed, he didn’t respond. We were just two guys hanging out, right? Perfectly natural for blokes to get off to one another’s manliness. It’s only hormones and chemical exchanges, nothing more. Okay fuck it… I fancied the shit out of him. My own grandfather. But it’s not like he’d been in my life much prior to this. We’d been pretty much estranged because of the bad blood between a father and his son. Couldn’t I just pretend that we weren’t related, simply to make masturbating less awkward? Wait, what was this about a ‘wall’? “Wall?” I’d been close to coming, but I was glad I didn’t. My curiosity got the better of my libido. Was he speaking about a real wall or a figurative one? I had to know more about what was going on here, especially now that I’d put down roots. In fact, I’d yet to learn about how important a role ‘roots’ played in all of this. “If you’re done with breakfast, I’ll show you around more of the farm,” said Grandad. Then he did a side-chest pose and his muscle-tits gobbled up a huge amount of space. Dimples and striations erupted across their masses. My dick went from semi-flaccid to rock hard in a heartbeat. “Oh shit,” I groaned, my words emerging as a panicky croak. I leapt up from the table, my jockstrap hugely tented out in front of me. I cupped all that I could of the bulge with my hand and made a beeline for the stairs. I had to get to the bathroom. But before I got to the upper landing, I came swiftly, my body and organ convulsing in unison. I staggered on the landing as the orgasm overwhelmed me. Once in the bathroom I locked the door and massaged my dick further where it poked out of the jock pouch. Sticky creme coated my dick and my pubic hair was slick with it. I needed to take a shower. Then I noticed that one of Grandad’s jockstraps had been left in the well of the shower. I guess he’d forgotten to chuck it in the laundry. I think I did a bad thing then, but you can decide for yourself. I picked up the jock and attempted to wear it. It was wet from the shower, but I didn’t care. It was a kinky thing to do, right? But fuck it, this new life of mine was exceptional, and full of the unexpected. Of course, I was lost inside the jock. The pouch was huge; it had to be for Grandad. The straps at the back hung loosely below my arse, hardly touching it at all. The waistband was also loose around me. I had to hold the jock with one hand to keep it up. I finally gave up and let it fall to the floor. Then I picked it up and took a little sniff. It smelt of the extremes of bodybuilding. It reeked of manly musk. It cooked in the juices of sweat and precum coaxed into being by the heavy lifting of massive weights, over and over again. It sang of strength and power and ever-increasing mass. It shone with magnificent, masculine muscularity that showed no signs of ever stopping. It was the garment of a god. I wasn’t worthy to hold it, much less attempt to wear it. I stepped into the shower and turned on the warm spray. Then I wanked again… and again. How I came three times in just a few minutes was a mystery. But there was power in this place. And I think it was rubbing off on me. I wanted it to. I wanted to be just like Grandad. *** In less than half an hour my Grandad brought me on a tour of the farm. I hate to say this, but there really wasn’t much to see. The pigs were the only livestock he owned. I asked him about this as he led me from one utility shed to another. He showed me where the generator room was. It was hooked up to several solar panels, plus a single wind-powered turbine some ways off. I hadn’t noticed the tall propeller on a stick when I’d first arrived the day before. Together the devices gave the farm all the power it needed. Grandad was off the grid and didn’t owe shit to anyone. Another building housed nothing but composters, which Grandad said was great for the soil and helped him get rid of household waste with little pollutants. He went on to explain that his toilets drained into a tank that fed into the compost. Nothing was wasted. I guess a big man produced a lot of crap. “The pigs aren’t for eating, but they serve their purpose. Although… lately I haven’t needed to use them much.” He didn’t elaborate until he took me to the field farthest from the farm. It was populated primarily by oak trees. Each tree was a mighty old thing, with a presence that felt ancient. Grandad perhaps sensed my curiosity and explained. “Last year one of these old girls got struck by lightning. Only quick reflexes from your old gramps here stopped the entire plantation from burning down. Still, wasn’t much left of her when I pulled her remains right out of the ground and cut away a cross-section.” “Don’t tell me, you didn’t use any equipment to pull up the remains, right?” I think Grandad liked the fact that I was interested in how things operated here. “Well, I used a saw to cut through the stump, but I used my strength to rend the stump from the earth, yes.” He bounced his huge pectoral masses with lofty pride. Then he added: “I wasn’t as big then as I am now. It took me a good ten minutes to get the stump out of the ground. The roots went down a mighty ways. But I won through in the end.” “You’d probably do it in half that time now. You’re huge.” I didn’t need to remind him. “Halve that time again, then lop off another minute,” he said with a smirk. “So you examined the age of the tree from its rings, yes?” There was a keenness in my voice now. He heard it and it pleased him. “Indeed. The lifespan of oak trees can vary. The really old ones can live for over five hundred years. But these babies… they’re far older. I needed a really strong magnifying glass to count those rings from the cross-section. Each ring counts for one year of growth. I gave up at seven hundred and fifty.” “Wow… so they’re something special then.” I wondered where this was going. “Not just the trees themselves, Stephen.” He hunkered down to dig for something between the roots of the nearest oak. In less than a minute he produced something round and dirty, like a clump of soil matted with leaf clutter. He tossed it to me. “What do you make of that?” I don’t know why I did it, but I immediately brought the object close to my nose. It’s odour was familiar. It was the same ‘earthy’ smell I’d gotten from the milkshake he’d made for me earlier. “What is this?” “You’ve never seen a truffle before?” “Aren’t they fancy chocolates?” “No… real truffles are fungi. But unlike regular mushrooms, they don’t put up parasols to spread their spores. They reproduce underground, amidst the root structures of trees. Different trees can produce different types of truffle. There are white ones, black ones, red ones, and so on. And some of their names are associated with the trees under which they spawn. I’m not going to go all scientific on this. I’ll keep it simple.” The truffle I held felt like it weighed about a half pound. I cleaned off the soil and revealed its somewhat greenish-purple hue. It looked like it was faintly glowing, too. Grandad had more to say on the subject. “They spread their spores via animals that dig them up and eat them. Pigs are great at this, although dogs are better. I’m not overly fond of dogs, and I picked up those pigs for a pittance. I originally had twelve. But four died of either old age, or twisted guts. Don’t worry, I didn't waste the meat. A man’s got to grow, right?” A lat spread just for the fun of it reminded me that I was in the presence of a muscle giant. “So you just let the pigs wander amongst the oaks and they dig up the truffles for you?” Grandad nodded enthusiastically. “Well, I need to be present, else they’ll scoff them up real quick. I usually just clap my hands when they find one and they obediently drop the booty. That one you’re holding in your hand — even though it’s a small one — will fetch about two hundred quid. I once unearthed one that weighed over eight pounds, but it’s quality was way beyond what you’re holding. It bought me that jeep I flung into the air last night.” He paused to frown and lament his questionable actions of the night before, but he chirped up quickly enough. “I hope it didn’t kill anyone, although I think we’d have heard something by now. I no longer fit inside cars, so it’s not really a loss.” After a short pause: “Try some,” he insisted, indicating I should eat the smelly fruiting body. “Seriously? You want me to eat this?” “Yup, just rub off the excess soil and start chewing. It’ll do you good to try it. I want to test a theory.” So I was to be my Grandad’s guinea pig. Speaking of the pigs; he said some of them died from twisted guts. I hope that wasn’t from eating the truffles. “Well, you obviously know best,” I said, but I really wasn’t fond of the idea. “You had some in your shake this morning. It’s fine. Truffles are an expensive addition to cooking, highly prized in top restaurants the world over. These ones… well, they’re special.” I decided to trust my Grandad. I cleaned the tuber as best I could and then tentatively sliced some off with my teeth. It was like chewing a really dry potato, or what I imagined that would be like. There wasn’t really any flavour; more an aroma than anything else. So I chewed, and chewed, and finally forced the bolus down my throat. I coughed a few times and my eyes watered up. Grandad grinned broadly, then he slapped me on the back, hard enough to leave a red patch. I almost went flying; I guess he sometimes forgot how immensely strong he is. “Oh grow a set of balls, lad. Now tell me if you feel any different.” I didn’t feel anything. Not at first. But then… something happened. I felt a tightness all over. It started beneath my arms. I wasn’t sure I cared for the feeling at first, but then I realised I was growing. That feeling under my arms came from my expanding lat muscles. The tightness was followed quickly by a warm, tingling sensation. “Oh fuck… is this really happening?” “It sure is, Stephen. You think I got this way just by bodybuilding?” The feeling continued. My muscles were growing, expanding, gaining more dominance over the rest of me. My neck thickened, along with my traps and delts. My shoulder bones widened to better accommodate the new muscle mass. My — oh fuck — I was getting pecs… better than the modest ones I sported before. Slabs of manly chest muscles sprouted from my front and hung weightily; okay, nothing like Grandad’s, but hey, I shared much of his genetics, and now he’d revealed to me something about this place that turned men into gods. My abs and obliques tightened and toned up, sprouting bulges that made my midsection look beautiful. I looked down at myself and watched as six bellies popped out of my abdomen and became ripped and hard. My six-pack was better than it had ever been. I fanned out my arms to better accommodate my new lats. I couldn’t wait to see myself in the mirror. I felt tickled by the muscles that sprouted from my back, and I instantly shot up in the dick department. I didn’t care about having a boner. I didn’t want this feeling to end. My legs, too, gained size, with defined cords of muscle that stretched my skin tight. My calves grew big and hard and I marveled at the veins that effortlessly popped out of them. I brought my arms up to form a double biceps pose. I looked at each taut but prominent upward bulge, and my dick got harder and harder. “Fuck, Grandad. This is… it’s… it’s… incredible,” I exclaimed, completely in muscle-growth reverie. Was it okay to be this self-absorbed? I didn’t care. I never wanted this feeling to end. But it was over all too quickly. Maybe this was a dream. I pinched myself to see if I would wake up. The pinch itself was interesting. I could barely grab any skin. My body fat was far less than it had been. I’d gained quality muscle, nothing else. “Huh,that’s it?” “For now, lad. But you’ve proven something to me. The truffles work best at the beginning. The more we eat, however, the less effective they are. To get to my size you have to put in serious training. Lately I’ve been spending most of my waking hours just bodybuilding, and bodybuilding, and body-fucking-building. But it’s not enough. To achieve my ultimate goal, which is ultimately endless, I guess… I’ll need help to fully unlock the potential of these truffles.” I was now hooked on a feeling. That feeling was muscle-growth. “I want to be huge, Grandad. It’s got to happen,” I almost barked anxiously. I flexed my left bicep over and over, twisting my wrist and squeezing my fist so as to make my forearm pop like crazy. With my other hand I cranked one off, not even realising I was masturbating in front of my Grandad. He didn’t seem to mind. “You’ll get there. After all, you’ll have the best trainer. But it’s not going to be easy. When I first grew after tasting a truffle, I gained a little more than you did. I was already big from weightlifting. But I wasn’t a bodybuilder; I’d never had that kind of conditioning. But a few more truffles changed that.” To emphasise, he matched me pose for pose. We growled and goofed about for a bit, enjoying our muscles and our erections. Grandad really felt and behaved younger than his years. I wanted him to be a pal as well as a mentor. “Next time I found a better quality truffle. I ate it all, but gained a little less muscle than before. This has been going on for almost two years. Of course, I don’t always find good quality truffles. I tried experimenting with different varieties. I’d go out into the wilderness and uproot whole trees: poplar, spruce, ash etcetera. I replanted them here. I hoped, somehow that if their root structures produced truffles, that I could sort of mix the spores about, to create new strains. But the supplanted trees didn’t thrive. The oaks always overwhelmed them. So I’m basically left with one variety of truffle.” “But all we need is one variety, right? These things are magical,” I added. He nodded. “Well there is an exact science to it. I contacted a scientist colleague of mine from way back. I’ve been supplying him with truffles for over a year now. The results have been mixed, but he’s been working to isolate the muscle-growth properties of the truffles using radiation and various refining techniques. So far the results have been promising. I’m waiting for him to get back to me soon so I can get a concentrated dose. But he moves around a lot, due to the somewhat unethical nature of his experiments.” He paused to lose himself to his thoughts again. I could tell he was dreaming of getting absolutely HUGE! But if muscle-enhancing truffles weren’t enough, there was more to discover at Ridge Farm. He took me to one of three rectangular white outbuildings, the ‘sheds’ I’d seen upon my arrival the day before. Each one was devoid of windows, and the only way in was through a single, heavily padlocked door. There was also a thumb scanner (very fancy). He unlocked the padlocks and placed his thumb on the scanner. A red light on the panel turned green and there was a little ‘beep’ sound. He showed me in. There was nothing inside but a stairwell that led underground. Overhead a fluorescent light hummed more loudly than I cared for. He led me down a passageway that seemed to go on forever. His shoulders scraped the sides of the passage and he commented on this: “I’ll have to widen this passage. Getting too big for it. I like the feeling.” Eventually we stopped. There was nowhere else to go. The passageway ended, opening out into a roundish space, and dominated by what appeared to be a large, black metal wall. Track lighting along the ceiling of the shaft gave us plenty of illumination. “I found this quite by accident. I was clearing some trees to make land for ploughing, shortly after I bought the farm. I didn’t know at the time I would become a truffle farmer. I just wanted to get down and work the land and see what inspired me. It helped me with the grief process, I guess. “I wasn’t anywhere near the size I am now; I’d not yet discovered the truffles. But the building above is where a sinkhole once formed beneath my feet. I fell twenty feet into this shaft, although back then I had to crawl through it. I’ve widened it since then, and put in the lighting. I thought I was done for, but I could see where I was going, when really I should have been blind in the darkness. There was something down here emitting light.” He paused to allow me to take it all in. Suddenly he had me thinking of spacemen. “Feel the ground. It feels warm. And somewhat soft. At least when I fell I didn’t break anything, although I’d dislocated my shoulder. And it hurt like hell. But I was made of tough stuff, even back then. Here, feel the metal wall, too.” I did just that, and I could feel vibrations and a little heat emanating from the wall. “Where we are now is directly below the field of oak trees where the truffles grow. Something beyond that wall is providing them with the muscle-growth properties. Something I’m determined to discover. There’s only one problem.” I looked at him with all the incredulity I could muster. This was so much to take in; it bordered on surreal. “I can’t get through that wall. I’ve tried everything short of blowing the shit out of it and risking destroying the oaks above. No more oaks means no more truffles. There is only one way to get through that wall,” said Grandad somberly. I said nothing, but I already knew what his answer would be. “We’re going to bodybuild. We are going to build our fucking bodies to gigantic proportions. That’s the key to getting through this wall. Brute strength. Enough of it will reap the ultimate reward. Forget everything about yourself that came before this day, lad. From now on Stephen Ridge is a bodybuilder. And may we both be damned if you don’t become as big as me… or even bigger.” I was reeling from this. I actually felt light-headed as my cock got harder still. And it felt huge when I held it in my hand, rubbing it gently as I quietly got off to my Grandad’s plan. “Oh fuck… I’m gonna come. Grandad, I can’t fucking hold it in. Suh-sorry for… this… unnnnnghhhh!!!!” I just about managed to get my dick out of the jock pouch before shooting a big, salty load at the very wall we were now both determined to breach. Grandad didn’t mind. We were both men; NO! Not men. We were bodybuilders. Grandad soothed me with nothing but fondness and conviction. He believed in me. So much had happened in less than a day, but my path in life was now set out before me. I had to ask something: “What if we do get through that wall — when we’re both big enough and strong enough — what then? What if whatever’s behind that wall is locked in there for a reason?” “We’ll never know unless we try. It’s a mystery I need solved.” And as if to emphasise his point, Grandad pushed against the wall. He pressed with all of his strength, grunting noisily as he channeled every last ounce of his incredible might. His body exploded with size and power. His skin almost burst apart from the strain of new muscles bulging, getting impossibly bigger. Veins erupted all over him, carrying blood to every muscle fiber. “WHY WON’T IT FUCKING MOVE?????” For the first time since I’d been here, his exertions got the better of him. But his body looked beautiful beneath a patina of sweat that made his muscles glisten. “Hey… it’s okay, Grandad. Give it time. When I’m as big as you, we’ll both bring it down.” I placed a reassuring hand on his bicep. I felt its power and its hardness. It was mind-blowing. I had another question. “You said that each time you eat a truffle its effects are lessened. But if that’s so, how come you look like you’re growing right in front of my eyes?” A valid question, I thought. “Let me show you the next building to this one,” he said simply. At that we headed back to the surface, leaving the ancient mystery of the metal wall behind. The next building was locked the same way as the first. Grandad soon had us inside. My jaw dropped. The interior was about sixty feet by thirty. And it was crammed full of bushels of truffles, all of which had been cleaned thoroughly. They were bigger and smelt mustier than the one I’d eaten earlier. “They’re better quality truffles. I’ve been stockpiling them. They’re worth hundreds of millions of pounds. Occasionally — maybe one out of several thousand — I find an absolute pearl. A truffle of extremely high quality. I’ve found ten of them so far, each one weighing about six pounds. I sent two to my colleague for his research. The other six… well, this is why I’m the size I am today. And bodybuilding, of course. It’s how I continue to make massive gains. The better quality truffles reap the greatest rewards. Then I grow, so I can lift heavier weights and eat larger amounts. Rinse and repeat, lad.” I was held aghast by this revelation. “Please tell me you have more of them left. I want to grow huge so badly, Grandad.” My appeal didn’t fall on deaf ears. “I kept one for you, yes, lad. However, I’m a little reluctant for you to try it just yet.” Panic rose in me. I had been bitten by the muscle-growth bug, and now I was addicted. I wanted more, so much more. “But if I get huge now, we’ll be able to get through that wall sooner. What if there are even greater ways to grow our muscles beyond that wall? It could be a spaceship that crashed here thousands of years ago. Or… or… it could be the meaning of life or shit like that. Grandad, don’t hold back on me now. Not after showing me all this.” If I sounded frantic, I couldn’t help it. I was a kid denied sugar all of his life who’d suddenly discovered a lollipop. “It’s the best quality I’ve ever found. I could have easily used it on myself, to maybe pack on another five hundred pounds or more. But I’m sixty-four years old. You, however, are still going through puberty. That means you still have elevated levels of growth hormone in you. You’re not done growing yet. I’m a little scared to give you such a hefty dose so soon. You need to be introduced gradually to such potency. You could potentially grow to thousands of pounds. Your height would be incalculable. And if you consider my hulk-out rage from last night, and the damage it did, you could be out of control with testosterone- and truffle-fueled outbursts you may not be able to suppress.” He stopped talking, but rubbed my shoulder soothingly. “We need to do this right,” he said after a time. “You just need to trust your Grandad.” I calmed down and nodded my understanding. I then asked: “What’s in the third building?” “Something you need to see. I warn you… it’s not for the faint of heart,” my Grandad cautioned. “I need to see it. Please.” I had my cool head back. I was thinking clearly. Grandad nodded and so we went to the third building. It was just a big refrigerator. I felt instantly cold, but it didn’t seem to bother Grandad. It looked like a room where autopsies are carried out. And I wasn’t wrong. There was a large reinforced table in the centre of the room. A hulking mass lay on it, covered with a shiny, metallically-woven blanket. “One of the pigs was pregnant when I got them. She was the first to ingest what I believe might have been a high-quality truffle,” my Grandad said. He removed the blanket from the elephant-sized mass. The thing underneath was quite dead. It was the biggest pig I’d ever seen. It was also hugely muscled. “She died giving birth to it. She had three in all; two females. This was the male. I think the effects of the truffles only affect males. That’s why the mother and its siblings weren’t affected. It grew to this size in three days. But the critter was brain-damaged and couldn’t use its legs; a mercy, I guess. Had it gotten loose, there’s no telling what damage it could have caused. I euthanized it with poison to stop its heart. It took a lot to kill it, too.” “Why do you keep it here?” I was a little horrified. I suddenly wanted to take Grandad’s advice and be careful where the truffles were concerned. “I know… I should be rid of it. My colleague, Dr. Weiss, took plenty of tissue samples for his research. He was based here, for a while. But he likes to move around for reasons I won’t go into.” “We should burn this to the ground, and everything in it. It doesn’t feel right having this here, Grandad”. “I agree. We’ll do that after we fix the fence and then have lunch.” I was eager to get to work doing chores around the farm, so I could test out my new muscles. I weighed myself on the regular bathroom scale. The readout said “277”. I was amazed. I’d gained over fifty pounds, just from chewing on a low-quality truffle. I couldn’t wait to break that scale and have to use the big one in the barn. Then I thought about the dead monster pig. But I trusted my Grandad. He was experienced in the use of the truffles — and learning more about them all the time — so I knew I would be fine as long as I followed his advice and learned all I could from him. I knuckled down to work, eat, learn… and grow! ONE YEAR LATER Rod came in a massively long spurt as his dick responded to his third time eating a truffle, each one of better quality than the last. It never got stale to watch him engulfed in the throes of orgasmic muscle-growing bliss. His response to the truffles had been even better than mine. Okay, he didn’t share the exceptional Ridge genetics, but he’d already packed on more than one hundred pounds of muscle after just two truffles. We had to respect the potency of these miraculous, earthy fruits. Too much too soon could be catastrophic. I had my ‘little’ Mr Olympia in Rod, now. But he wouldn’t be little much longer. His growth was phenomenal so far, as was mine and Grandad’s on a daily basis. “Are you ever done jizzing?” I laughed when his body shuddered near the end of his climax. Even though I outmuscled him by nearly three thousand pounds, seeing him react to a growth spurt of his own, always made my dick super-hard. At thirty-six inches long, and twenty inches thick, my dick was beyond formidable. I couldn’t wait for Rod to get big enough so I could fuck him without ripping him a second arse hole. “I’m a major jizz machine, Ste,” said Rod, cupping as much spunk as he could so he could give it to me as a tasty treat. I loved to taste all that my boyfriend could provide. Today marked our sixth month as a couple, so it was an anniversary of sorts. A lot had happened in a year, but I’ll keep it brief. Grandad continued to bodybuild and grow bigger and bigger. I benefited from his mentoring so well, and also from controlled but consistent doses of high-grade truffle. It so happened that only the best quality truffles didn’t perish, so most of what Grandad had stockpiled in the second white building eventually turned to mush. But they made great compost, as Grandad hated to waste anything. When his height reached twelve feet and his weight close to eight thousand pounds, Grandad decided we needed to move. I was fast approaching eight feet in height and I weighed just over three thousand pounds. We needed a third body to help bring down the mysterious underground wall. So far Grandad and me could only dent it, but it proved that we were getting stronger and eventually, one day, we’d get beyond it and find out the secret to the truffles. But we were too big now to avoid eventually drawing unwanted attention. Okay, living pretty much in isolation helped, and the good folk from the village nearby were okay living near two amazing giant muscle men (with a third well on the way to massive ‘muscledom’). They would keep our secret. Still, though, Grandad felt somewhat exposed. With help from Doctor Weiss, we moved in secret to an isolated island off the west coast (airlifted by helicopter inside a metal cargo container under cover of darkness is no way to travel, believe you me). There we could live a happy life, build another farm and continue to bodybuild our incredible physiques. I went back to see Rod three months after moving to Ridge Farm. By then I looked bigger and better than any Mr Olympia winner. Rod couldn’t believe it was me, and when he popped an instant boner at first sight of me, I knew then what I’d secretly suspected all along. He was as gay as I am. Okay, he’d accidentally got Cindy Fleming pregnant, but they split up when he admitted this to her, and she didn’t want the baby anyway on the grounds she was too young to be a mother. So she put the tyke up for adoption. This left Rod a free agent. When he saw the bodybuilder I’d become after just three months, he had plenty of questions. So he listened when I told him my amazing secret. He wanted in, although he was cautious. I talked it over with Grandad, and he agreed that Rod should come live with us. I craved a boyfriend, and we needed a third huge bodybuilder to help bring down that wall. Grandad was now very rich after investing some of his monies earned from regular truffle farming in the stock market. He could afford to employ a permanent security team to guard Ridge Farm on the mainland. As soon as we were big enough — and we needed to get Rod up to a massive size, too — we’d return secretly to the underground shaft to work on the wall. Grandad wanted Rod and me to have a special day, just to ourselves. So he packed us a hefty lunch of about a million calories to get us through the day. We were down on the beach on the south side of the island. The spray from the ocean felt delicious on our naked muscle-bods. It was a strikingly beautiful summer afternoon. This place really was a paradise. It was the ideal habitat where muscle-gods could grow in private and not give a shit that we’d outgrown the regular world in favour of our own veritable Olympus. “We should have asked Gordon to join us, you big bodybuilding bulge-monster,” said Rod, and I loved it when he called me playful names like that. Then the truffle kicked in, and he began to grow. It wouldn’t be as much as the last time, as the effects of the truffles diminished with each use, so he’d have to hit the weights big time if he was ever to catch up with me. But he got more and more beautiful with every pound of muscle gained. I, too, had a lot of catching up to do with Grandad. He really was something to behold. Today he was tending to the oak saplings and truffles he’d salvaged from the mainland plantation. He’d decided to raze the original oaks to the ground and destroy any chances of truffles falling into the wrong hands. A muscle-growth epidemic would prove disastrous. Now that the oaks were no more, he decided he’d nothing to lose trying out explosives on the wall. As he’d suspected, the C4 did nothing. But the new oak plantation on the island was doing well, so far. Thanks to the compost formed of the spoiled batches of stockpiled truffles, the new oaks grew at an extremely accelerated rate. Within a year they were already nurturing new truffles in their root structures. Now and again Grandad would find a high-quality one, and he was only too happy to share it with me and Rod. His desire to grow bigger and stronger would always be with him, and we had the power to grow forever, if we so desired. But he usually took a slightly smaller dose of truffle than he provided to me and Rod. We needed to grow, and get bigger and stronger. So much bigger. We never wanted this feeling to end. Rod packed on even more muscle as we rolled around on the beach making love. I let him enter me often, and soon he’d be big enough for me to fuck him. I really couldn’t wait for that day. Later we ate a lot of food, then made love again. We went for dips in the ocean and tested our strength by hurling boulders around. Rod got a great pump out of lifting weights he couldn’t even attempt prior to his latest growth spurt. “One day we’ll get through the wall, all three of us,” I said to him as we lay on the beach, tired from our exertions. He was small compared to me, but I loved to engulf him in my massive musculature whilst cooing softly to him in his ear. “I hope the power to grow even huger is in there. It has to be if it’s been feeding the roots supporting the truffles all this time,” said Rod. “Yeah we need to get huge. I’d love to one day make Grandad look like a baby standing next to me,” I quipped. “He won’t like that,” came back Rod’s jovial remark. I loved him so much. I kissed him over and over. “But what’ll he be able to do to me? I’ll be the biggest bodybuilder ever. He’ll have to step aside and let a real man take charge. GRRRRR!!!!” I made a huge single biceps pose. At my command sixty-six inches of rock hard, steel muscle flexed and bulged, big enough to almost blot out the sun. Rod grew instantly hard again. Then we fell asleep in each other’s arms and only when the rising tide lapped at our exceptional muscle-bods, did we rouse ourselves awake and head back to New Ridge Farm. It had been a good day. But it could only get better. Grandad was making beef stew. Even MORE amazing muscle growth to come, and will the secret of what's behind the wall eventually be revealed?
  5. LJackson

    m/m Scally Teen Bully Adventure

    Andy wiped the sweat from his bench with a towel, and then the sweat from his brow. He was done for the day, and at last it was time for him to drink his shake and go home. Andy always worked hard in the gym – it meant a lot to him. Anyone who has been bullied will know what it means to get tough. He walked back to the changing room, feeling the endorphin rush, the ache in his limbs and pectorals, the bulk of his pump. At the start of the summer holiday, he hadn’t had a clue what he was doing. He had been so skinny he could barely push open the door to the gym. Now he looked like an athlete. A skinny athlete, fine. An athlete with the barest bit of muscle. It was enough. For now. He swept through the changing room door, pulled his vest with difficulty over his pumped upper body, kicked off his sneakers, jockstrap, shorts. He walked to the shower and luxuriated in the heat on his body – and the feeling of being bigger. Bigger than the old Andy. And bigger than – them. It felt so good. He turned off the shower, walked out of the cubicle and that was when he saw them. The lads from the estate. Lee. Dean. They were dressed in the usual scally boy uniform: white trainers and socks, black Adidas tracksuit and white t-shirts. Lee was in a black baseball cap and wore a thick chunky silver chain over his t-shirt and Dean had a skinny gold chain with a little cross hanging from it. They were sitting by his gym kit, waiting for him. Lee pretended not to have seen him. He picked up Andy’s jockstrap and sniffed deep. ‘Fuck,’ he said, ‘that fucking reeks. Must belong to some little poofter gym bunny.’ ‘Yeah, stinks of sweat, disgusting little bum bandit must get fucked in it when he’s not working out.’ ‘Hello lads,’ said Andy. ‘Haven’t seen you in a few months.’ ‘Whoa, fuck me,’ said Lee, looking him up and down. ‘Look at this, Dean, it’s Arnold fucking Schwarzenegger.’ ‘Or is it a little baby bird?’ ‘Cross between the two, I reckon.’ Andy grinned. ‘Take a good look while you talk your shit. I’m not huge but I'm pretty big. Bigger than either of you losers.’ He curled a bicep. ‘You’re nothing now. I’m in control.’ He pulled a ‘most muscular’. ‘And I’m only going to get bigger and bigger. Stronger and stronger. More powerful.’ The two scallies stared at him, taking in the new contours of his physique. For years he had been their bitch. Now the tables had turned. ‘Okay, so it’s true. You’ve been dedicated,’ said Lee, standing up. ‘And it’s paid off. You’ve really changed.’ ‘We heard you’d been working out,’ said Dean. ‘Thinking you could fight back.’ ‘And you know what,’ said Lee, ‘it would have worked. You’re already bigger than I thought you would be.’ ‘You’ll be getting all the local daddies chasing your arse, won’t you, poofter,’ said Dean, and spat on the changing room floor. Andy felt himself getting hard at their words. Fucking hell, he thought, not now. ‘Maybe I will,’ he said, folding his big arms. Fuck, he thought. I’m naked in front of them and I’m more intimidating than they expected. ‘Well, enjoy that, you fucking queer,’ said Lee. ‘But don’t go thinking you’re safe.’ ‘Not from us,’ said Dean. ‘I have nothing to fear from two skinny little chavs,’ said Andy. ‘Maybe not,’ said Lee. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little brown medicine bottle. ‘But we’re not staying that way for long.’ He unscrewed the bottle and knocked back half the contents, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Come on, you cunt,’ said Dean, ‘give me the other half.’ Lee extended the hand with the bottle toward his mate. He was breathing hard suddenly, and the hand was shaking. Dean took the bottle quickly. ‘What’s going on?’ said Andy, suddenly nervous. ‘We’re catching you up, gay boy,’ said Lee. He unzipped his tracksuit top and threw it on the floor. His face was a little flushed, his teeth were gritted, and his breathing was getting harder. He ran a hand over his white t-shirt, the cloth flapping around his skinny frame. He swallowed, and swallowed again. And the neck suddenly thickened. Around the neck, Lee’s shoulders flexed and broadened, like wings opening. He raised his little stick arms as if flexing his biceps. He had no biceps to flex, and then suddenly they were swelling inside the white t-shirt, filling it out. ‘Fuck!’ Lee gasped. ‘That feels fucking good!’ He was as big as Andy in the shoulders. Now his pecs were growing to match. The t-shirt went suddenly taut with a twang. The chunky silver chain that had hung loose on his neck was now riding on a pair of pecs rounder and prouder than Andy’s pert little ones. Lee’s hands moved down to caress his waist, and the t-shirt stretched tighter to show thick hard abdominals that had suddenly appeared. ‘Oh yeah,’ said Lee. ‘I’m gonna be beach body ready this year.’ He looked ridiculous, an adult gymnast’s body on a teenager’s legs. But suddenly he convulsed, bent over, and when he stood up straight away, he had gained several inches in height. ‘This is better than sex,’ said Lee, moaning. His hand was actually on his cock. ‘Fucking hell,’ said Dean. ‘Is that gonna fucking happen to – gah!’ He sank to his knees as the chemical took hold. ‘Holy shit, here I come!’ His tracksuit suddenly looked moulded to his physique. He looked up and grinned at Andy, a mad stare. ‘How’s that, you gay cunt,’ he said. ‘All fucking equal now, right?’ ‘Oh shit!’ gasped Lee. ‘How do you – how do you fucking – how you fucking stop the fucking thing working?’ They both stared at him. The height he had gained suddenly swelled by another couple of inches. The tracksuit bottoms were clinging to his hips now. The t-shirt was riding up to show off abdominals swelling into a bodybuilder gut. As his shoulders grew taller, the t-shirt was drawn up to just cover his chest. Then the lats expanded outwards and the pectoral muscles swelled outwards and Lee panted. ‘It’s fucking strangling me!’ he gasped. The shirt burst down the front and hung in two big shreds off his huge form. The silver chain was now getting tight on his throat, but it showed off the massive mounds of his pectorals as if that had been its original purpose. Lee’s teenage face above it looked surreal, but now he grinned; his gasp had turned to a laugh, several octaves deeper than before. He advanced on Andy and effortlessly put a huge hand on the lad’s shoulder. ‘Thought you were big, didn’t you?’ he growled. ‘Well, look at me now, gym bunny. Look who’s in charge now?’ ‘Yeah,’ said Dean. ‘And it’s only just fucking well begun.’ To be continued
  6. rey906

    no sex muscle pills part1 &2

    hey this is my first attempt at writing a story so any feedback would be appreciated, if its good ill probably continue it, ideas for stories or things to add in the comments would be appreciated. Returning home from the gym Alex was about to strip and go for a shower when his door bell rang, opening the door he collected a small parcel from the post man before closing his door and rushing back to his room. Opening the parcel reveal a small bottle of pills, his exitement began to rise, "finally" he thought his muscle pills had arrived. At 5'8 and 153 lbs his body was far from impressive although several years of gym had give him an athletic body with almost 14" biceps toned abs and thin pecs but despite that he hadnt been able to push past it. quickly reading the instructions Alex learned that each pill should add about 5lbs of muscle. However if he had read more than the front of the bottle he would see the side effects ' side effects include: height growth, penis growth, testicular growth,increased semen production, increased libido' 'WARNING DO NOT CONSUME AFTER EXERCISE THIS CAN RESULT IN UPTO 10X MUSCLE GAIN'. opening the bottle Alex took out one pill and stood infront of the mirror taking a look a his body "time to see what 5lbs more looks like" he said to himself, his cock stirring at the image of his body becoming huge. "here goes nothing" he said as he swallowed the pill and waited, less than a minute late his body started to feel hot his cock had swelled to full mast and all 6.5 inches were straining against his shorts. His muscles felt pumped his veins pushing against his skin, "yess, grow" he groaned before he doubled over his abs contracting, before bening pulled back up as his lower back started to fill out. My thighs spazamed and shook as they swelled filling my lose shorts and pulling them tight, his cock outline visable pushed against the tight fabric. His calves grew into muscular diamonds. he started to grow taller growing to 5'11" his t shirt rode up exposing the bottom bricks of the 6 pack that was now outlined through the material, "fuck yessss" he moaned as his upper body started to swell his pecs thickening and pushing out into slabs of must that over hung his deep abs. the shirt strained as his back widened sheets of muscle fighting for space forcing his shoulders wider. The seems straining as large lats cascaded down his sides. At the same time is taps and delts grew , traps curved down from his thick neck as is almost nonexistant delts balooned into boulders. Biceps began to bulge growing bigger and harder until his sleeves struggles to contain them. his forarms thickened to match the swollen guns. A low moan emininated from his throat as his head rolled back, his glute grew into square blocks of muscle eating the seam of the shorts, groaning lounder as his cock started to swell, he watched in the mirror as it snaked further down his thigh, the fabric was so tight the outline of the bulbous head was visible, his balls churned growing and filling up any remain space in his shorts, a wave of testosterone washed over him as the thick members started to drool pre. "yess"he grunted feeling the growth wind down, he raised his arm seams slitting and pumped it the ball of muscle swelling on command causing a spit peak to rise several vein rivers ran down the mountinous muscle, the peak rose splitting the sleeve of the t shirt. Grinning he looked back at his reflection in awe of what he had become, "5 lbs really does make a biiiig difference" ....
  7. gameboy487

    m/m/f Grow a Better Husband

    This is a little something I decided to start working on. I don't put out a lot of content on here, as real life is so busy, but this idea has been running through my head for the last couple of weeks so I wanted to put it down while it's fresh. The first part doesn't technically have any growth in it yet, but it definitely builds up to it. Enjoy and let me know what you think! Part I “So we are for real doing this? Because once I hand him this, there’s no going back.”, I said seriously to my brother, Seth. “Hell yeah, man. William needs to gain some weight! He’s nothing but skin and bones!” So let me fill you in real quick. My brother, Seth, and I have a sister. Her name is Mckenzie. She recently married, adding a new brother to the family - William. He’s seriously a great dude. He was literally the perfect match for our little sister. We couldn’t be happier to add him as a part of the family. He was very attractive - had deep, blue eyes and curly blonde hair. There was just one problem. The dude was nothing but skin and bones. He stood a tall 6’5” but he couldn’t have weighed more than 140lbs of nothing. He was fairly active, as he would have to be since he married my sister. She ran 5 miles every morning religiously, rain or shine. So he is fairly active, so he has a little bit of toned muscle. He’s definitely not flabby. Even then, 140lbs spread across a 6’5” frame renders a pretty skinny dude. We just couldn’t have that. All the men in our family were big, burly men. Our father was truly a brute of a man weighing in at a solid 400lbs of muscle and flab. Seth and I were respectively hovering around 275lbs and 300lbs (Seth, 25, was the younger of the two of us, Mckenzie was the baby at 23). We weren’t in to the cut and shredded bodybuilder look though. We looked more like off season bodybuilders or powerlifters, as we were covered in thick coatings of dark hair, muscles bulging with a healthy layer of fat around them. Seth was the shorter of the two of us, so his 275lbs actually looked bigger than my 300lbs. His legs were his strongest feature, literally writhing with power and the slightest movement. Each leg was probably bigger around than William’s entire body, honestly. Seth’s bulging muscle gut jutted proudly from his body, but not more so than his incredible, hairy pecs. Those things were so thick and juicy, you could balance a whole jug of milk on top of them with no effort. I looked pretty much the same, just a little taller and a little heavier. I was slightly more mobile due to my height advantage. We were constantly aiming for the beloved 400lbs marker of our father and beyond, eventually. But we knew Mckenzie really needed a real man as a husband, not this twink that she had married. We had tried to talk William into working out with us and getting him on some mass gainer, but he refused. He claimed that he had no time and interest in weight lifting, and he was completely satisfied with his current weight and size. I call bullshit. What man wouldn’t want to be a fucking massive muscle beast? So that brings us to now. We had purchased this new protein powder that a buddy of ours had told us about that had incredible results. The protein powder also supposedly had a way of effecting a person’s acceptance to suggestions. Using this stuff, it would be easier to convince him to come work out with us and bulk him up quickly in the process. Hell, we’d use the stuff as well. Maybe it’d help us get to that beloved inhuman mass we were seeking sooner, rather than later. So as well as being a fitness nut, Mckenzie was also an incredibly gifted singer, classically trained, the whole shebang. She had landed the opportunity of a lifetime. She was moving to London for three months to be apart of the revival cast of Les Miserables. She was only an ensemble member, but still - what an experience! And perfect timing for us to enact our plan. While she was gone for the summer, William was going to move in with us. We called it ‘bonding time’ with our new brother. We’d obviously gotten to know him, while they had dated, but they lived on the other side of the country, so him moving in with us for the summer was going to give us a chance to really get to know William, while hopefully growing him. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I had just landed at O’Hare and made my way out to baggage claim, where I was met by my two hulking brothers-in-law. They were seriously just so massive. I could never imagine being that huge and muscular. And hairy. I absentmindedly rubbed my toned, hairless torso, while walking towards them, thankful that I had managed to stay as fit as I had through college and the first year of marriage. “William! Bro! So glad you are here!” boomed Tyler as he thundered towards me and picked me up in a bear hug. My face was literally shoved in between the crevice of his massive, hairy chest. He smelled of pure man. He put me back down, grinning and popped his pecs a few times. Seth approached soon after and gave me a clap on the back, nearly sending me hurtling to the ground. Again, I couldn’t imagine having so much power, that you unintentionally almost knock someone over just by patting them on the back. It was disgusting. We hopped in the truck and headed to the house. They lived in the suburbs of Chicago, a quaint town called Naperville. It was a solid 45 minute drive from the airport to the house. We arrived at the house and as I was getting settled in the guest room, Seth came in with a chocolate shake and handed it to me. He wanted me to try it and see how it tasted. He said he was thinking about opening up a little soda shop and he wanted my opinion on the quality of his shakes. This was news to me, but I didn’t question it one bit. I took the shake from him and took a gulp. It tasted fucking incredible! It was seriously the best things I had ever tasted. Before I knew it, I had literally inhaled the entire drink, slurping up the remains at the bottom of the glass, hungrily. Seth just grinned at me as I started feeling kind of funny - like I wasn’t all there. “By the way, bro. Me and Ty are about to head to the gym and make some gains. I know you aren’t into that sort of thing, but if you wanted to come along, we would seriously love it.” He as right. I absolutely loathed lifting weights. It was boring and cumbersome. But at the same time, there was a small part nagging at me, saying that I should at least go with them. Maybe I could do some cardio while they did their lifting like a bunch of lunks. “You know what? I think I will join you guys. I could really go for a good run after sitting on that plane all day.”, I said. Seth looked annoyed, like he honestly wanted me to work out with them. They are so out of my league, I wouldn’t ever dream of working out with them anyways. We hopped in the car and headed toward the gym. As we stepped in, and I saw the massive expanse of gym equipment at our disposal, I was suddenly overcome with the urge to lift weights. We ended up doing a full body workout, working our way through chest, arms, back, legs, shoulders, even some ab circuits, but no cardio. Three hours later, three grueling hours later, I literally hobbled back to the truck, absolutely spent. Seth and Tyler commented on how impressive my lifts were, especially for my first time, and how well I was able to keep up with them. I didn’t know how I did it either. The entire workout seemed to fly by and take forever at the same time. I couldn’t explain it. I was in a sort of haze the entire time, almost like I didn’t even have control of my body. We got home, ate a hearty meal, Seth gave me another of his shakes and I downed it quickly and happily and immediately crashed. I was so exhausted between the day’s travels and that intense workout I had just had. I awoke the next morning, and I felt very strange, bloated maybe? I had expected to feel sore as fuck this morning after yesterday’s workout, but I felt fine, maybe a little tight, but not sore. I rolled out of bed and groggily made my way to the bathroom to take a piss. I flipped on the light and was absolutely shocked at what greeted me in the mirror. I was bigger.
  8. dredlifter

    m/m My Valentine's Day Fantasy Man

    So as you can guess from the title, I was really hoping I could get this posted last week. But alas, life got in the way. Hopefully you're still up for a little romance story in the spirit of V-Day. ++++++++++++++++++++++++ There’s nothing worse than having to work late on a Friday. And I don’t care if it’s an hour or just ten minutes, once that clock strikes 5:00pm I need to be gone. Most of the time I am able to bug out 30-60 minutes early on Fridays, but alas, today I had a proposal that needed to be completed by 5:00pm. All of my office mates had already left, lucky bastards. Today was Valentine’s Day and flowers and candies littered the desktops and they had all left to prepare for their own evening dates. Finally at 4:33pm my last quotation arrived and I was able to finish my proposal and make sure it showed up in my outbox. With a huff I packed up my computer laptop and departed the office at 5:04pm. Still late. Ugh! On the drive home I couldn’t wait to get to the gym, my daily escape from office life. It’s what I jokingly call ‘Miller time’. Because my name is Miller and I love the gym. I love exercising my body, the rush of endorphins, how I’m able to release those stresses that build up over the day slogged in front of my computer screen. Not to mention, the added bonus of the potential to view some eye candy. The gym has been part of my near daily routine now for about 10 years. After college as I started to soften I made a commitment to keep myself in shape and I was proud to say that I had accomplished that goal. Now, you may be thinking that I’m some big sexy bulging bodybuilder stud with how dedicated I am to my gym. Well, I’d say I’m sexy at least. But the truth is that I was cursed, or blessed some would say, to be a true hardgainer with a jackrabbit metabolism. Now that’s not to say I’m a skinny either. With a decade of dedication I’ve built my 5’9 frame up to a solid 165 lbs. My wiry muscles are all evident when I take off my shirt, especially my abs. With my low bodyfat I have a pleasing vascularity and defined creases between the muscle groups. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve been called a stud before, and even a couple of young 120-lbs twinks had referred to me as a “muscle guy” in the past. My tight body combined with my good looks meant I’d never got any complaints. The only real thing I’ve had to learn to overcome was my shy and reserved personality. Thankfully as I’ve aged that has improved in tandem with the strides made in the gym. While I had a tight, ripped body, I’d accepted the fact that I’d never be a huge bodybuilder. And that was ok with me. Truth be told, in my fantasies I enjoy the idea of being a smaller guy to a big pumped stud. It’s a scenario that has played out in my mind countless times when I’m in the middle of my 45-minute cardio sessions. I do cardio five times a week. I do lift weights, mostly full body-type routines, another three times to ensure the muscle I do have stays prominent, but for the most part I could be classified as a cardio bunny. As I mentioned above, I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer and I’ve found those cardio sessions go by much quicker when I’m playing out a little fantasy in my mind. Sometimes I had even jotted them down on paper afterwards and submitted them to my favorite muscle fetish websites. Not gonna lie, I’ve received some excellent feedback on some of my tales. As soon as my legs start trudging along that belt my mind runs wild with sexy bodybuilder-centric fantasies. So there I was rushing to get home and get into the gym, get a good sweat on and relieve some stress before the weekend. Twenty-five minutes later I was in my gym and walking along on my regular treadmill, tucked away in a semi-private corner of the gym. From here I could see most of the gym while still remaining semi-concealed. Perfect for stud-gazing. I looked around and nobody else was there. Friday evenings were already notoriously dead. Most of the younger gym bros and babes were eager to get out and party, showing off their toned bods to attract similarly built mates. But even then, today was more dead than usual. Then I remembered again that it’s also Valentine’s Day. That would likely do it, I think. The remaining Friday stragglers are all probably are getting ready for a big Valentine’s day date, prepping and a primping for a night of romance. How cheesy. Ok, Ok. I’m not heartless. Truth be told that sounds amazing. In my 20’s I definitely thought the concept was pure cheese but now at 31 I could definitely see the appeal of a special night with a special someone. Especially if that someone had a square jaw and some huge biceps. After the five-minute warmup timer had ticked away its last few seconds I sped up the treadmill to my jogging speed. What should today’s scenario be?, I think to myself. Perhaps a reunion story. Something with two long separated friends and one is now Olympia-esque. Maybe a sexy librarian discovering secret muscle growth powder in a hidden closet? How about a macro-muscle story involving a giant jacked football coach? Maybe a humiliation story with one guy outgrowing and dominating his best friend. Naw, only weirdos are into that sort of thing. Plus, it’s Valentine’s day, so today’s scenario should lend itself to some romance. As I ran through the possibilities I, heard a soft clang of the gym door being opened and shut. Unable to avoid the slight distraction I look over to see what other unlucky schlub is going to be working out alone with me this Valentine’s. Immediately my spirits perk up as I recognize the man walking to the weight area across from me. He is, in simplest terms, the hottest man I’ve ever seen. He’s a regular at this gym and has been for a few years now. In fact…wait a minute. Oh damn! It’s been three years exactly since I first saw him. Three years ago on Valentine’s Day. I remember that vividly because just a week before my then-asshole boyfriend broke up with me. Yeah, right before Valentine’s Day. He’d been cheating on me with a supposedly straight hunk from the next city over. I was so distraught I decided to go the gym that day to try for forget that I was single and broken-hearted that Cupid’s day. Alas, that day quickly turned brighter as me and the other lonely gym-goers were treated to our first look at a new member. That day three years ago he had strutted in with a large duffel bag slung around his beefy shoulders. He was wearing a sleeveless gray shirt. Instantly it became clear to anyone that he was the new top stud of this gym. I remember praying to God that he wasn’t just visiting, that he had in fact enrolled. It seemed God was smiling down on me that day. From my typical perch atop the treadmill I stole glances to the weight area to watch him workout. At first he warmed up as I studies his features. At the time he looked to be a thirty-something with a ruggedly handsome face that would’ve made me feel extremely self-conscious if it weren't for the fact that it was also so welcoming. While his face exuded masculinity with his strong jaw, deep set eyes and wide brow, it also had a certain softness to it. He didn’t have the razor sharp looks of a male model, but frankly, the deep cut cheekbones never did much for me. I much preferred the handsome, approachable, next door, jock look…and hello Mr. Former-High-School-Quarterback. Or perhaps he’d been a linebacker with as naturally thick as his frame was, noticeable even under the blanket of muscles that coated him. To top it off he was rocking a short, clean cut beard that covered his cheeks, chin and wrapped around his mouth. No thick straggly wild beard on him, though he oozed enough testosterone he could easily grow one if he wanted. But no, it looked professionally groomed. On top of his head his hair was similarly trimmed. Short but not buzzed with just enough length to allow for slight upward styling toward the front. On that day his beard was mostly dark brown…but in the years since his beard and the sides of his head had started to just subtly become sprinkled with flecks of grey, which only emphasized his experienced sexual aura. As if he weren’t hot enough when he first walked in three years ago. As he warmed up that fateful historic day one of the gym’s trainers, Brienne, stopped by to welcome him to our facility. I had gotten to know Brienne fairly well during my years attending the gym so I made sure to have a chat with her after my workout to discuss this new slab of steak. As they spoke I saw him smile to here and holy mother… The corners of his cheeks spread outward as his sparkling straight teeth exposed themselves. A perfect smile. It just did not seem fair for the rest of manhood that such a perfect specimen could exist. And I haven’t even started talking about his body! What a body. It was a body that matched his face. While Brienne was a short woman, he towered over her indicating to me that he was well over 6 ft tall. I would later learn 6 ft 3 to be exact. Examining his exposed arms, which were rippling, vascular and tanned, along with the way his pecs pressed against his shirt and how his legs hugged his sweatpants, it was clear he was exceptionally developed. With my years of experience of ogling musclemen online I had pegged him at about 250-260 lbs comparing him to some other tall bodybuilders I stalked...er, "followed" on social media. His vascularity lead me to surmise that he was around or just under 10% bodyfat, meaning that he was impressively muscular. No doubt legitimate amateur bodybuilder big. That day he was doing a full body routine. A bit odd for a lifter of his caliber but I had guessed that he was simply taking the day to familiarize him with his new gyms’ weights and machines. Nonetheless, he attacked every exercise with fervor and worked up quite a sweat, soaking his gray shirt and giving his meaty arms a nice sheen. I was sad to depart the the treadmill once my session was complete since he had only worked about half of his muscle groups, but I forced myself to leave. I did not want to give away my muscle-stalker tendencies just yet. On the way out I stopped by the front desk for a quick chat with Brienne. As she saw me approach she mouthed the words “OH MY GOD” indicating her shared awe of the sexy stud. “Ok, Brienne, who is THAT guy?” “Oh you know, Miller. Can’t share that, gym privacy policy!” “You bitch. Spill the beans.” Brienne giggled before looking around. “His name is Hank Walker. Just moved here from Montana.” “Uhhh, of course it’s a hyper masculine name like that. And of course he's a huge sexy mountain man.” “He’s 34 years old and yes, he’s joining our gym.” “Perfect! Just three years older than me…” “Whatever, Miller, that daddy is gonna be mine!” “Ugh. You’re probably right. Guys like him are guaranteed to be straight.” And thus, that day three years ago started my stalker-ish obsession with Hank. We both tended to workout right after work, before the gym became busy with the younger crowd a bit later in the evening. And now that Hank was a regular member I was sure to avoid adjusting my schedule as much as possible. I wanted every opportunity I could to watch him workout from the safety of my treadmill. Of course, a couple of times a week I was afforded the opportunity to get nearer to him when I did my weights routine. It would take all my strength of will not to stare at him as he would lift on the bench next to me. Watching him workout was pure porn for me. I’m purely a muscle lover. When I watch porn, my favorite parts tend to be the foreplay where the guys flex and feel each other. I’ve never understood why so many porn studios hire these big muscular guys and then spend 90% of the video doing closeups of the penetration. Such a waste. Watching Hank’s muscles bunch and flex was hypnotizing, not just to me but to the other gym goers. Those first few weeks he was stopped often by other lifters complimenting him, asking for advice and just generally wanting to be next to this magnetic man. To his credit, he never once lost patience with them and was happy to engage with his new gym family. And if his new admirers lingered too long he would politely excuse himself back to his own workout. Not only was he tall, huge, handsome, he was extremely friendly and good-natured as well… Seriously, fuck this guy, right?!? He’s probably hung like a horse too. And judging by that full bulge, that seemed likely as well. I’ll never forget when he came up to talk to me one hump day afternoon. I was doing my fast paced walk on the treadmill to get warmed up. At this point he had been working out at my gym for a few months and we had exchanged a few silent nods in passing. The gym was especially deserted this Wednesday night and it was just us two and couple of older women using the machines. As I fidgeted with the controls I heard a deep sultry voice that would rival Sam Elliot and James Earl Jones. “Wow, dead in here isn’t it, treadmill guy.” His voice sent shivers down my spine as I turned my head to see his inviting face. I’d been eyeballing him for some time by now from the side but this was the first time I had looked him straight on. Of course, I noted how even though I was elevated six inches up on the treadmill this perfect man was tall enough that I was looking him right in the eyes. And those beautiful hazel yes. And his perfect symmetrical face. Somehow I found my resolve to address him. “”Treadmill guy?’” “Well yeah, I swear I see you on this treadmill every day.” “Well I supposed I’ll call you ‘dumbbell guy’ since you use them every day.” Instantly my throat tightened up, afraid that I had offended this titan. Thankfully he chuckled and his pecs rippled under his shirt. “Fair enough. I’m Hank. Thought I might as well say hi since I see you here all the time. Great dedication you got.” “Well that’s very nice of you to say since…um…you are obviously very dedicated too.” He grinned as I took the opportunity to scan him. “You are one big dude, Hank.” “Big is the goal! I guess you could say I dabble in bodybuilding.” With that he squared his shoulders with a half-flex. And yet with just that minor tensing he seemed to expand another six inches wider. “I’d say you more than dabble. You’re the biggest guy at this gym for sure.” He thanked me before one of those awkward, new acquaintance silences occurred. “Well it’s nice to meet you, Hank. I’m Miller,” I replied, hoping I had successfully hidden the fact that I knew his name months ago. “Treadmiller,” he spoke. “I’m sorry.” “So you’re Treadmiller. Ya know, Treadmill guy. Treadmiller.” “How very clever.” He smiled and laughed again. “Well that will help me remember your name. Don’t be a stranger, Treadmiller!” And with that he turned and sauntered to the free weights, letting me take in his expansive back and hugely bubbled ass. How could a guy so tall have and ass and legs that big? It’s not fair. From then on we would smile and wave to each other. I was more than happy to make any sort of connection to Hank. I was fully smitten. There wasn’t much more exciting to me than getting to watch Hank workout. One of my favorite things about him was that he was a true bodybuilder. I mean, anybody could see that he was a bodybuilder, sure. But he was constantly building his body. What I mean is, he was always GROWING. He wasn’t a body-maintainer. He was always building himself bigger and bigger. And sexier. Seeing him several times a week, at first it was hard to notice. Like any small changes to your own body that can occur, when you are familiarized with something it can be difficult to see progress. But over time it became apparent with little clues here and there. For example, when he did leg days he liked to wear this old light-orange Sunkist t-shirt that still had the sleeves. I could see why he wore it. He looked good in anything but the way that light fabric hugged his pecs, and delts, the way the sleeves perfectly hugged his biceps and triceps, was enough to make me gasp. It was one of those massive shirts that draped on his physique yet still evidenced the bulges underneath. Over some weeks I had thought I had seen that shirt get tighter and tighter…and then one day he came in and the sleeves were torn off. And he proceeded to do an arm workout. I had surmised that he had grown too big for it to be ‘comfortably’ loose so it had graduated into his repertoire of sleeveless upper body workout shirts. Not to mention the fact that he was lifting heavier and heavier weights. When he first started at our gym I remember watching in awe as he benched 355 lbs for a solid set of 10. It was when that had increased to 405 for 12 that I really gave his body a good look. Ok I always did that, but I started paying more attention. And sure enough, his pecs bulged outward and seemed to be crashing into his delts and biceps more and more when he was standing there relaxed. His traps were thickening and rising slightly higher and higher, creeping up his neck which was also expanding. His legs and ass, already enormous, had made some truly tremendous gains. Not to mention the fact the day Brienne had told me Hank had convinced the gym owner to purchase a set of 150, 175 and 200 lb dumbells! So he was constantly growing. Bigger and stronger. Hotter and sexier with each passing year. I noticed that he never had an offseason either. There were a few big guys at my gym, some who had even competed. It was something to watch all my former gym muses, the former biggest and studliest guys gather around and watch and gawk at Hank while he did his workouts. Ray whatshisname? Tyler whocares? They were like little boys next to Hank. My former muses often seemed to have cycles where they would bloat up to bulk and then cut down. Sometimes they would put on a ton of weight all at once, with a lot of fat baked in as well. But Hank…it’s like he was always one or two months out from a competition. He just slowly but steadily grew bigger and more muscular while never losing his striations, definition and vascularity. Knowing that he was always growing fueled my masturbatory sessions many times. Ok, in truth it was probably 75% of the time. Maybe 90%. Shut up, the guy was fucking HOT. And so back to the present day… As I ramped up my treadmill Hank made his way into the weight room. Glancing at me he give me a one hand salute and I returned the gesture. He must be in a bit of a hurry today, often he stops by to say a quick hi. I wonder with it being Valentine’s Day if he has a hot date tonight. Tonight is going to generate and excellent fantasy situation for me, I can already tell and my brains starts to run wild with the possibilities. One nice thing about Hank is that watching him is the perfect beginning for any fantasy. After he warms up he makes his way the dumbbells and an individual flat bench. Today is going to be a treat for me, I can tell. I had long ago memorized his workouts and I quickly recognized from his stretches and warmup sets that today was going to be a chest and biceps day. After some ‘light’ warmup sets with the 80 lb to 100 lb dumbbells that he stood up and stripped off his baggy t-shirt. Oh yes. A treat indeed. Hank was wearing a blank stringer-T that draped off his glorious tanned muscles, the tiny straps having no chance of covering any of his expansive torso. His traps and pecs were so large the straps left a deep gap under them like a rope bridge spanning a deep crevice. As I mentioned earlier, Hank was always growing and today he was in full on bodybuilder mode. Big, pumped and defined already and he was just starting. Even his shorts, which were by no means intended to be skin tight, hugged his massive legs and ass due to his hugeness. I watched with lust as he worked his way up to the 120s, 150s, 175s… then the biggest dumbbells in the gym…the 200 lb monsters. And his titanic body handled the weight masterfully. Each rep was performed with form and precision. Each time he pushed the weights up slowly yet forcefully, his pectoral pillows bunched upwards creating a deep ravine in between. Even though each rep was perfect, Hank would let out these deep sexy grunts of effort and his skin would flush and moisten with sweat. After his last rep he set the dumbbells down and even through the treadmill I could feel the THUD as 400 lbs were suddenly set on the ground. Mind you, he didn’t drop the weights, but setting down two 200 lb weights, it’s impossible not to cause a slight tremor. I swooned as I realized he could bench TWO of me easily, one in each hand. After racking the massive cylinders he quickly moved on to barbell bench press. Most gym bros start with this but in his current routine the intent was to go lighter and do more reps to force more blood into those pecs. Of course, if you’d never seen Hank bench, you would assume this was his first lift of the day. Why? Because he slapped plate after plate after plate on each side of the bar. Even after a few set of heavy dumbbell presses Hank proceeded to work up to a 405 lb bench press of 3 sets of 15. Just incredible power. My dick thickened as I listened the four plates on each side of the bar rattle and clang against each other. It was a white noise that signaled size and power were being built. By now Hank's shoulders and triceps were also pumped up due to their secondary support. After the last set he stood up, looked in the mirror and brought his elbows together to flex his pecs. Though he had a body to be one, Hank was not one of those gym bros who full on poses in the mirror. At least not in the middle of the weight room. Nonetheless as a sculptor of sinew he new how to examine himself and make sure his muscular clay was being molded as he saw fit. He moved on to incline dumbbell flies which afforded me another dick plumping view of his pecs mounding upward. I of course made a mental note how he was using the 80 lb dumbbells for flies, where most men couldn’t even simply flat bench that amount, including myself. He was power. He was masculinity. He was pure sex. He finished up his chest pump with with some elevated pushups to give himself a deep finishing burn. You would think a man of his size would struggle having to push that much bodyweight, but he proceeded to pump out 3 sets of 43, 37, and 34 reps respectively, but who’s counting? Me. I counted and watched every rep of my dream man’s workout. By now his pecs were jutting, swollen and red with pump. The tiny stringer left his perfect, perky nips exposed, though they weren’t always easy to see since his pecs were so large that his nips pointed downward. And so, after just 27 minutes he was done with his chest pump workout and what a pump it gave him. Now it was time for biceps. What self respecting muscle lover doesn’t enjoy a good biceps workout? Or better yet, watching an 37 year old uber stud complete a biceps workout. Hank started out with some hammer curls, the mass builders. Again he worked his way up the dumbbell rack pumping the big weights simultaneously with both arms. I took note how Hank rarely spent time down near the smaller weights. It was like anything under 40 lbs had little use for him. He finished his fourth set by eeking out 11 reps with the 90 lbs dumbbells. By now the effort was clear on his face. His chiseled face scrunched up and he squinted his eyes as he grueled his way through each rep. And if you thought he might have an ugly heavy-effort face you obviously have not been reading this story. Even his effort face was sexy as hell. The sets had their intended affect as his arms seemed to have added an inch or two just from the initial pump. Being such a tall and built guy, his arms easily had to have been over 20 inches when he started, he was probably now flirting with 22s or even 23s. Next he grabbed and easy-bar and loaded it up with 155 lbs and began to curl the taxed metal bar over and over. Now that he had worked out his overall arm thickness, the easy bar targetted those massive peaks. Peaks that I wanted to run my tongue over. And don’t get me started on that cephalic vein. What had started as a licorice-sized vein had engorged to something more akin to an air compressor hose. Arm muscles that enormous required a large diameter tube to transport the blood and nutrients to fuel his growth. While he was already vascular, by this point in the workout his body had become a network of veins threatening to break away from his engorged body. He shook out his arms and I watched mesmerized as the unflexed meat of his triceps swayed and wobbled. I swear even from across the gym I could feel the air being displaced by the movements of such a muscular titan. He finished up with preacher curls, this time lightening up the weight and ‘only’ using the 55 lb dumbbells. To really blast those peaks upward toward the sky. Even from my vantage point I could make out he split between the two muscle heads that give the biceps their name. After the third set Hank returned the weights to the rack and once again shook out his arms before flexing them to tightness at his side. His workout was one of the most erotic things I had ever seen. Sure, I’d spied him lifting before, but as he was continuously growing, this was the biggest and most pumped I’d ever seen him. Shit, even his legs looked pumped even thought this was all upper body. But when you pour as much effort into every rep, every set, as he does, it’s clear that an overall residual pump had been created. Hank then grabbed an elastic band and proceeded to some quick stretches to make sure all his mobility was intact. I sighed as my boner pressed against my hip, sad that he would be departing soon. Hank's workouts were always focused and expeditious, but today’s was even a step faster. Perhaps for this lovers holiday he had some lucky girl waiting for him tonight and he was in a hurry to get to her. Bitch. In my developing fantasy this hyper masculine man would be heading my direction as soon as his workout was finished and smother me with his muscles... By now my typical 45 minutes of cardio were up and I had slowed down the treadmill to a warm down walk. I prepared myself for Hank's departure but spotted him walking my way. My heart started beating faster as he neared. He usually left right after his weight session so I rarely got to see him at his biggest. All pumped. Sweaty. Massive. As he approached he looked me right in eye and gave me a warm smile. What could he possibly want with me? This tall, sexy bodybuilder could have anybody- “Are you getting lost in that pretty little head of yours again, babe?” He interrupted me with a smirk. The sexiest, most lust-filled smirk you can imagine. “Well don’t take too much more time in that head of yours, we’ve got that reservation tonight at the Red Orchid.” He chuckled and rested his big arms on the bars of the treadmill. Being this close I was bathed in his workout scent. A powerful aroma of testosterone, sweat, musk and a hint of deodorant. “I- I was just watching you workout.” His grin widened. Fuck he was smoldering when he smiled. “So you WERE having a gym fantasy, watching little ole me lift?” “I can assure you there is NOTHING little about you.” He glanced at his pumped pecs and arms, then back to my yearning face. His smirk returned an he proceeded to bounce his pecs before raising his left arm and flexing a titanic biceps in front of me. For me. I said nothing but I’m sure at least 3 oz of drool fell out of my mouth. “You’re right, Miller. Everything on me seems to be BIGGER than ever. It must be the affect my adorable husband has on me. He makes me want to grow and grow for him.” I caught my breath and was finally able to speak. “And nothing excites your husband than watching his big sexy bodybuilder man grow bigger.” This time is was Hank's turn to close his eyes and maintain control. “You are so sexy, Miller, I can’t even tell you how much I love you and your tight power packed body. Even though I dwarf you there is nothing sexier to me. And I know you love my size and power. In fact, I got a quick surprise for you babe. Guess what.” Though nothing could ever top the surprise when he proposed to me 16 months ago, any surprises Hank had given me in the past ultimately led to very exciting things, so I was eager to know what he was up to... “What?” “I did it.” “You did it? You did what?” I looked at him as he smirked at me. He stepped back and proceeded to perform a side chest pose. Then a most muscular, his face scrunching as he let out a alpha growl. He his all his poses with graceful fluidity. His flexed muscles exploded even bigger. His posing always took my breath away and I drooled some more as I took in his size. Size. A lot of size. Suddenly it dawned on me. “WAIT…you did…IT??” “Fuck yeah, babe. I finally crossed the barrier. Weighed in at 303 lbs this morning naked.” “UNNNNNNNNN” I was unable to contain my moan and I felt my rock hard dick leak. It was a goal that my husband, with obvious support from me, had had since we started dating two years ago. Way back when Hank was just a “small’ 257 lb bodybuilder. “Oh Hank. You are so damn sexy. And so BIG. You’ve got me raging for you, my big man. We might have to skip that dinner so I can ravage you right now!” I walked up to my hulking husband and wrapped my lithe arms around his titanic torso, pushing my cheeks against his pumped pectorals. From his six inch height advantage he leaned me back, leaned down and smothered my face with his mouth, his beard sexily scratching at my shaved cheeks. Even his tongue was pure power as he used its size to dominate my smaller warm mouth. My arms felt all around his pumped muscles, squeezing and groping the various rock hard masses on his body, being moistened by the sheen of sweat that coated him. I broke myself free of his hovering mouth, reached under his arms and pushed his triceps upward. With a smile he caught on and brought both arms up into a Mr. Olympia worthy double-biceps pose. I smashed my face into his right arm, licking the warm pulsating mass. I was soon sliding my mouth up and under his arm until I buried my face in his armpit and inhaled. My big man moaned deep and heavy from above. “Shit babe, if we don’t stop we are going to give the gym’s cameras a porno show.” “It would be worth it! You're just too hot, Hank.” I reached down and grabbed his bulge through his shorts. Like the rest of him it was over-sized, of course. Seriously, fuck this guy, right? Yes. And I had gotten to. Often. It’s ok to be jealous. I loved how I could make his enormous body shudder as I grabbed his thick, perfectly cylindrical cock. Like the rest of him it was big, almost nine inches long. And let me assure you, those inches were not those elongated "gay inches" either. He wasn’t actually 7 inches. His unit was legitimately a huge monster cock at just under nine pure inches. Hank grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back, holding me at arm’s length. I could see the fight in his eyes, he wanted this to continue as much as me, but alas, we had a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in town. “I promise you, Miller. You will get to explore every inch of this massive 300 pound body after dinner…that is, right after I hold you down and lick every square inch of yours.” My body shuddered as I pictured my future. I regained my composure and calmed my heartbeat. “You’re right. We can do it. We can control ourselves for the two hours, right? RIGHT?!” We both laughed. It would be a tough mission for both of us. “Plus the idea of seeing your massiveness in that suit of yours is too much to pass up.” “Attaboy. And you know, that suit was tailored for me when I was just 275 lbs…so it’s gonna be extra tight now.” I rolled my eyes back again and moaned. “And for being such a good sport, I’ll even wear my posing trunks under the suit for when you undress me after dinner.” "The blue shiny ones? Those are my favorite." "You got it, babe." Thank god the gym this Valentine’s Day was deserted. I’m sure two dudes throwing massive wood in the middle of the gym floor went against gym policy. “I can’t wait, Hank. I love you.” “I love you too, Miller. Happy Valentine’s Day, babe.”
  9. norsejock

    m/m Sunday Lift - Parts 1-6

    Just had an amazing workout and this short scene occurred to me. Wanted to get it down. 1. Early Sunday You walk onto the gym floor. 6'2'' 240. A Bear Daddy on the rise. A few months into focused attention on growing strength and size. You are enjoying the gains, the increased power, the reminder of your masculinity and dominance. You swagger in and survey the room. You will be smashing chest and shoulders today. Any worthy pups today? Yes, a shorty but thick. Great chest and calves. A cleanshaven redhead. He looks put together for 9am on a Sunday. You have a good feeling he may be growing boy in search of a master. You get to work. Super sets, drop sets. Decline bench, military press, cable machine, hammer press, db press, db flies. Your pump grows and grows. Sweat soaks your tshirt. You smell your own musk and the bear cock thickens. You can feel the eyes of the clean shaven muscle boy on you. When you look up, he is often turning away. You cock thickens further. He is working hard himself. You are impressed by his focus...on his workout and on you. You end the workout in front of the mirror with cross body hammer curls. Pure vanity. The Bear Cock is steel hard and leaking in your tight jockstrap as you gaze on how thick your shoulders, arms, and chest are. A true Man. A Muscle Bear growing into a God. You come out of your self worship and see that the boy has left. Ah well, another day. You head to your locker, strip off your clothes, enjoying how the sweaty shirt clings to your pumped body, how awkward it is too move with muscles too pumped and shaking. You walk to the shower, towel in hand, cock half hard swinging between your thick thighs. The shower threatens to bring you to full mast again as your soap up. Every movement reminding you how thick you are. Your hands roaming over a furry chest, thick and hard. Your arms and shoulders like steel. You savor this feeling as a reminder for when your motivation fades on difficult and long days. Any sacrifice is worth this feeling, this masculine testosterone-soaked feeling. You towel off and wrap it around your waist. Standing in front of the sink, you survey what you are building and you are pleased. You have a belly, yes, but it looks powerful when it is overshadowed by a thicker chest, capped by mounded shoulders, and thick thick arms. You shavr your neck and cheeks, enjoying how difficult it is with your still pumped arms. When finished, you take off your towel to wipe off the excess shave cream. Dropping the towel, you step back...wanting to see it all. The self lust rising again. Just then, you feel a presence behind you at the opposite sink. And its the boy. Unbidden, your cock thickens as you see his thick lil smooth ass in the mirror and all you want to do is FUCK. You chuckle. He looks up at the sound and your eyes meet through the mirrors. You raise your arms into a double bicep flex, your eyes leaving his to gaze on your size. Just a quick flex but a test. How will this tasty meat react? ... ... ... ... It all happens in milliseconds but your heart leaps. His gazed stayed. He wants it. He needs it. You pick up your towel without acknowledging him further and walk to your locker. Your test in pumping hard. Something is getting fucked today and deep. This pup or another. Your needs must be met. After getting dressed, you head to the elevator and as you wait you hear someone else exit the locker room. Is it the boy? You don't find out until you enter the elevator and turn. It is the boy and he is looking good. Red hair slicked up, clean shaven, blue-red flannel, jeans showin off his bubble butt... The door closes. You raise an arm to scratch the back of your neck. Your thick bicep strains the threads of your tshirt. "Great way to start a weekend, eh?" You say The boy looks down then towards you. "Sure is" He says quietly The bear cock thickens and you tell him your name. "I'm Matt" he responds "You were working harder than anyone in there today. What's driving that, man?" You ask as the door opens. "Just wanna get big" He says as you both exit the elevator. A pause "...like you" You smile and know it's on. "You free? I think I need to show you just how big I am" "I am" he responds The bear cock thickens *To Be Continued*?
  10. Hey y'all. Another story here. Couple of things to lay out before getting started: This story is complete. I'm just posting it in 4-5 portions to keep it digestible, since it's pretty long. This story is going to end up in a different place than it begins. No one in this story is particularly nice or gets what they deserve. If you like stories about nice people finally getting their break, this one is not for you. Hope someone out there enjoys reading this as much as I fuckin' enjoyed writing it. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Final Part --- Logan Mitchell sawed off a piece of sumptuous steak and placed it daintily into his mouth, savouring the taste. It had been so long since he had tasted meat. He was celebrating, he needed this. “No,” he thought, “I don’t need to justify eating meat anymore.” He had just come off a bad breakup that had caused him to put his entire life into perspective. He’d been working for the last five years at a small tech startup that had consumed his life. They “worked hard, and played hard,” which mostly meant that he worked sixteen-hour days, six days a week, and got to wear a pink tie on Fridays. His girlfriend had gotten fed up with his not spending any time with her and dumped him, and then the week after a large tech giant bought the startup and restructured the entire original dev team out of the company which had left Logan both without work and without the girl who the work was getting in the way of. It was then that Logan decided his life needed a change. Both work and his girl had controlled him for too long. He was 27, and it was time that he did the things he wanted to do with his life. Luckily for him, he was able to leverage his past experience at his startup into a cushier gig at a more established company, with both a strict 9-5, and what looked like a relaxed management team. His mind reeled at the thought of all he could do with the extra 48 hours per week in his life. Having finished his steak, he looked at his reflection on the empty metal plate. He took his napkin and wiped the juices off to see himself better. Auburn-haired, 6’4”, with a deep-set brow and decent jawline. He had narrow eyes, but upon close inspection they revealed startlingly green irises. He was a catch, he told himself. He didn’t need that… that… that bitch. He needed to make an effort to spit it out, even in his head. Under his breath he tried again, “That… b-bitch. Bitch.” No more vegetarian diet. No more Sunday social justice rallies. No more acceding to her decisions on every wardrobe purchase. No more baby-faced-clean-shaven “I don’t like the way your stubble scratches my skin.” He drained the rest of his beer. No more “alcohol is for wife-beaters and hobos.” He was going to do what he wanted, and what he wanted, was to fuck every bimbo from Calhoun’s to O’Kelly’s looking for a one-night stand. So, he decided he’d better work on himself first to make sure they found him irresistible. He grinned into his reflection. No more moping, no more feeling sorry for himself. He was going to hit the gym first thing tomorrow morning. --- It was 5 am, and the gym was mostly empty, by choice as he was sure he was going to embarrass himself. The gym had always intimidated Logan, as his long hours sitting behind a desk had left him with a rather doughy physique. He was 160 lbs and his past few years of vegetarianism had done little to put real muscle on his naturally tall and slim figure. “The very definition of skinny-fat,” he thought, using the new knowledge he had learned from a night of scrolling through every bodybuilding and hardgainer website he could lay his eyes on. Scanning around, he instead found that only the most hardcore lifters in the gym were around at this time, and his jaw gaped in awe at the ripped physiques around him lifting incalculable weights all the way overhead, then letting hundreds of pounds of iron crash thunderously to the ground. The way those muscles moved and worked… fascinated him. A pang of regret hit him. If only he had even walked into a gym any time since high school, he was sure he’d have fallen into it by now. He couldn’t take his eyes off of them. Eventually, his desire to work on himself managed to rip his eyes away. Using video links from a beginner’s routine, he started to teach himself how to do the exercises he had planned for the morning. He was only supposed to use the bar and easy weights, but he felt unsatisfied by the lack of challenge. He decided to add some weight, ahead of schedule. Feeling the resistance as his body worked… the sensation was euphoric. He loved every second of it. By the end of the workout he was sprawled out on the ground with his face to the sky, sweating buckets, the burning soreness hurting so good, his only regret that he needed to wait an entire day before he could do this again. As he showered off the cooling water on his burning up body washed away his fatigue and he began his workday with a focus he never knew he could muster. That day Logan ate like a madman, gorging himself on meat, potatoes and vegetables and sipping at protein shakes non-stop throughout the day. As soon as he went home, he went right back to researching workouts, diets and supplements that would help him reach his goal. “Thank god,” he thought, “for same-day shipping.” --- Two weeks later, after cleaning up from his fifth enormous meal of the day (“code compiling” time became “stuff his face” time twice a day now), he went to the bathroom to do his business. While washing his hands he noticed that his shirt didn’t quite sit on himself the same way. Looking up, he was startled to see his own face, bristling with two weeks of stubble growth. He ran his hands over his growing beard, feeling the hard bristles scratch against his skin. He looked good. “Fuckin’ good,” he corrected himself. He couldn’t swear at work, so he was still being careful, but he was cultivating a devil-may-care attitude for when he finally worked up the courage to head down to the bar and swim with the fishes. But seeing his face like this was a revelation, a new perspective. He’d been clean shaven all his adult years and didn’t realize how beard could shape his jaw just so, and make him seem, older, tougher, stronger. “I’m never going to shave again”, he resolved. He growled at himself, snarling to see how intimidating he could be, and the muscles of his neck tensed, drawing his attention down to his collar that seemed to rise a little bit more than before. He put his hand beneath his shirt and felt it – small hard mounds that had replaced the softness that had previously been there. Nowhere near the size and definition of any of the guys he stared at in his peripheral vision at 5 am every other day, but a far cry from the softness he had felt all over for years. Unable to resist, he pulled his shirt off over his head and looked at himself. He saw pecs. Pecs just on the verge of existing, where you can rub your chest and finally feel some flesh moving underneath. His suspicions confirmed, he donned his shirt again. He rubbed his stomach, still bulging a bit from all the food he had just ate, but quickly put that from his mind. He closed his eyes and summoned the testosterone within him. Imagining it coursing through his veins, addling his brain, giving him confidence. In his mind’s eye, his handsome face and shape clinched it. He was ready to head to the bar. “Whiskey, neat,” he demanded, for the fourth time straight. Just like the other three, he downed it in a single gulp. From his college years, he knew he needed a few to get the liquid courage going. Slamming the glass onto the bar, he looked up and scanned around the room. The busty babes seemed to glow in front of him. There! One was looking straight at him. Perfect. He flashed her an easy smile, then sauntered on over. Ten minutes later he was jamming his fuckrod down her throat in a bathroom stall. Waves of pleasure coursing through him, he tilted his head up, closed his eyes and sneered, his growing whiskers opening up to reveal his teeth in a cocky grin. He couldn’t believe how easy that had been. Before he could nod in her general direction and grunt “Yo, wanna fuck?” she had thrown herself onto his arm and they were off to the races. Granted, she wasn’t a bombshell, but what had he even been psyching himself up for? Thirty minutes later, he was done, but his ego demanded more. Three whiskeys later he was on his second lay of the night. Eventually, he blacked out, deliriously happy. The next morning, at 4 am, still buzzed and roaring with testosterone, he told the bitch to get out, made himself the breakfast of champions, and headed right to the gym, where he hit the weights harder than ever. --- Two weeks later, Logan found himself at a gun show upstate. He’d never fired a gun before, except in video games, years ago, before he’d been indoctrinated by his “we need more gun control, and violent video games cause serial killers” ex. Tripping on how much he had enjoyed rebelling against his former, meatless, beardless, tee-totalling self, he was raring to go on the rest of that guns and ‘merica shit. Glancing around the room he knew he had found his type. This is where the real men were – rugged, burly individualists who didn’t take shit from no one. He found himself a buddy in a redheaded giant of a man with a Van Dyke named Bronson, covered head-to-toe in 5.11 Tactical gear. After some good natured offensive jokes and back slaps, Logan found himself down several thousands of dollars and up a glock, an AR-15 rifle, and some tactical wear of his own. Now 180 lbs, he was finally starting to fit into the clothes he owned, which, tailored to more proportionate 6’4” guys, had always swamped him. Nevertheless, he had bigger plans and knew he’d be needing clothes made for beefier folk. After the show Bronson took him to the range and showed him how to shoot, and Logan fell in love with the loud crack of gunfire and the instantaneous destruction it caused on the other end. He loved the way the recoil kick of the shot would put tension on his frame and body. He resolved to come back once a week and fire to his heart’s content. “Yee-haw!” Bronson cried, “Next tahm, I’ll take ya huntin’! Shootin’s fun an’ all but there’s nothin’ like killin’ somethin’ an’ eatin’ it right there!” Logan salivated at the thought. They headed over to a nearby buffet and emptied it out between the two of them, before saying their goodbyes. Unfortunately, Bronson lived two hour’s drive in the opposite direction, so they wouldn’t be able to do much but meet at the range once in a while, but Logan had never before had a real buddy the way men do, who needed few words between them but could shoot and eat a horse together all the same. --- “An adult male weighs at least 200 pounds.” Logan had read Rippetoe’s words over and over again during he research, and no matter how the ladies grabbed at his muscles, after each personal record set in the gym, no matter how tight his clothes were feeling over his frame, in these long past three months he had never felt adequate because of this phrase. Stepping on the scale after his post-workout shower, his mind seized as he saw the number: 202.6. He ran over to the mirror, nearly bowling over an older man. His scowling, fully bearded face oozed aggression as he tensed every muscle, pumped as hell from the bodybuilding routine he had switched to after hitting his initial 225 lbs bench goal just last week. His eyes glanced at the frail man beside him, then back to himself. He roared and then exhaled powerfully in and out like a gorilla. No one would mistake him for a computer nerd now. In fact, at a company-wide meeting the day before, several of the new hires mistook him as the CEO of the company because of how much his simple presence dominated the room. Right after, he had a performance review with his manager where the portly, bespectacled man stammered and muttered his way through the interview before offering him the biggest raise of his life. No one questioned him about his changes over the past three months, as he was more focused and productive than ever. Sauntering into his workplace after yet another record-setting breakfast, he winked at the secretary who he’d laid just last week, filled his favourite mug with protein shake from the gallon jug of it he brought every day, then went to his desk, cracked his knuckles, and then had a thought. What he would do with a bit of extra time in his day… He had been enjoying his extra 48 hours a week immensely between the workouts, hunting, eating, binge drinking and fucking but he felt like he could be doing more. A lightbulb went off in his head – automation. For the rest of his day, he browsed Stack Exchange seeing which of his tasks were automatable and what it would take to do them, but it wasn’t easy. Still, he started to imagine what he could do with more “compiling time” in his day and looked forward to the challenge. The day flew by and he was on top of the world. Feeling high from his progress both on his body and at work, Logan stepped into the bar, downed a whiskey, and arrogantly scanned the room. He wasn’t looking for clearly flirty bimbo this time, he was looking for the most beautiful woman in the room. He found a trophy blonde, beelined for her, tilted her chin up towards him and demanded. “You. Me. Fuck. Now.” She giggled, seeming torn somehow, until Logan felt a tap on the shoulder and realized a jacked, stubbly frat boy building like a linebacker was looking up at him. The frat boy shoved himself between the babe and him and snarled. “She’s mine.” Logan sneered but before he could say anything a fist was flying at his face. He took a painful stab to the jaw and swung right back at his assailant’s abdomen. The frat boy tackled him to the ground and they wrestled it out, while a circle formed around them, yelling encouragement while the blonde fanned herself, living out a long-imagined fantasy of being fought over by two jacked-up studs. A bouncer came over but a bystander took a swing at him, and soon everyone in the circle had joined the fray. After thirty minutes of wrestling at each other, everyone else long since having dropped out, exhausted, Logan and the frat boy separated, and lay side by side laughing heartily. “Damn, fucker, you’re strong!” The frat boy picked himself up and offered a hand to Logan, “I’m Darryl. Yourself?” “I’m Logan. Fuck, man. Don’t I see you at Metroflex all the time?” This guy had been one of the ripped gymgoers Logan had been so intimated by three months ago. Sizing him up now, Darryl clearly still had twenty pounds on him, but on a 6’ frame that made him seem even more jacked. “Yeah dude. Join me for a smoke outside.” It was Logan’s first smoke, but he had grown to love the smell of tobacco at gun shows. He took deep drags that heightened his sensations and he found he could easily stomach a lung full of acrid smoke. He liked smoking. It made him feel tough. That night, the Darryl and his blonde, Candy, introduced Logan to the concept of a threesome, and Candy took both of their caveman dicks hungrily all night. Logan left that night satisfied by both a good fuck and by having found a new workout buddy. --- The next morning, Logan and Darryl met up for their workout and Darryl had a little locker room secret to show him: steroids. Darryl was juiced to the gills for the varsity team and needed to start selling to help pay his monthly costs. Logan didn’t need a second thought – instantly money changed hands and they jabbed each other in preparation for what Darryl promised was going to be a mindblowing workout. Starting to get pumped even before beginning, Logan licked his lips in anticipation. It was better than he could have ever imagined. Aggression pumping through his brain, seeing red. Logan roared with each rep, smashing each of his previous lifts by thirty pounds each. His pump was so rock hard and ready to burst that he could feel himself squeezing, growing out of his skin each time he flexed in the mirror, hair matted with sweat, wild eyes and a toothy grin peeking through his full beard looking like a wild beast. “The fuckin’ best part?” Darryl remarked cockily, “on gear you can lift every day. You’ve been around every other day, I know, but you haven’t seen me on your off days since you’re so fuckin’ consistent. It’s time for you to bless this gym daily now. Every. Fuckin’. Day.” Afterwards, Logan treated Darryl to an all-you-can-eat buffet for breakfast. By this point, Logan barely went to any other kind of eating establishment, and even Darryl could barely believe how much Logan could eat: thirty strips of bacon, sixteen eggs, eight pieces of toast slathered in butter, three bowls of plain Greek yogurt and eighteen sausages, washed down with six glasses of milk. They parted ways and Logan growled, still raring to go. At work, for the first time ever, Logan couldn’t keep focused. He decided it was time to pull the trigger on his automated scripts. As they ran, he did pushups, dips, pistol squats, anything and everything that came to mind. Once the first script was complete, he found that with the extra exercise he had settled down a bit and could sit down and complete tasks that required his full attention. Every couple of hours he would find himself filling back up with pent up energy. So once again he’d run one of his scripts, workout or eat in the meanwhile, then come back with enough of a clear mind to keep working. By the end of the day he was calm enough to do more complex tasks and so he had a new routine established.