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  1. 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 wore a thick chunky silver chain 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 white 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
  2. 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" ....
  3. 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.
  4. 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.”
  5. 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*?
  6. 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.