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Found 19 results

  1. Absman420

    story A DIFFERENT FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH

    Author's Note: here's another out of the archives -- this one from 2014 as well. A DIFFERENT FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH by Absman420 The texts began shortly before midnight, the buzz of his phone on the nightstand waking him, even in "sleep" mode. At first the old bodybuilder shrugged it off -- he had a fairly good idea who it was and what they wanted -- and they weren't ripe enough yet, anyway -- but when the dull banging began on the front door, he knew he could ignore it no longer. Dressed in only his flannel pajama bottoms -- cut off at the knee to expose his gigantic calves (he hadn't worn pants in over twenty-five years, he bragged) -- he walked down the carpeted stairs to the front door, his stark white hair almost glowing in the darkness. He was a large man. Even in the streams of moonlight coming through the curtains, it was easy to make out his imposing shape. He'd been a weight-lifter most of his life and carried a certain kind of thickness only sported by men who'd spent decades pounding iron -- and carried HIMSELF with the confidence of a man who'd had a superior body for decades. He'd be damned if he'd ruin that by getting old. When he suddenly turned on the outside light, the pounding abruptly stopped. "Who's there?" he growled at the door, even though he knew perfectly well who it was. "Daddy?" A weak, desperate sound. "Please. I can't stand it anymore. Please… they HURT!" The old bodybuilder opened the door, revealing the figure of a lean, young man bathed in the soft glow of the porch light. The boy was maybe 5'8"/ 5'9" about 160lbs, lean in a way that was characteristic of swimmers or long-distance runners, athletic but skinny. Somewhere in his early twenties, he probably shaved once a week, his tight, flawless skin making him look even younger. A tousle of ordinary brown hair that looked slept-on wrong topped a face that was less handsome than pretty. Sure, maybe someday it would mature into handsome, but right now it was the fresh-face of youth. Only his eyes had any fire, bright green and lively. He was dressed in sweat pants, flip flops and a tank top that exposed his lean arms -- he had an air of desperation about him. "Thank God," he said when the old bodybuilder opened the door. "I'm so sorry. I know you said to wait, but I can't stand it anymore! I can't stand it!" He collapsed on the old bodybuilder, hugging the old man's muscular torso, laying his head on the bodybuilder's massive pec. Sobbing, desperate. "I'm so sorry, Daddy! I tried to wait… but they HURT!" The old bodybuilder held the boy and stroked his head while he wept. Finally, he shut the front door and said, "It's okay, boy. The first time can be scary. C'mon inside and let's see what's going on." The boy allowed himself to be led to the living room. He babbled. "I mean, I've been horny as fuck, but I can't cum. I CAN'T CUM! It's driving me fucking crazy. I stroke and stroke… almost… almost… but it doesn't fucking happen. THEY HURT SO FUCKING MUCH!" "Lemme see," the old bodybuilder said, sitting on the hassock before the boy. "When was the last time you saw them?" the boy asked, hands on the waist of his sweatpants. "Three... four days ago? You complimented me on them…" The old bodybuilder smiled. "You have beautiful balls," he said. "Golden eggs!" "Well, they're a little bigger than that now," the boy said, lowering the sweats. Instead of his normal boxer shorts, the boy wore a runner's jock, the thin waist strap low on the pubis, barely atop the root of his cock. The pouch itself was stretched nearly to the point of giving way, stuffed full of the boy's swollen, avocado-sized balls. Between the pull of his nads and the squeeze of the pouch, the boy's cock was nearly hard, ready to bust its way out of the cotton fabric any second. "LOOK at them!" The old bodybuilder did look, and he couldn't help but lick his lips -- they were huge. "What's happening to me?" the boy asked. The old bodybuilder ignored him. "Beautiful," he mumbled, gently cupping the boy's sac in his hand, weighing it almost -- the boy gasped. "You sure you wanna cum? I think you could grow these a little more…" The boy may not've liked the idea, but his cock did -- it throbbed a bit in its cotton prison. "Aw, fuck no!" the boy moaned. "You don't understand. They ACHE… Please..." When the old bodybuilder rubbed the over-sized sac with his hand, the boy moaned loudly -- his cock got even harder, straining down the front of the pouch, the head clearly visible through the stretched fibers of the material. Holding the boy's balls in his hand, the old bodybuilder licked the material covering the boy's cock, soaking it in his spit. "Oh…. Daddy," the boy whimpered. "Please…" Guiding him by the hips, the old bodybuilder sat the boy on the hassock, sliding himself to his knees on the floor between the boy's legs. Slipping a couple of thick fingers beneath the band of the boy's jockstrap, the old bodybuilder released the boy's cock, but left his nads trapped in the pouch -- the elastic of the waistband slid up under the base of the boy's erection, tickling him. The boy's cock was significantly bigger than the last time the old bodybuilder had seen it, as well -- the boy probably hadn't realized it because his balls were so freakishly out of proportion. Their firmness and swollen fresh pinkness made them irresistible. The boy's cock stood nearly nine inches straight up, a tiny line of pre-cum stringing down to the root -- the old bodybuilder licked that up pretty quickly. Ambrosia. When he took the boy's cock in his mouth, just the flared head, he tasted another release of pre -- delicious, teasing. He played with the head for another few moments, hoping for more, then finally took the whole of the boy's cock in his mouth, burying his nose in the boy's neatly trimmed pubes. The boy grabbed either side of the hassock and leaned back, his abs catching the light from above them, highlighting his skinny-boy eight pack. His breath was already hitching, and the old bodybuilder wondered if the boy would even last ten minutes -- probably not. He'd clearly never gotten head before, not from the way he was reacting. The possibility of a virgin turned the old bodybuilder on even more and he set to work in earnest, bobbing his head up and down the boy's shaft squeaky smooth, making sure his thick white mustache tickled the boy, too -- the boy was a bubbling brook of pre-cum. The old bodybuilder would be sucking the flavor out of his white whiskers for days. Deftly, he pulled the jockstrap down and released the boy's smooth, swollen balls, cupping them in one hand until he'd pulled the strap completely off, then holding them reverently in both, stroking them and and gently pulling them down in counter-rhythm to his mouth. They were massive -- did he say avocados? Maybe he meant mangos… The boy was trying to find a balancing place between pain and pleasure -- he didn't know what to do with his hands, so he kept holding the hassock, although he'd felt an urge to pinch his own nipple. He didn't know why. The old bodybuilder rolled the boy's gigantic balls back and forth, then began running one hand up and down the back of them while the other cupped their base. He settled the moving hand at the top of the boy's sac, ran fingers up either side of the boy's taint, then began playing with the boy's tight hole, all the while sucking the boy's rock hard cock. The boy was panting now, thrusting his hips into the old bodybuilder's face. On the edge again, ready, so, so ready to blow his load. The old bodybuilder knew this and slipped his thick middle finger into the boy's hole, quickly finding the boy's prostate and pressing that button for all its worth. The boy released the sides of the hassock, grabbing the old bodybuilder's head and began to orgasm, pushing his cock deep into the old bodybuilder's throat. He didn't just moan -- he screamed. The old bodybuilder had tasted plenty of the boy's pre, but was surprised by the volume -- even HE didn't expect the boy to pack such a punch. Each of the boy's squirts nearly filled his mouth -- he had to time his swallows to match the boy's ejaculations. The boy came. And came. His orgasm lasted nearly two minutes, the most incredible, mind-blowing thing he'd ever felt. And the old bodybuilder swallowed it all, every drop, until his own belly was distended from the creamy ambrosia. But whether the old bodybuilder came or not, the boy didn't know -- he was so exhausted, he could barely focus. He passed out as his boy-cock still dribbled some remaining drops -- but don't worry, the old bodybuilder got those, too. When the boy finally awoke, the first thing he realized was that the sun was up -- it was morning. It must be hours later. He was lying in an unfamiliar bed. The next thing he realized was that his balls didn't ache anymore. Not at all. As a matter of fact, they felt totally normal. When he touched them, he found them more sensitive than they'd been -- but at least they were back to normal size. His cock, on the other hand, was definitely bigger than it had been. How about that -- the old bodybuilder had told him the truth… His rumination -- and masturbation -- was interrupted by the bedroom door opening. The boy pulled his hands away from his genitals, like he'd been caught doing something bad. "Good morning!" the bodybuilder in the doorway said, but it wasn't the man the boy remembered. The boy was sure the bodybuilder's hair had been stark white, with a matching white mustache -- but this man had hair that could only be described as "salt & pepper", even his mustache was mostly black. Something was different about his skin, too -- it was… tighter. It was the same guy, obviously the same guy, but he looked different. Younger. The boy didn't know why he'd described the guy as an old bodybuilder, when clearly, in the light of day, he was middle-aged -- maybe 45 on the out side. His eyes sparkled with mischief. "How do you feel?" he asked, his voice not quite as rough. "Really great, thank you." The boy smiled, softly rubbing his balls. "You weren't kidding about how powerful that would be. Wow." "Yeah?" the big man said, flexing his pecs. "You wanna go again?" The boy laughed, embarrassed. "I don't if I can go again right now…" he said, although his cock kind of liked the idea. The middle-aged bodybuilder chuckled. "No, I mean the peptides. Do you wanna do the injection again?" The boy realized what he meant, and self-consciously cupped his ball sac. "Will it… Will it feel like it did last night?" "Better if you let it… brew longer." The boy smiled -- he didn't even hesitate. "Let's do it." And that's how he found himself in the bodybuilder's kitchen, bent over the center island, as the middle-aged bodybuilder pulled a small vial from his refrigerator and filled the tiniest of insulin syringes. The boy knew from experience it wouldn't hurt, so when he felt the bodybuilder pinch the back of his balls, he got an erection right as the tip of the needle entered his sac. In a second, it was over. The boy slid his sweatpants on, stuffing the well-stretched jockstrap in his pocket. He could already feel the peptide working -- churning in his nuts. Damn, it felt good. The middle-aged bodybuilder smiled, his (mostly) black mustache contrasting his white teeth. "Let's see if you can go longer than three days this time," he said playfully, throwing one big arm around the boy's shoulders. They laughed and kissed awkwardly at the door, like friends, then the boy went his merry way. "I don't want to see you for at least a week," the bodybuilder said. "Seriously. You can do it." The boy blew him a silly kiss from his car. That evening, just after the bodybuilder had finished his workout and was thinking about something to eat, there came a dull pounding on his front door. He opened it to reveal a beautiful ginger boy, no more than eighteen, built like a wrestler or gymnast, big arms and no waist. He wore underarmor compression shorts which were stretched to the limit by his gigantic balls. It took both his hands to support their weight -- crazy unreal. "Ok, Coach" the ginger boy said, panting. "It's been two weeks. A record, you said. Now you gotta get me off. Please, they hurt so much -- they ACHE." The bodybuilder smiled, inadvertently licking his dark mustache. "You picked a good time," he said, drawing the boy inside, "I just finished working out and I'm STARVING…" He shut the door behind them. END
  2. Absman420

    Story -- BOY IN A BAG

    (AUTHOR’S NOTE: Friends, I just can’t write a short story -- I mean, I can’t write a story that’s short. I swear, I’ve tried -- I even tried here -- but for some reason, I get started and I suddenly realize I’m writing ANOTHER long-ass rambling. Forgive me. And if your erotic attention span isn’t long enough to get to my denouement, well… what can I say? I warned you.) BOY IN A BAG By absman420 He’d reached a time in his life when compliments ended with “for your age” -- “You’re in great shape… for your age” or “I hope I’m still training that hard when I’m your age” and the like (“the like” being “sure, you’re bald, but at least your head has a nice shape”) -- that little barb hidden inside the kindness, wrecking the whole thing. Didn’t people realize how patronizing that was? How condescending? Worse, he’d gone from desirable muscle-daddy to invisible man almost overnight. The gym, which had always been a flirty, playful place, was now a place where men practiced the art of aversion -- no eye-contact, no acknowledgement, no existence. The arc of life for the gay top, he consoled himself as he lay on the gym mat, stretching -- prostates, erectile dysfunction, man-boobs, nope… you can’t fight time. Look at those beautiful boys! There was a seeming pack of them at the gym, dim-witted and gorgeous, ponderously over-built but for their baby-faces, endlessly posing and giggling with each other -- oh, how he wished the kind of designer drugs that existed now had existed when HE’D been their age! Hell, in his day, they used to inject veterinary-grade horse testosterone! Now it was all pro-hormone this and peptide that -- they had these perfect bodies and these perfect complexions and no fucking clue how lucky they were. There they were now in their tights and their meggings showing off their beautiful asses and their full, unatrophied balls -- they lifted their shirts so often to check their abs it’s like they had to keep reminding themselves they had them. Wilson sighed -- he was envious and he knew it. It never used to bother him, but lately Wilson had discovered himself crossing some imaginary line to old man. Sexually, he didn’t seem to have “it” anymore -- no one seemed attracted to him. His body was still fairly good -- for his age -- certainly nothing like it was back when he competed, but if no other truth became clearer to Wilson as he got older it was that gravity always won. Hell, even after you die, gravity keeps pulling you back down. Suddenly, dropping down next to him on the mat -- see? gravity -- another beauty of a guy -- mid-thirties, maybe, spent too much time in the sun, but an amazing body. As he started to stretch, he looked at Wilson and smiled. “Hey, hot daddy,” he said. “Hey, hot muscleboy,” Wilson said, the words out of his mouth before he realized what he’d said -- almost by habit. The guy stopped what he was doing and met Wilson’s gaze. He smirked. “Woof,” he said. Wilson barked a laugh. “You’re too kind,” he said. “But someone like you should be flirting with those ridiculously hot boys over there, not wasting your charm on old guys like me.” “I like old guys like you,” he said as he glanced over at the pretty boys. “They’re a bunch of doofuses. Pretty… but overpriced.” He chuckled. “I don’t have to pay… yet.” Wilson sighed as he stretched his hamstring. “I don’t have to pay, either.” The guy laughed. “No,” he said. “Not when you got hunky guys like me throwing themselves at you.” “Oh? Are you throwing yourself at me?” “I think so,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Jonas. Wanna fuck?” ********************************************************* Wilson hadn’t fucked anyone at the gym in years -- and here he was slamming the fuck out of this hot muscle-guy in the posing room. Thank God everything was cooperating -- at his age, his cock wasn’t always agreeable to spontaneous sex. But there was something about this guy Jonas -- fucking beautiful body -- fucking AMAZING ass -- that made his cock proceed with confidence. Of course they were rushed -- who knew when one of the bodybuilders (or that roving gang of pretty boys) would decide they wanted the posing room for themselves? And if they DID come in, would they be repulsed or intrigued? Would they run or join? Fight or flight? They fucked facing the mirror, Jonas bent over the small bench that people normally dropped their clothes or gym bags on. God, he was beautiful! Muscular without being thick-waisted -- and his ass! A dream! A delicacy! Bubbled and round, but firm and no-nonsense -- when he flexed it, it was rock hard, but when he was relaxed, it was a cushion that Wilson loved pushin’. They both still wore their gym clothes -- and for that, Wilson could only be grateful, no need to see his saggy ass body next to this prime beast. Why couldn’t HE still be in his prime? Looking at his bald head and white beard in the mirror, he couldn’t help think he was off-season santa. No… don’t get distracted, you old fuck. Old maybe, but Wilson’s cock was still it’s big familiar self. As a youth, he learned he was a grower. He didn’t realize how big his cock WAS until he’d started having gay encounters. He thought all those guys in the locker room with big, soft cocks must get ENORMOUS when hard. Little did he know. And who didn’t love a true top? And who didn’t love a muscular top, at that? Wilson’s most exciting discovery when he’d first come to California was that a lot of the hypermuscular bodybuilders were bottoms, all of them looking for a big, strong Daddy to give them what they needed, discipline and dick. Wilson was good at both. But if there was one thing this old man couldn’t do, it was edge. He was nearly ready to cum before he’d even gotten a steady rhythm going. Or maybe it was just that this guy Jonas had some talent. “Oh fuck,” Wilson said, “I’m gonna cum! I can’t stop myself!” “Lemme have it, daddy!” Jonas grunted. “Put it deep in my hungry hole!” “Oh, shit!” sighed Wilson, and blew it. Old fucking man, he thought. When you were young, you’d have made that last longer than two minutes. Embarrassing. But Jonas didn’t seem to mind, as he set about the business of jerking off while Wilson’s dick was still inside him. Wilson reached around and pinched the guy’s nipples, tiny little small things on the swell of enormous pecs. “Oh, yes,” Jonas moaned, standing up a little straighter. When he shot his load, his cum hit the mirror, nearly three feet away. Pulling out and wiping off on his gym towel, Wilson did his best to throw off his embarrassment -- still, he tucked himself back in his jockstrap and shorts pretty fast. Nervous, he didn’t want to seem too desperate, or too grateful. “That was fucking hot,” Jonas said, wiping his cum off the mirror with his t-shirt. “I haven’t done anything like this in years,” Wilson said. “I can’t even remember the last time I was naughty at the gym. I think it was two owners ago, in the old steam room….” “You should do it more often,” Jonas said, putting the t-shirt in his gym bag. “You got a great dick.” Wilson chuckled. “Maybe,” he said, “but I can’t rely on him always performing on cue anymore. And, as you can see, it doesn’t always last that long.” “Don’t make excuses,” Jonas said, kissing him quickly as he walked past. “It was great. Not that I couldn’t get you something that would make it a little greater.” “Oh, really? I hate to step on your sales pitch, but I’ve tried just about every form and flavor of ED therapy there is, every pill and troche and injection and testicular device. Every rub and scrub and lotion from the tribal Amazon basin. At some point, a man has to accept a certain sexual inevitably.” Jonas laughed. “So I guess I should give you my card. I’m an ambassador for a local pharmacy that specializes in anti-aging.” Wilson smiled. “Is this a sales technique of yours?” “Why? Is it working?” Wilson lightly put his hand on Jonas’ round, firm ass. “Let’s say I’m intrigued,” Wilson purred. “And interested in more.” Jonas flicked his eyebrows. “Definitely,” he said. And they kissed. ********************************************************* “So, the company I work for has perfected a peptide growth-hormone variant that has shown spectacular success in testicular rejuvenation, visceral fat loss and muscle retention. They can’t call it the fountain of youth in a bottle, but it basically is. It’s still in limited release, but I have access to it -- if you want to try it.” “Really?” asked Wilson, genuinely intrigued, but nervous -- he never pictured an open conversation like this in a locker room. In his day, steroids had codewords and were discussed hush-hush in private. Nowadays almost nothing was illegal -- it was all prescribed! “I promise it’s nothing but good,” he said, standing there in just his towel, hung low over his narrow hips. “I mean, I’VE done it.” “You? On anti-aging therapy?” Wilson laughed, trying not to look like he was covering his saggy barrel belly. “You can’t be more than 30, 35 at most.” Jonas’ smile widened. “Bless you,” he said. “I’m fifty-three.” Wilson was dumbfounded. His jaw hung slightly open as he tried to take in the truth of Jonas’ statement. It was impossible -- it was some kind of weird joke. A guy he was calling “boy” a few minutes ago was only six years younger than him? Impossible! “Impossible…” “Is this the part where I show you my driver’s license?” Jonas laughed -- his good humor was unflappable. “Trust me, I was born in the sixties… and I’ve got the Bobby Sherman albums to prove it!” “But…” Wilson mumbled, making an empty gesture toward Jonas’ abs, his impossible mid-section. His youthful skin. “I can even get it for you at my rate -- c’mon, you know you wanna do it. Don’t be an old man… anymore.” They made eye contact -- Jonas smiled slyly. “Do it.” And Wilson was surprised by how quickly he said, “Okay.” ********************************************************* That was how Wilson found himself at Jonas’ beach house in Malibu that evening, watching the sun set over the ocean as Jonas explained the procedure. Wilson had done SOME research during the afternoon -- he’d read the pharmacy’s website, but found precious little about the actual compound he’d be taking. Just that it had been in trial tests and results had been promising. “It’s a series,” Jonas said, opening a small white cardboard box adorned with the pharmacy’s logo and removing an IV bag. “Four treatments -- one a week, sometimes ten days, depending on how quickly your body responds to the formula. Takes about a half-hour to do the IV. Side effect: it can make you a little nauseous, so you might want to crash here tonight. You might even just want to lay out here under the stars.” “Your house is beautiful,” Wilson said, settling into a lounge chair on the patio. “Perhaps I should’ve become a pharmacy rep when I retired.” Jonas laughed. “I’m also a pimp on the side,” he said, setting up the IV-stand next to Wilson’s chair. “Believe me, the best part of rejuvenation is the sex -- you forget how much you missed it.” Wilson was eye-level with Jonas’ thick package, proudly displayed in his too-small speedo -- Wilson licked his lips. “I can’t wait,” he said. “Let me get you set up then.” Jonas tied a rubber tube around Wilson’s bicep and said, “Give me a vein.” Wilson squeezed his fist and his forearms popped. Jonas tore the needle out of it’s sterile wrapper and inserted it so neatly and painlessly into Wilson’s vein that Wilson realized the guy had a ton of experience. He attached the IV-line and the began the transfusion. “Beautiful,” he said, removing the rubber tube tourniquet and allowing Wilson’s blood to flow. “It’ll take about a half hour.” Wilson was still looking at Jonas’ junk. “No worries. I love the view.” ********************************************************* “A little nauseous” didn’t begin to describe it. Even the slightest movement caused his belly to flip, even less to flop. His body burned, a fire raging through him -- he’d go between rounds of horrible sweating to shakes of coldness as his wet clothes clung to him. It was worse than the worst flu he’d ever had. At one point, he remembered himself on the toilet, shit exploding out of him -- everything nasty coming out. The piss, the shit, the vomit -- who knew he had so much crap inside him. He was spewing every bit of it out. There were times he was aware of Jonas hovering over him, caring for him. “You’re doing great, Willy,” he thought he heard Jonas say. Why would he call him that? Wilson was delirious. Jonas put a cold-compress on his forehead -- he thought. Did he remember that? Imagine it? Hours later, as the fever broke, Wilson passed out. ********************************************************* His morning wood woke him, insistent and throbbing -- how many years had it been since he’d had THAT problem? Absently, he grabbed his cock with his hand, mildly impressed by it, as he surfaced back to reality. He was still lying on the lounge chair on Jonas’ patio, though someone had thrown a comforter over him sometime during the night. The sunrise was behind the house, casting long, cool shadows across the beach. He vaguely remembered moments of puking and sweating and diarrhea, but there seemed no evidence of that now -- his shorts and t-shirt were clean and dry. The only differences were this blanket… ...and this hard-on. Wilson lay quietly for a moment, listening to the ocean lap on the shore as he casually stroked his cock -- which seemed a bit more of a handful than usual, but that was probably because he hadn’t been this hard in a while. This was a teenager’s erection. And it felt really good. “Looks like someone’s up,” Jonas called, coming through the patio door carrying a coffee tray -- he was dressed in only an open bathrobe and a pair of tighty-whities, tight because of how he filled them. “How do you feel?” Wilson laughed. “I feel good,” he said, smiling. “Morning wood kind of good!” “That’s what I like to hear!” Jonas said, setting the coffee service down on the table. “It’s funny,” Wilson said, still absently playing with his hard-on beneath the comforter. “I swear I was sick overnight, like it was really bad, but now I feel clean and… hell, even my breath is fresh!” Jonas poured him a cup of coffee. “The first dose tends to clean out the internal systems…. Sugar? Milk?” “Black,” Wilson said, gladly taking the cup. Jonas continued talking as he made a coffee for himself. “As I was saying, first dose hits the internal system: the gut, the liver, kidneys, digestive system, endocrine system, sex organs. This week, as your internal systems reset, you’ll continue to feel better and better, healthier, I guess you could say. By the end of the week, you won’t even get acid reflux anymore. And wait’ll you see what it does to your sex drive.” “I’m already seeing that,” Wilson said. “I haven’t had morning wood in decades.” Jonas smiled that crooked, sly smile. “Don’t lose that,” he said. “I might want it after coffee.” “That’s the only cream I’ll take.” ********************************************************* Jonas had been right -- as the week progressed, Wilson did continue to feel better. His energy was better. His recuperation time was faster. Hell, even his poops were good -- and for an old man, like an old dog, quality of poops was everything. It all contributed to his good mood -- he felt good inside, healthy, and he couldn’t help but smile. He may still be an old, bald, white-bearded guy on the outside, but inside he felt good as new. People noticed. “Someone’s in a good mood!” they’d say to him at the gym, but with his workouts improving the way they were, it wasn’t a surprise. He hadn’t gotten pumps this good in a long while. His dizzy smile made sense -- and it felt good, too. Screw them if they wanted to wallow in their misery -- they weren’t gonna drag old Wilson down anymore. And his dick kept making itself known. Hell, he hadn’t had so many spontaneous erections since he’d been a teenager. Even at rest, it seemed half-hard -- and he’d swear it was bigger. He’d swear it. And his balls seemed fuller, too - -of course, they were working for the first time in years. Hell, Wilson figured he’d killed his balls off decades ago, putting himself through the kind of cycles he had when he’d been a competitor. But now, it seemed everything was back online. He didn’t try to show it off, but he felt like his cock was obvious in everything he wore -- and he liked it. He fucking liked EVERYTHING! ********************************************************* Here they were, the next Saturday evening, back on Jonas’ patio in Malibu. “So you like it so far?” Jonas asked. “Ready for the second dose?” “I love it!” Wilson cried happily. “Bring it on!” So Jonas set-up the second of the four IV-pouches, finding Wilson’s vein a little more easily than before. Wilson was delighted by the whole thing. “So the first dose reset your internal organs and systems, at the least -- in some cases, probably started the regeneration of some things -- but this next dose will be a little more obvious externally.” “In what way?” Wilson asked, watching the flow of liquid head down the tube. “Just like with growth hormone, the decrease of visceral fat -- you know, fat on internal organs. You’re gonna lean out like you were in a competition, but you don’t have to worry about diet. Lean and hard!” Wilson laughed. “I’m already hard!” Jonas laughed, too. “So I see. You just wait.” ********************************************************* With the second bag empty, Wilson was pleased that he didn’t feel as nauseous this time. But he did feel warm. Feverish, almost. “How you feelin’?” Jonas asked, disconnecting the IV. Wilson seemed to search for the right word. “Hot,” he mumbled. “Like a fever…” Jonas felt his forehead. “Yup. C’mon,” Jonas said, indicating Wilson to follow him, “let’s get on the stationary bike.” Wilson reluctantly climbed on the bike -- he was dizzy from fever -- he slid his feet into the straps. “I don’t think…” Jonas smiled. “You don’t need to think, Willy. I got you covered. Right now, you just need to pedal. Can you pedal for me?” “Yeah…” Jonas pressed a button on the bike’s console and the pedals started moving, forcing Wilson’s legs to move with them. “You got a terrible fever,” Jonas said into Wilson’s ear. “You gotta burn it out.” “Okay…” And so he pedaled. And pedaled. And Lord how he sweat. Delirious, he lost track of time and place. Jonas had thrown a towel over his head and that wiped out Wilson’s awareness. He pedaled and sweat, pumped and dripped. Occasionally, his exhaustion would slow him, his delirium would disorient him, but then he’d hear Jonas from somewhere saying, “Keep pedaling, Willy,” and he’d obey. He couldn’t reason enough to resist. Finally, hours later when the fever broke, he passed out -- he felt himself collapse on the bike’s console. But he was also aware of someone dragging him somewhere and laying him down. That same someone squeezed his rock hard cock and kissed his forehead. Wilson heard, “Go to sleep, Willy.” And he did. ******************************************************** He woke the same way as he had the week before: morning wood — throbbing, insistent morning wood. The only difference was this time there was a mouth on it, someone swallowing his big erection to the root. Wilson opened his eyes to see Jonas’ head bobbing up and down on his swollen cock. Wilson intended to lean his head back and shut his eyes, but by then he’d seen his own abs. His own abs! He was lean -- like, competition lean -- no, better than he’d been in competition! Wilson hadn’t competed in over thirty years -- some would argue that he’d gone to seed in that time -- but to look at his body in the morning sun, his abs flexing with each deep breath he took, following the tempo of Jonas’ rhythm, you’d think he was a sun-tan away from the Stage. “Oh my god, look at me!” he said, feeling his own torso with his hands, tweaking his own nipples (and even his nipples were pert and sensitive). He flexed a double-bi. “Look at me!” And with that, he shot his load, filling Jonas’ mouth and throat with a spectacular amount of cum. ********************************************************* It was really just the start of the process. For the remainder of the week, Wilson lost even more body-fat -- by the following Friday, his waist had tightened to an unimaginable thirty inches! Wilson was pretty sure the last time his waist was thirty inches was in Middle School, nearly fifty years ago. Even as a bodybuilder in his prime, Wilson had a roid gut, his abs pushed out by his swollen liver and internal organs. But over the course of the week, his roid gut became a lean, but densely muscled core. It accentuated his upper-body’s V-shape as well as the thick mass of his thighs. Part of him wanted to wear the same kind of tights he saw on those hot muscle boys -- as it was, Wilson’s legs were bigger than any two of them put together -- but he found himself a victim of the same insecurities he’d always had. “Get the fuck over yourself,” he laughed. “You could seduce every one of those boys if you’d change your stupid attitude.” He was actually starting to believe that. Maybe it was just his relentless good mood. But how could you not be in a good mood when your hair was growing back in? Oh yeah, that was the other thing. Sure, he was working out for hours a day, recuperating more and more quickly, losing body-fat while gaining muscle, but he was also regrowing his hair! It’s true! His bald head had sprouted a new growth, a new harvest of hair. He thought he’d made peace with being bald, but the renewed growth of hair on his head gave him a sense of elation even greater than the continued growth of his penis, or the fullness of his balls. Looking at himself in the mirror -- and how he was loving what he saw -- even his sensational abs couldn’t keep his focus. Every line in his incredible torso led the eye to his substantial package. But not Wilson’s — his eyes were drawn to the hair growing back on his head. His beard, which last week was completely white, was now two-thirds white, the odd reddish-brown hue of his youthful beard fighting its way in. For a man nearing sixty, Wilson looked middle-aged. Wrapped in a towel, as he made his way to the shower, the gang of muscle boys came in the locker room. Five of them, they were so beautiful -- youthful faces with these hyper-masculine bodies, over-developed muscle with the sizeable genitals they so proudly flaunted. Groomed to perfection, plucked and preened and peacock proud, they strutted in like they owned the place, all of them smiling and giggling and showing off. To Wilson, they were silly boys. Built, silly boys. Even feeling as good as he did, even looking as good as he was, Wilson felt intimidated by them. Like they were going to judge him and laugh at him. And dismiss him. But then, the unexpected happened. One of the boys made eye-contact with him, a beautiful Italian boy with black hair and sparkling blue eyes - lashes like Bambi. He made eye-contact with Wilson then quickly looked him up-and-down, then eye-contact again. He lifted his eyebrows and seductively smirked. Oh my god, Wilson laughed to himself. I just got cruised by one of them! In the shower, he jerked off thinking about it. ********************************************************* The third dose had really been the kicker, as far as Wilson was concerned. Even the burning nausea after the IV hadn’t been as bad, certainly not in comparison with the plusses. The morning after the third treatment, Wilson woke with a full head of hair, the same shade of auburn he’d had as a young man (not the glaring Opie-like red of his childhood)! Even his beard was now mostly reddish-brown -- overnight, he’d gone from a white beard with brown highlights to a brown beard with white highlights. Weirder still was that he lost all his body hair -- all the punishing old man hair, the ear hair, the back hair, the shoulder hair -- his leg hair and arm hair, too. Hell, even his ass was smooth -- baby smooth! He had the tiniest bit of pubic hair -- nothing on the genitals, themselves -- and his armpits had the same bare dusting. He considered shaving just to be done with it. His skin was smooth and flawless. As a redhead, his skin had been freckled and scarred from the sun -- the acne he had as a teen still left its mark -- but now, it was if his skin had regenerated (maybe it had!), as if it had started fresh. No wrinkles, no pock marks, no bags, no moles -- not even calluses on his hands! Studying himself in the mirror, he couldn’t attach an age to his face. Maybe forty -- maybe thirty-five and prematurely graying? Certainly not sixty -- and that was all that mattered. He was spending an insane amount of time at the gym, but his workouts felt so good he didn’t want to stop. His muscles kept growing, his waist kept tightening -- the pumps he got were nearly as good as sex -- and he felt so fucking amazing. He couldn’t help but flex in the mirror after a set, raising his shirt if he had to. He loved when he caught people looking, especially those boys… He was doing crunches at the end of his workout when he happened to spot Jonas on the far side of the gym, joking around with some old guy -- Wilson didn’t recognize the guy, but he was surprised to find himself the tiniest bit jealous. Did he have a thing for Jonas? “Forget about that guy,” a voice next to Wilson said, surprising him. Wilson glanced over quickly to see that muscular Italian Boy with the Bambi lashes squatting down next to him on the mat. He wore neon green tights and a white sleeveless t-shirt, his overly muscular arms exposed and pumped. When they made eye-contact, the boy smiled -- perfect, white teeth beneath soft, full lips. Wilson, still on his back, returned the smile and asked, “What are you talking about?” The boy nodded toward Jonas. “That guy, Jonas,” he said. “Forget it. He only goes for the old guys.” Wilson barked a laugh. “What?” “Seriously,” the boy said, “the old guys -- the really old guys -- the grandpas. You don’t stand a chance.” From the floor, Wilson offered the boy his hand. “Wilson,” he said. The boy shook it with both his. “Hi Wilson. I’ve seen you around. You’re super-hot…” Wilson waited for the inevitable “...for your age” but it never came. The boy just squatted there holding Wilson’s hand and grinning. Wilson prompted him. “And you are…?” The boy blushed. “Oh… duh. I’m Roddy.” “Roddy?” “HOT Roddy,” the boy said, laughing. The light sparkled in his blue eyes. “That’s my club name. I’m a go-go dancer!” “Of course you are,” Wilson chuckled — the kid was so sincere. Then, as Wilson started his next set of crunches, he glanced toward Jonas, who was still working the old man. The boy, Roddy -- Hot Roddy -- suddenly stepped over Wilson’s torso, straddling him. “What are you doing?” Wilson asked. The boy smiled, squatting slightly. “Keeping your attention,” he said, and began swaying his hips to some unheard beat. Go-go dancing. God, he was beautiful. In a move he hadn’t used since high school wrestling, Wilson sat up, taking the boy’s feet out from under him, put him on his ass and then rolled him back onto his shoulders, Wilson between the boys legs, his cock pressing right into the boy’s crack. Looking him straight in the eye, Wilson said, “Now you’ve got my attention.” The boy was breathless, flustered -- delighted. “My apartment is right upstairs,” he said. ********************************************************* They were making out before they got in the front door. Roddy was an amazing kisser -- passionate, hungry -- their connection had the desperate electricity of teen-aged horniness, randy and rowdy, but with the skill and ability of men far more experienced. For someone so young, Roddy knew a lot about giving pleasure -- and he gave it his all. Hairless and smooth, an over-developed upper body with lean, cut legs (though a beautifully bubbled ass) the Italian Boy (with the Bambi lashes) had soft, pink, puffy nipples, perfect for sucking. And it soon became apparent that Wilson’s beard gave the boy as much stimulation as his mouth had. The boy went absolutely crazy when Wilson ate out his pink, hairless hole -- it tasted fresh and clean. “Fuck me,” the boy begged. “Please fuck me!” Wilson’s dick -- now almost as much a shower as it was a grower -- was happy to oblige. The boy was able to take it -- after a little bit of work -- and they found a common rhythm in no time. They fucked for hours. ********************************************************* It turned out, Roddy WAS a dumbass, but he was so ridiculously sincere (and good looking) that Wilson was willing to put up with him for a while post-coitus. And the sex had been off the charts! He owed the boy something. “I like living here,” the muscleboy was saying as he snuggled against Wilson’s big pec. “It’s easy. All I gotta do is find the gym and I’m home!” “Do you get lost a lot?” Wilson teased, tracing a finger down the boy’s massive bicep. The boy’s smile faltered for a moment, like he was actually concerned about something, then the grin came back. “Not that often,” Roddy said, sincerely. “And my phone tells me, anyway. I just say, ‘City Gym’ into it and it takes me home -- it’s real easy.” He giggled. “Just like me!” Wilson laughed, too -- this kid couldn’t possibly be for real. “You make enough dancing to afford a two-bedroom apartment in this neighborhood?” “I used to have a roomate,” Roddy said. “He moved out -- I think he married some rich daddy.” “Is that the goal?” Wilson asked. “To marry some rich daddy?” “Not mine,” giggled Roddy, sliding on top of Wilson. “I’m not done being young.” With that, he licked his way down Wilson’s torso, following the grooves in Wilson’s abs, and took Wilson’s big cock in his mouth -- it was little work before the old man was ready to fuck again. ********************************************************* Wilson hadn’t realized he’d been at the gym all day until he glanced outside and saw the sun setting. He’d intended to come in and catch a little pump before heading over to Jonas’ house in Malibu, but it felt so good -- and his pump was so incredible -- he just kept going. Seeing the sun setting outside surprised him -- and even scared him a little. That meant he’d been in the gym for over ten hours -- and he wasn’t even tired. Just pumped. And ready. He drove to Jonas’ in his sweaty gym clothes and dirty jockstrap, his cock full and eager. He’d never in his life looked as good as he did right now and it was incomprehensible to him that he might get better. How? He was better built (and better looking) than Jonas -- and Jonas had gone through the cycle already. By the time he got to Jonas’ door, he was a kid at Christmas. Jonas’ reaction was everything Wilson wanted it to be, aghast and impressed -- Jonas’ cock immediately got hard. Wilson pulled off his shirt and started to flex, his 28” core rock solid and tight, at odds with his 53” chest and even bigger shoulders. Looking at his legs, it seemed possible that each of his quads was the same size as his waist. How could he even move? When he hit a double bi, Jonas fell on him and began worshipping. They didn’t make it out onto the patio until nearly midnight. ********************************************************* “Well, here we are,” Jonas said, “the fourth treatment. The Boy Bag!” Wilson laughed. “The what?” “The Boy Bag,” Jonas said, holding it up by the corner and shaking it. “The Fountain of Youth.” “Oh,” Wilson said, forcing a chuckle. “I get it.” “You think the other treatments have had an effect,” Jonas said, setting up Wilson’s IV, “wait’ll you get a load of this!” As usual, Wilson was mesmerized by the flow of the liquid into his bloodstream. After a minute or two, he asked, “What’s this one gonna do? I mean, dude, I’m already as big as you…” Jonas laughed quietly. “True, you’re as big as me -- bigger! And your cock is bigger than mine, too. Ok? You gotta trust me, Wilson. I’ve gone through this a few times.” Wilson was confused. “‘A few times’? What do you mean by…?” As he spoke, his hand twitched slightly -- he looked at it -- then it twitched again. “What’s going on?” Wilson asked. “Nothing bad,” Jonas said. “Don’t worry.” He sat down on the chair next to Wilson’s lounger. “Each treatment has focused on a different aspect of your rejuvenation, right? The first one regenerated your internal organs and hormonal systems, the second dealt with the removal of visceral body-fat and unwanted body-hair, the third took care of the skin, the regrowth of muscle and repopulation of hair follicles. This last one regenerates your nervous system -- you’ll find you’re going to be insanely sensitive.” Wilson’s other hand twitched -- the arm with the IV. Jonas motioned to it. “That’s gonna keep up while your nerves go through their thing. Best if I secure you while you got the IV in you. That cool?” Wilson’s feet began to move on their own -- it was like his limbs had the hiccups -- it was freaking him out a little. “Yeah,” he said, nervously. “Okay.” Jonas fetched heavy velcro straps from a cabinet nearby. Wilson watched his own limbs lay there lifeless, twitching like electric jolts were hitting him. Part of him wanted to get up, pull the IV out and run, but he wasn’t able to control his body. Now he was seriously getting scared -- whether he trusted Jonas or not. Jonas wrapped a strap around each of Wilson’s wrists, securing them to the arms of the lounge chair, then did the same to Wilson’s feet. Lastly, he took a very big strap and wrapped it around Wilson’s torso, velcroing him to the back of the lounge. The IV dripped away -- half-empty. “That’s better,” Jonas said, taking his seat again. “Now you won’t hurt yourself. How do you feel?” Wilson smiled nervously. “Scared,” he said. “I’d rather have the nausea.” Jonas snorted. “This is only tough for a minute, WAY better than the explosive shit on the first night!” They laughed together for a second, remembering. “I guess I should calm down,” Wilson said, even as his hands began twitching in earnest. “I mean, you’ve gone through this.” Jonas looked confused for a second, then shook his head. “Well... no,” he said. “Personally, I never did the whole cycle. I stopped at the third dose.” “What do you mean, stopped? Why? I thought you’d done this!” Jonas shook his head -- he seemed thoughtful. “No,” he said quietly. “See, the fourth treatment… regenerates the nervous system… and with it, the brain.” “So?” “So, it’s the nature of the formula to regenerate the organ -- make it new. So it tends to… wipe out a lot of what existed before. That’s why I didn’t want to do it -- I needed my mind intact.” He consoled. “Look, some stuff comes through okay, language skills.. Mostly. Intellectually, you end up on a third or fourth grade level. Some memory, not a lot. Interestingly, physical skills tend to remain -- like, you’ll remember how to work out, though you won’t really have to. You’ll be great at sports, dancing, any proprioceptive activity. And you’ll be amazing at sex…” “What the fuck are you talking about?” Wilson yelled, trying to fight the restraints -- trying to control anything having to do with his body. His beautiful body -- the body that was betraying him. “Make this fucking stop, man…!” His torso began to twitch and move as nerves reset and came to life. The bag was nearly empty. Jonas tapped it with his finger. “The Boy Bag,” he said. “That’s what I call it -- you’ll see. When we’re done, you’re gonna be a beautiful boy. My best one yet!” Wilson was starting to twitch hard -- Jonas sat on the edge of the lounge and held Wilson’s shoulders, securing him and looking in his eyes. “You’ve already fucked Roddy,” Jonas said. “He was one of my first -- and we’ve really improved the formula quite a bit since then.” “Roddy?” Wilson asked. “Hot Roddy? The boy?” Jonas laughed slyly. “That ‘boy’ is only nine years younger than you. Last year, when he was old man Rodney, he was a fat, fucking loser looking to have a heart attack. Now as Hot Roddy, he’s just about perfect. You will be, too. You should be happy, Willy. You’re the oldest test case we’ve processed so far and you’re exceeding our expectations by margins that you wouldn’t believe. Very promising -- I’m excited to get through this.” “Those boys?” Wilson asked, having difficulty forming his thoughts. “Those boys are all…?” “Old men,” Jonas said. “Just like you. And by this time tomorrow, you’ll be just like them: a dim-witted but friendly whore who’s made a contribution to science. Thank you, Willy. You’re gonna make me a lot of money.” “No,” Wilson cried, unable to fight. “I don’t… want this…” Jonas laughed gently and kissed Wilson on the forehead. He stood up and watched as the last few drops dripped out of the IV bag. “Everybody gets what they want,” Jonas said, pretending to focus on the liquid. “You get eternal youth, a freakish cock, and I get another muscle guy in my stable -- a big, dominant top at that. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you, Willy. I promise you’ll be happy.” “Fucker!” Wilson barked. “Lying fuck!” “I never lied to you,” Jonas said, disconnecting the IV from Wilson’s arm. “And I’ll be honest with you now -- this transition isn’t gonna be so pleasant. The good news is, you won’t remember it, so just… bear with it as best you can. I’ll keep an eye on you.” Jonas went back into the house, leaving Wilson strapped to the lounge chair on the deck overlooking the ocean. He thought about screaming, but thinking suddenly seemed to cause him pain. Everything caused him pain. White pain. Blinding, white pain behind his eyes, obscuring his vision. It fried and reconnected every nerve ending throughout his entire body -- it swelled and bloomed and revealed onion-like layers of agony until he felt his head would explode. His body arched in the chair as his spinal cord conducted the lightning that completely fried him. By the time it ended, he was already unconscious -- and time wasn’t a concept anymore. ********************************************************* Hot Roddy came out of the locker room wearing only a wrestling singlet under a baggy t-shirt, his magnificent ass showcased in the spandex, so tight the thong Roddy wore was obvious beneath the material. Roddy did love to dress the part. He’d gotten a text from Jonas to meet him at the gym. Roddy knew where the gym was, right downstairs! And Roddy would do anything Jonas told him to do -- deep inside, Roddy knew Jonas had somehow made Roddy hot. And sexy. And a go-go dancer! And Roddy was super-grateful! So if Jonas wanted Roddy to meet him at the gym, well, that was right downstairs! Roddy was stretching on the mat when Jonas walked in, followed by the most beautiful muscle boy Roddy had ever seen. A tall guy with bright orange hair -- the sides shaved down to a tight buzz leaving the top long, sweeping -- and a full, brown beard. (He was lucky to have so full a beard at such a young age — it made him look more grown-uppy. Besides, Roddy thought beards were super-sexy, especially the way they felt on his hairless hole!) The beard was meticulously groomed and oiled, as perfect as the guy’s eyebrows and haircut. He was insanely muscular, way bigger than any other guy in the gym -- he wore these cotton/spandex stretch jeans that hugged his legs like tights, showing off the mass of his quads, cuffed just below his over-sized calves, ankle-high boots. But the real sight was his package, massive and surreal, a porn-fantasy given life. He wore a scoop-neck long-sleeve t-shirt on top that would’ve exposed his whole deep cleavage but for the length of his beard. The bottom of the tee just barely covered the top of his package, hinting… hinting... The guy caught Roddy looking and smiled, the light catching his beautiful green eyes and beginning to dance. Obviously, he liked to be looked at. “Hot Roddy!” Jonas said, suddenly in Roddy’s face, hugging him. Roddy hugged Jonas back, but continued to look at the big redhead. “Hi, Jonas,” he said, smiling. “Who’s your friend?” “Roddy! I’ve solved your roommate problem! This is Willy -- he’s looking for a place to live!” “It’s Big Willy,” mumbled the big red-headed hunk to Jonas. “You said I get to be called Big Willy!” Proudly, he looked at Roddy and said, “It’s a joke, cuz my dick is so big!” Roddy looked. “It sure is,” he said, smiling. Willy leaned in, conspiratorially. “It’s a shower AND a grower,” he said, grabbing it with his big hand. Roddy said, already getting an erection, “I live right upstairs.” A smile broke out on Willy’s face. “You live at the gym?” he asked. “For reals? Man, I would love to live at the gym!” Roddy laughed. “It’s super-easy! And if you get lost, you just say, ‘where’s the gym?’ and you find your way back every time! It’s great!” They laughed together, giggling like school girls. “You wanna see the apartment?” Roddy asked, with a teasing tone. “Yeah, I do,” Willy said, reaching up under his shirt and stroking his hard core. “I’d love to live at the gym.” Roddy turned to Jonas. “Jonas, can we go see it?” Willy laughed, clapping Jonas on the shoulder. “Jonas said I’m gonna make movies!” Willy announced. “I’m gonna make show-off movies and sexy-flexy videos and pose in front of guys for money. If I live at the gym, I can be pumped all the time! Can I, Jonas? Can I live at the gym, Jonas? Can I live with Roddy and be ready to flex all the time?” Jonas smiled. “Of course you can, big boy. Live wherever you want — I want you to be happy! Roddy, take him upstairs and show him your place.” “Okay!” beamed Roddy, grabbing Willy’s hand and fairly skipping out to the elevator. “C’mon!” They left together, laughing. Jonas watched them go -- he smiled. Turning to one of the old men entering the locker room, Jonas followed him, saying, “Hey, hot daddy… woof...” The old guy smiled back. Jonas had him hooked before he jerked the guy off in the sauna -- this one was gonna work out even better.
  3. Tattcub

    Second Chances

    Hi all you Embiggening peoples Here's a new story I'm working on. It's based on a classic Sci-fi Thriller starring Rock Hudson called Seconds. It's pretty dark and the transformations will come I promise. The First Chapter is expostion and setting the scene. Let me know what you think. I have wanted to write this down for a long time. I was unsure of where to start, unsure that anyone would believe me. Fear of ridicule and retribution were also a factor. There are people out there that I care for, I understand that now. People that can and will be harmed or worse if I breathe a word of this to another living soul. That is why I am writing this down. So you, dear reader can make your mind up, and maybe never make the same mistake I did. The organisation that I am involved with have such power, they are everywhere and could be anyone. Please be careful and more than that, be satisfied with the life you have, the life that you can control. Be the master of your own destiny. Disinterest and Boredom can lead to loathing. Not raging hate but a deep and slow loathing where you find that you care about nothing. My name is or was Elliot Shaw. I was the Assistant manager of a good-sized merchant bank downtown and was told I was the next in line for promotion when my current boss, a happily stolid man of 60 retired. I’d done my duty at the bank. Worked the late nights and did the weekend conferences. I’ve helped business and people achieve their dreams and grow for most of my working life and I had never had the satisfaction of having it for myself. I am a man, old before my time. I am in my late forties and look older, my hair has greyed and thinned earlier than it should have as if it’s reflecting the dullness and decay I have inside me. Average size and build with a typical middle age paunch from the same home cooked bland food every night. I left work on this mid-week night the same way I had done day after day, week after week, year after slow unending year. As I left the bank that evening and headed towards the station it started to rain. It was that slow annoying drizzle that manages to get everyone in it. It makes everything grey and blurry. Shades of grey amongst shades of grey. All the commuters in the city including myself trudged their way to their transport home. As it was the city centre I headed towards the main station as I always did. I had no umbrella, as usual. So I pulled up my collar and walked on through the rain. As I neared the station the rain seemed to ease a little. I put my collar down and grabbed an evening newspaper from the seller outside the station entrance and walked in and joined the throng of commuters, I was on auto-pilot. I had done this journey so many times before and didn’t really pay much attention to the world around me but as I headed to my platform I had a tap on the shoulder. I stopped and turned and there was a man in front of me. It could have been me. He was the same as me really, grey, indistinct and unremarkable. I was about to speak when he grabbed my hand and put a small piece of paper into it. “Go to this address. Use the name Wilson.” He said and looked around briefly. “Do not tell anyone about this or there will be consequences.” He warned. I was about to ask him what he meant but with that he turned into the flow of the crowd and was gone. I was a bit shocked for a second but as I looked at the paper the station announced the train was getting ready to leave. I put the small slip of paper into my pocket and boarded my train and found a seat for the 30-minute journey to my home station. I sat and made myself comfortable. I folded my paper and found it on the crossword page, for some reason I had never completed this crossword. It was a metaphor for my life. Incomplete. My thoughts wandered as I looked up from the paper out of the window and watched the rain spackled windows and the grey suburban landscape beyond pass by. I couldn’t concentrate, hadn’t been able to really since Monday night and the weird call I got. The guy with the slip of paper just added it’s ingredients to the general cocktail of weirdness. I really had this unshakable feeling that I was heading for a crossroads in my life. I took the little slip of paper out of my pocket and looked at it. It contained one line of writing on it, an address. I took out my glasses and read it. 135 Hanover st That was it. Nothing else. I felt a sense of weird expectation, I don’t know why. This one handwritten line was to change my life forever. I just didn’t know it yet. I was dragged out of my reverie by the announcement of my station. I was surprised, had it really been 30 minutes ? I gathered my things and left the train and trudged my way through the rain to my small house that was about 10 minutes away from the station. My wife was sat in the living room reading from a tablet, some novel or other. We both had our hobbies. She read romances and I usually went into the garden. We lived together in the same house and were fine as long as we didn’t have to actually interact much. “It’s still raining hard out there.” I told her, stating the obvious just to have something to say to her. She didn’t hear me, so engrossed in the 19th century bodice ripper was she. Either that or she was just ignoring me. I chose to believe the first one. I took my coat off and dumped the now sodden newspaper on the stand in the hallway. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and look away quickly. I was grey. It was like the rain had just leeched all the colour and life from me. It was the same look I had every day and had done for the last few years. I looked and felt old. I tried to shake the thought and entered the living room. She looked up then. She tried to smile in welcome but it stopped just before it reached her lips. Her eyes were still beautiful, as lovely as they were when I first met her all those years ago. They looked tired though. The last few years had been hard on her too. A loveless, dull marriage will do that. I did love her once, I loved her very much. Not any more. It’s hard to love anyone when you can barely stand to look at yourself. “It’s chicken for dinner.” She informed me. “It’ll be ready in about half an hour.” She said and turned her attention back to the kindle and the world of gardeners and ladies of the manor. We ate our dinner in silence. She was a good cook but it still tasted like paste to me. I still couldn’t shake this feeling of imminent…Something. “What’s wrong?” she said. “I..I had a weird experience on the way home.” I said. As I did the man’s warning came into my head. “What was it?” she asked. “Nothing. “ I lied “Just a bum asking for change.” I told her “Oh.” She said. I could tell by her tone she didn’t quite believe me. “I thought it might have been another call like you had the other night.” She said “No, nothing like that.” I said. The call had been weird to say the least. First of all it was on a land line that we kept purely because the internet service had provided one with their hub. Also it was one of the few things we had decided together as we had wanted to keep the old phone number we had. This had been done some time ago when we felt sentimental enough about these things. The rest of the night continued in silence as we both did our thing. She was watching some drivel on the TV and I browsed gardening ideas on the web. As I did a notification popped up on the screen. I opened my email and it was from an anonymous address and I wouldn’t have opened it if it wasn’t for the email address. It was from an old friend of mine. We went to school together and then were roommates in college. It was just a one line message it said. ANSWER THE PHONE. The phone, the house phone started to ring.
  4. godofjurai

    INFINITY BREAKERS - Part 01

    So I am putting a disclaimer here before anyone reads this. If it gets complaints, I will move it to the Member+ Section. This new series involves a 16 year old. There is sex in the later parts, but there is also Age Progression, so this teen becomes an ADULT. Just a Warning and a Precaution I wanted to take. This is also based on an RP I am currently working on with Nostson. It is still not complete but we are making sure it gets to completion so this amazing EPIC can be told in full. Currently Have enough for 4 parts... and TWO of them are already written. Anyways... Please Enjoy this twisted piece of fucked up fiction for your jerking pleasures... INFINITY BREAKERS Part 1 The Alpha The Alpha, the Universe’s only sole Guardian, is out patrolling his local city. It’s a daily thing and if he didn’t do it, well it just left it up to the local authorities. What set him apart was he had powers normal heroes didn’t have. Strength 10 times a normal human. And Super Speed. Everyone loved him, he was an all-around Hero that everyone wished they were him as well. After he just stopped another bank robbery, heading out to his next location to patrol, he noticed a teen, 16 years of age. Sizing him up 5’3” 140lbs. A nice athletic build. He was a fine specimen that in a few years when he was truly a man, He’d be one hell of a stud. The Alpha’s inner mentality made his stomach churn a bit. You see, The Alpha wasn’t always this 6’6” 345lb shredded beef of muscle. He used to be just as small as this teen, but we will get to that later. The Alpha flew in low, landing right behind the teen, pressing his first up along the wall above his head. “How’s it going sport?” He tried sounding cool, flirting in his own way as best as he could. He looked down at the teen over his pecs, as the teen looked up from his phone, giving the kid his hero’s smile. The teen watched as the fist actually punched a hole into the side of the building, bits of debris fell at their feet, a couple of pebbles and dust landed in his hair. All he could do was gawk at the massive body so close to him, eventually he saw the handsome face, smiling back. “H-hello sir!” he couldn’t find the words, his Hero was right in front of him, larger then life. “I-I’m doing fine! What are you doing here?” The Alpha placed his large hand on the teen’s shoulder, his palm fully enclosing it as he made his way to the other side of the teen’s body, bending down a bit so they were eye level. “I just finished up here, when my eye caught you! You’re a pretty handsome kid!” He took a second to adjust himself before giving him a wink and a grin. “How would you like to come back to The Alpha’s home?” The Alpha kept smiling as he brushed the dust off of the top of the teen’s hair, but in reality it was just an excuse for him to get another touch of this kid he had a crush on. The teen gasped a bit from the touch, his own hand coming up to brush against his hero’s forearm, feeling the raw power of his real life champions thick and veiny muscle. He blushed from the words, even more that this muscled powerhouse had any interest in him, and even stopping by to give him a smile and a wink. “W-why thank you, sir! You’re the most handsome guy around though! W-why would you invite me?! I-I mean, yes! Of course I want to come!” The teen continued to get flustered as he was given this once in a lifetime opportunity. The Alpha took that as his OK. In one quick sweep he spun the teen around, lifting him off his feet and scooping him into his arms. “Sorry, Sport!” He pulled a cloth out of his back pocket, tying it around the teen’s. “I can’t let you see where home is right now. So where this as a precaution and we will get there safely!” In seconds, The Alpha lifted off the ground, and took off, holding the teen close to his body, making sure even with breaking the sound barrier, the teen was safe. In mere minutes later, they slow down as The Alpha comes in for a landing, He places the teen on a chair, “Security System: Lock Down!” removing the blindfold from the teen’s eyes as giant metal shutters began closing around the entire room. “VOICE RECOGNITION COMPLETE!” the animatronic voice echoed throughout the giant room as the last shutters slid over the windows, blocking the sun completely from their views. *CLAP-CLAP* Light’s begin to turn on and illuminate the building. The teen look’s around. High Ceilings, lots of computers and electronics, even all the new and latest gaming gadgets. His hero was a gamer too! On one side of the room sat a kitchen. The other a bedroom, with a very large bed, much bigger than a King. “Wow… this is like… the room of my dreams! But why do you have all this stuff? Aren’t you busy being a hero?” The Alpha slowly pulls his gloves off, tossing them aside, followed by pulling the spandex top off his upper body. His chest glistened with sweat as he took a seat at the foot of the bed, looking over at the teen. The teens jaw dropping again from the site of his pumped body. “H-Holy fuck…” he mumbled as his body faced the hero. The Alpha pats the spot next to him on the bed as he lifts his leg up, pulling his booted foot into his lap and removing the boot, exposing his large size 15 foot. He does the same with the other boot, tossing it aside. “A hero has to have fun every now and then, doesn’t he? It gets lonely some times. The teen stepped closer, his knees threatening to give out as he approached the hero, looking away from his face, glancing down to see those massive feet and legs. He almost ended up stumbling over the massive discarded boots from not paying attention, stepping over them and making eye contact just before he was right in front of him. “Is that why you invited me then?” “Come closer, stud! I don’t bite!” He makes a chomping sound with his pearly whites. “Unless you want me to?” He winks before letting out a hardy heroic laugh. The teen backs up a bit as the hero leaned forward and pretended to bite, blushing in embarrassment as he heard the deep laugh. He slowly moves closer towards The Alpha again, sitting on the spot he initially patted, looking over at this large, muscle man’s body, seeing the thickness of his pecs and even his abs from this angle. “I-I think I’ll pass on the biting…” he was slightly confused. The hero turned to face the teen a bit. “Don’t be shy! I was once small like you! You have no need to be embarrassed in front of me.” The hero noticed the teen checking him out. Taking in everything that made him the hero. He lifted his arm up, flexed it. The bicep peaked up, perfect symmetry. “Go ahead. Touch it!” The Alpha gently takes the teen’s hand into his own, placing it on the warm rounded surface. He gives it a little flex, making it harder. “What’s your name, kid?” The teen can’t really believe what his hero was saying… he was once small like him? He watched as his hero moved his hand along his bicep. His own hand shaking a bit, but he slowly calmed down after he felt how gentle the large man was. He tried gripping the bicep, squeezing it a bit harder. Moving his second hand up on that one massive peak of hard flesh. “Oh god… I can’t even budge your arms!” He shouted excitedly, and got even more excited as his hero raised his other arm into a double bicep pose. “M-My name is Johnathan, sir! And what do you mean you were once small like me?” The Alpha watched as Johnathan continued to feel up his arms with his hands… It’s practically a worship session, which he had not hand in quite a long time, especially not from someone so HOT to him either. His own cock, stirring a bit as he got lost in the feeling. “Mmmm… A guy doesn’t just get to be like how I am, Johnny Boy… Powers… this much strength… I’m the only one like me in the entire Universe…” The Alpha lifted Johnathan up, spun him around and pulled him into his chest. “I used to be just like you a few years ago. Hell, I was even a teen! 16 to be exact…” getting lost in the feel, The Alpha ran his beard against Johnathan’s neck. His breathe warm. Pecs heaving on Johnathan’s back as he wrapped his arms around him in an embrace. “Will you be mine, Johnathan?” Johnathan blushed again as his hero gave him such a cute nickname, then snapped back to reality as hid idol he just met told him all this stuff about himself. “W-WHAT?” stammered out before he was man handled and forced into the hero’s lap. “I mean, how can I say no to you, sir?” he was being overwhelmed by everything that was happening so quick. He tried to clear his mind for a second. Thinking back to what The Alpha had told him. “You were once 16, like me. H-How did you become so…. So massive? So Powerful? So…” he took a second to swallow his fear of what he was about to ask. “S-Sexy?” Johnathan blushed as he reached up to rub his hands along the massive forearms, knowing even if he didn’t want to be there, in his heroes arms, there was no way he could move the arms holding him with his strength alone. “My power was inherited, little one…” The Alpha continued his story, kissing the teen’s neck, reaching his hand into his sexy young stud’s shorts. Johnathan blushed a bit, letting out a light moan as the large hand moved down his core and into his pants, his hands gripping onto The Alpha’s wrist as things began to move faster, not sure where things were going to go as he had never done this before with anyone, his own cock beginning to grow erect. “I mean one day the world was in complete chaos, the next I show up… seems kind of ironic don’t you think but I did clean up the mess…” His hand gripped around the shaft, 4 inches, getting harder. “Mmmm, fuck… bigger then mine used to be… and the same age.” The Alpha was lost in his own thoughts. “Fuck !&@&*$&(!*&#*(!)!*&!” The word made no sense, but the next moment changed everything. The Alpha began to breathe hard, trying to catch his breath. *THUMP* A large ball falls onto the floor, rolling away from them. “WhAt HaVe I dOnE…” The Alpha’s voice was slowly changing pitch. His shadow looming over Johnathan was beginning to shrink, and the teen felt it too. Johnathan’s back begun to sink back into the hero more. The pec’s that were once supporting him began to retract. *THUMP* Another ball… *THUMP* *THUMP* Multiple ones all bounced to different corners of the room. All different colors and some of different sizes. Johnathon snaps back to reality as he heard that strange word and the balls start to bounce. He felt movement from behind him and the higher pitch voice was beginning to worry him. “What the…” not even sure it was the same man behind him anymore, he holds the arm in front of him tighter, suddenly realizing that they are much smaller and not holding him as tightly. Johnathan turned around, just in time to see The Alpha’s body falling back onto the bed, one more ball rolls around the bed as his heroes body writhers and shrinks to even smaller sizes. “Oh my god, what’s happening to you?!” Johnathan hops over the hero’s body, leaning in over him. The hero continuing to lose size as the teen stares down. His limbs retracting inward. His torso and spine compacting. His muscles deflating. Johnathan watched as the hair on his exposed chest retreated back into his skin. All of the hero’s manly appeal wasted away and reverted back to a more boyish charm as he devolved and shrank. His body reaching Johnathan’s size, before slipping even smaller as he returned to his original 16 year old self. His super hero tights were now loose, his cock no longer bulging outward as it had also returned to its old 3 inch pencil dick size. The Alpha gave one final *GASP* as his memories of the things he had done stayed, but his genius intellect pushed his way out of his head, creating a large jawbreaker, that rolled itself right into Johnathan’s hand that was still watching in utter amazement as his hero became a 5ft 120lb wimp… To Be Continued…
  5. CrisKane

    The Boost

    Jay's new year's resolution was to get in shape, but it was already late January and he hadn't made much progress. He had always been a spindly beanpole without much interest in sports or working out, and it had never really bothered him much. In fact, he enjoyed having a metabolism that allowed him to eat pretty much any crap he wanted without gaining an ounce. Despite his sunken chest and scrawny arms, his ex-girlfriend had always insisted that she liked "skinny boys". Then again, she always claimed to to like his reddish-brown hair and pale complexion, right up until the day she dumped him for a tall, blond, tanned surfer who looked like he had just stepped off an Abercrombie bag, only he was in color. Jay had discovered one problem with taking up exercise in his mid-twenties was that he had never built up much endurance. Even though he made a concerted effort to get up early each morning to come to the health club before work, he found that his energy waned quickly once he got there. He would plod along on the treadmill for a while before he grew winded and pooped out, sometimes venturing toward the weight machines in a futile attempt to beef up his twig-thin limbs but barely working up enough of a sweat to merit a shower. It didn't do his already low self-esteem much good to start off each day surrounded by the extremely buff dudes who populated the place. Seriously, every guy here looked so jacked, Jay wondered if there was something in the water or a radiation leak. One morning, after a particularly unproductive session, Jay was on his way toward the exit, fondly pondering the sausage and egg biscuit he planned to buy on his way to the office, when he heard the whiz of a blender echoing his direction from the gym's juice bar. Jay realized that he was not helping to reach his fitness goals by stuffing his face with a pile of grease every morning, so he spun around and headed back to grab himself a smoothie. He waited behind a wall of muscle who was practically busting out of his orange stringer tank. With a bleached-blond flat-top, the guy reminded Jay of that Russian boxer from that one "Rocky" movie, just not as oily. He was handed a jumbo styrofoam cup by the guy behind the counter, and pushed his way past Jay without even registering his presence. The counter guy was not as inhumanly built as ol' Flat-Top but annoyingly handsome, with dirty blond hair, riveting blue eyes, a model's cheekbones and a firm jaw upon which he kept a carefully maintained two-day growth of stubble. He crossed his arms, which only highlighted the pump of his biceps and thickness of his pecs. He let loose a gleaming white smile as he saw Jay approach. "Hey, what can I get you, buddy?" Jay jerked a thumb toward the departing steroid case and joked, "I'll have what he's having." The guy behind the counter squinted at Jay uncertainly. "Not sure you could handle what he ordered." Jay decided not to explain that he hadn't been serious and turned his focus to the menu on the chalkboard behind the counter, wondering why all of the drinks had such stupid names. Perhaps just to embarrass the customers when they ordered them? Jay opted for the least cringeworthy flavor. "Can I just get an Orange Delite?" "Sure thing," said the clerk, assembling the ingredients with a flair for showmanship, even tossing a scoop of frozen yogurt from behind his back and over his shoulder, then deftly catching it in the pitcher of the blender. Just before he was ready to mix the concoction together, he paused and glanced back at Jay. "Do you want a boost with that?" Jay shook his head. "Nah, that's okay. I don't think I need one." The guy gave Jay a long look. "Gotta say, you look pretty tired, my man. You could really use something to kick up your energy level a notch." He pointed toward a plastic canister heaped with deep red granules. "What are you talking about, like caffeine or something? I don't want to be jittery at work." The guy waved his hands dismissively. "Nah, this stuff is totally safe, completely natural. Just gives you a pleasant buzz that keeps you revved up all day." When he noticed that Jay was still wincing with uncertainty, the guy sweetened the deal. "Tell you what. I'll toss in a scoop for free today. You come back tomorrow and tell me how you liked it." Jay shrugged. "Well, I guess I can't argue with free!" Before he had even finished the sentence, the guy was dumping a scoop of the red powder into the blender and whipping up Jay's drink. He poured it out and handed it across the counter to Jay, who took a cautious sip. Not only was it delicious, but he felt a definite tingle across his taste buds, a bit like the explosive burst of a mouthful of Pop Rocks. Jay nodded approvingly and handed over the money for the drink. The guy rang up the transaction and placed the change in Jay's palm, grasping his new customer's hand in a firm shake in the process. "I'm Max. Nice to meetcha." Jay swallowed a mouthful of smoothie and gave his name in response. "All right, Jay. Look forward to getting your full report tomorrow!" Jay could feel the first effects of the boost kicking in by the time he reached his car. It was subtle but he definitely sensed an extra spring in his step. By the time he reached work, he was greedily sucking the last drops through his straw. He raced over from the parking lot to hold open the lobby door for Francine, the pretty young receptionist, who was arriving at the same time. Jay had long harbored a bit of a crush on Francine, but he knew she was dating a bearded outdoorsy type who sometimes showed up at the office reeking of Old Spice and B.O. Francine stepped into the elevator and held the door open for Jay, but Jay informed her that he would take the stairs today. In the two years he had worked here, Jay couldn't recall anyone ever mounting the seven flights between the lobby and the office except during a fire drill, but today Jay felt like he had energy to burn. He bounded into the stairwell, taking the steps two or three at a time. When Francine's elevator arrived on seven, Jay was already waiting outside the office suite with his arms folded, trying to look nonchalant and conceal his heavy breathing. Jay volunteered to start the coffee, usually one of Francine's tasks, although he had no need for any himself this morning. He was already sufficiently buzzed from the boost. He sat down at his cubicle and dug into his work, finishing all of his assignments for the day by eleven a.m. He would usually take advantage of a lull by surfing the internet or playing computer solitaire, but he was far too restless. Instead, he roamed the office, asking if anyone had anything he could help them with. Jay's middle-aged boss Henry overheard this and gestured Jay into his office, handing him a thick folder and saying he needed a summary of its contents written up by the end of the day. Jay eagerly grabbed the folder and said he would get right on it. He dove right in, his attention so riveted on the task at hand that he worked straight through lunch, not even taking a break for a snack or a leak. At three o'clock, he brought Henry the finished summary, still warm from the laser printer, then informed Henry of a (non-existent) dental appointment that he had forgotten to mention earlier. Henry was so astonished by Jay's sudden productiveness that he gladly let Jay take the rest of the afternoon off, promising to read through Jay's work overnight. Jay pulled off his necktie as he ran down the seven floors to the lobby. When he stepped outside, he inhaled deeply, relieved to have escaped the stuffy confines of the office. He was still so pumped that he considered heading back to the gym, but decided instead to go to his car and slip on his workout clothes for a quick jog in the nearby park. It was a cool day, but Jay found the brisk air invigorating as he chugged around the running path. He wasn't setting any records -- he barely outpaced an elderly woman out for a stroll with her walker -- but, for the first time in memory, he was honestly psyched to be exercising. He rewarded himself for his productive day by swinging into a sports bar, still sweaty in his black tank top and gray sweat pants, and filling up on Buffalo wings and a pitcher of beer. When he was done, he headed back to his apartment with the intention of catching up on the "Downton Abbey" episodes that were piling up on his DVR, but once he sat down on his sofa, his energy level plummeted. He was dozing in a matter of minutes, not waking until he heard his alarm sounding in the bedroom at 5:30 the following morning. Jay felt miserable, an unholy union of utter exhaustion and the worst hangover of his life. He could barely lift himself off the couch, and crawled his way into the bedroom to shut off the buzzing clock. He was tempted to blow off the gym, but he felt the need to complain to Max about how shitty he felt. At least he was still in his workout clothes and didn't have to expend any effort changing. He stuffed his work clothes into his gym bag and dragged himself out the door. Max spotted Jay the moment he entered the club, an eager smile plastered on his too-perky-for-six-a.m. face. When he noticed Jay's demeanor, Max's expression shifted abruptly to one of concern. "Dude, are you feeling okay?" "No, 'dude', I'm not," Jay said, his voice prickly. "You should have warned me that I'd crash like this." Max cringed. "Ooh, sorry, yeah, I forgot to tell you, the first day does take a lot out of you. But the good news is, the effects are cumulative. The more the boost builds up in your system, the less extreme the drop-off. But tell me about yesterday? Didn't it feel amazing?" Jay couldn't deny how jazzed he had felt throughout the day. "Yeah, it was awesome, just like you promised, but I don't think it's for me. I don't think it's good to be walking around on an artificial high." "Dude, I told you, this shit's a hundred percent natural. Here, let me give you another freebie. See if it peps you up through your workout." Jay began to object, but Max waved a finger his direction. "Uh uh uh, you listen to your old doctor Max here. This is just what you need." Soon, he had whipped up a frothy Orange Delite and was handing it to Jay, who felt it would be impolite to refuse. The moment he took a sip, he felt foolish for hesitating. The cloud of fatigue that had been wearing him down lifted almost immediately. Jay gave Max a thumbs-up, and Max shot back a "told you so" grin. Jay dumped his gym bag in the locker room and polished off the smoothie before heading to the treadmill, where he managed a full thirty-minute sprint without getting winded. He then made his way to the weight machines and found himself easily lifting weights that were overtaxing him the week before. They were still comparatively miniscule, and he felt embarrassed each time he stepped into rotation with some top-heavy lifter and had to reduce the stack by a full hundred pounds before he did his set, but by his own standards, he had made a remarkable improvement. He could honestly feel his muscles growing tight, and between sets, he focused his attention on the guys around him, studying their movements for tips on improving his form. Jay was so wrapped up in his workout that he didn't even notice the time until he glanced at a clock that read 7:45. He couldn't believe he had been exercising for close to two hours. Although he normally would have become frantic at the realization that he was now unavoidably late for work, Jay felt remarkably unperturbed. There was nothing he could do about it, he told himself, so why stress out over something he couldn't change? Instead, he took a luxurious shower, dressed himself slowly, and stopped by the smoothie bar on his way to the exit. "I think I'll try the Choco-Mocha Loco," he declared to Max. "With a boost." Max looked at him skeptically. "Another boost? On top of the one you already had." "I feel like I burnt off a lot of that in my workout. I wanna keep this feeling going." "Oh-kay. You're the boss." Max set about gathering the ingredients. "But no more freebies, okay? I insist on paying for this one. So, how much will it be?" "Large smoothie is $7.99. Boost is another ten. So, $17.99." Jay gulped, surprised to discover that he was about to pay eighteen bucks for a friggin' milkshake. Then again, ten dollars seemed like a bargain for the feeling the boost gave him. He gladly forked over a twenty, putting the change into Max's tip jar. Max smiled appreciatively and handed Jay his drink. With a second scoop of the powerful substance surging through his veins, Jay felt ecstatic. He took the stairs again, bursting with so much energy that he overshot the seventh floor by five flights before he realized his mistake. He strode into the office with absolute confidence, and rather than ducking the wrath of his boss, he walked straight into Henry's office and said, "Sorry for being late." "What?", said Henry, glancing up from his schmeared onion bagel, spitting particles of cream cheese onto his desk. "Oh, no problem. Listen, Jay, hell of a job on that summary. Really impressive." "Thank you, Henry," responded Jay with an uncharacteristically cocky grin. "I'm glad to see you showing some initiative." Henry studied his employee curiously. "What's different about you? You lose weight or something?" Jay barked a laugh. "With MY body? I sure hope not. But I have been working out every morning." "Oh. That must be it," Henry said with a nod. "The wife keeps telling me I should get in shape, but..." Henry shrugged and slapped his palm across his expansive belly. The resulting concussion echoed around the room. "Maybe you'll have to let me in on your secret." Jay just smiled and went to his cubicle, eager to dive into work. But unlike the previous day, Jay found it hard to stay focused on his tasks, as his thoughts kept drifting back to how good that morning's workout had felt. He squirmed in his chair, the words on his computer screen blurring into gobbledygook. His palms grew clammy, and drops of sweat beaded up on his forehead. He popped his top shirt button and loosened his necktie, feeling straitjacketed in his Oxford shirt and Dockers. He slogged through his assignments the best he could, but he found himself longing to get back outside. Maybe he could go for another run at lunchtime. He ducked out for lunch twenty minutes early, changed clothes in the car and hit the running path, vowing to take it easy but soon finding himself taking long strides and whizzing past other joggers. He wondered why he hadn't taken up running when he was in high school, as he was finding the adrenalin rush addictive. He loved the feel of his hair blowing in the breeze, the cool air rushing past his skin, the envious glares of the slowpokes he was passing. When he returned to his cubicle, munching on a power bar from the vending machines, he was drenched in sweat, still wearing his tank and sweats. He had hoped that the run would clear his mind, but he had even more trouble grasping what he was reading than he had in the morning. Besides that, he was distracted whenever he glanced down at his arms, which shone with perspiration and still retained their pump from that morning's workout. He kept flexing his arms, unable to get enough of the sight of stony biceps rising in rigid semicircles beneath his skin. He was in the middle of checking himself out when he noticed Henry out of the corner of his eye, hovering at the entrance of the cubicle. "Yeah, Henry, what can I do you for?" Henry looked uncomfortable as he whispered, "It's nothing personal. It's just that...some of the other employees are complaining." "What about?", asked Jay, swiveling back and forth. Henry leaned closer, but backed off, wincing. "It's just that you...you kinda stink." "Really?" Jay lowered his nose toward his armpit. He definitely detected a musky scent, but he kinda liked it. "Sorry, I went running over lunch." "Yeah, about that. I'm all for you getting fit and everything, but this really isn't proper office attire," he said, waving his hands toward Jay's tank, sweats and sneakers. "Well, I woulda showered if we had the facilities, but..." Jay shrugged his rounder-than-usual shoulders. "I couldn't exactly put on my office clothes and smell 'em up." "Yeah, I know. Look, don't worry about it for today, but how about from now on, you restrict your workouts to before and after work?" Jay wasn't sure he could endure a whole workday without breaking for exercise, but Henry had always been a decent guy and treated him well, so Jay agreed. For the rest of the afternoon, Jay continued to struggle with his work. He knew what he was doing was routine, the sort of stuff he could usually breeze through, but his heart just wasn't in it today. He handled what he could, but his attention drifted further as the day dragged on. When five o'clock hit, he left a few folders in his inbox so he could tackle them in the morning when his mind was fresh. On his way out, he couldn't help but notice that Felicia couldn't keep her eyes off him as he strode through the outer office, his bare arms swinging at his sides. He found himself winking at her, which felt odd. He'd never been a winking kind of guy, but it just felt right all of a sudden. It warmed his heart when she smiled back. Jay swung by Whole Foods on the way home, stocking up on groceries more appropriate for his new regimen. Once he got home, he whipped up some grilled chicken and settled in at his computer. After glancing at his emails and Facebook, his gaze drifted to the file which held the bookmarks for his favorite porn sites, but he found that nothing was holding his interest for long. Instead, all he could think about was getting back into the gym in the morning. He searched online for tips that would make his workouts more productive and grew envious of the shredded models on all of the fitness sites. He stripped off his tank and stared in the bathroom mirror, disappointed that the modest gains he had seen during the day had all but faded away. He chided himself. "What the fuck did you expect? You work out for one day and suddenly you're the Rock?" He switched off the computer and flopped into bed before eight o'clock, totally wiped out. When his hand slammed onto the buzzing alarm clock at 5:30, Jay felt weary but, just as Max promised, not quite as miserable as he had been the morning before. Today, however, he had no hesitations about heading into the gym. There was no way he could get through another day without a little boost. Or two. "Two?", Max asked. "You sure you can handle that much?" "I did two yesterday and I was fine," Jay told him, writing off his distractedness on the job as part of getting acclimated to his new routine. Jay consciously puffed out his chest so it better filled his crisp white tank, knowing he still had a lot of hard work ahead of him if he ever hoped to get as toned as Max, let alone the more shredded adonises parading around the gym. He was almost giddy as he slid twenty-eight dollars across the counter to cover his Razzleberry Extreme, slipping Max an extra five for a tip. He guzzled his drink so quickly that an ice-cream headache pierced his brain. As he waited for the cold-induced agony to subside, Jay reminded himself, "No pain, no gain." Jay didn't have to wait long for the rush of the boost to kick in, and soon his legs were flying on the treadmill. He pushed himself to forty-five minutes, unsure whether to attribute his euphoria to the boost or to the "runner's high" he'd heard so much about all these years but was experiencing for the first time. At any rate, he was thoroughly pumped when he finally stepped off the treadmill and, instead of using the weight machines, decided to wander over to the free weights, where the serious bodybuilders congregated. Jay held his shoulders back as he approached the dumbbells, attempting to hoist a pair of sixties before realizing they were far too heavy for him. He worked his way down the rack, testing each lower weight unsuccessfully until he finally managed to budge the thirty-pounders. As he strained to curl them, he heard a lumbering voice from behind him. "You're not doin' it right." Jay glanced in the mirror and saw the guy with the blond flat-top looming behind him, his absurdly jacked muscles fully visible in his black mesh tank. Flat-Top waddled closer on his bloated legs and gripped Jay's upper arms, adjusting their positions. "Try that. And do each rep slower. You'll feel the burn more." "Uh...thanks," Jay said. He raised his right arm gradually, immediately noticing the difference. He glanced into the mirror and nodded appreciatively. The big guy just smiled back and walked over to a 200-pound barbell, which he hoisted over his head with a scream and a grimace. Jay became completely engrossed in his workout, his attention focused intently on the effect each exercise was having on its targeted muscle group. Flat-Top would stroll past from time to time to check on him or offer advice on proper form. Two days ago, Jay couldn't have imagined ever talking to this guy, but now he felt, if not accepted, at least tolerated, despite the vast disparity between their physiques. On one such pass, Flat-Top leaned close to Jay and murmured conspiratorially into his ear, "So, you on the boost?" Jay was flustered, nearly letting the weights slip from his hands. How did the guy know? "Uh, yeah, maybe, a little," he said with an apologetic tone. "Ain't it awesome?", asked Flat-Top, flashing a gap-toothed grin that made the he-man look momentarily like a goofy kid expressing his excitement over a new Christmas toy. Jay nodded, then turned his attention back to his triceps, pausing mid-curl when he had a sudden realization. Flat-Top must be on the boost too! After all, the first time Jay had noticed Flat-Top, he was getting a smoothie from Max, one that Max had said was too much for Jay to handle. Holy shit, how much of the stuff must it take to get as ripped as Flat-Top? Just the thought that he might eventually grow to such a massive size was enough to stiffen Jay's cock in his sweats. He was relieved that they were too baggy for his hard-on to be noticeable. He found himself wondering if the boost had the same notorious shrinking effect on your junk as steroids. He was satisfied with the answer he got from glancing in the mirror at Flat-Top's reflection, as a zucchini-sized lump was clearly outlined by his body-hugging compression shorts. Jay shook his head to get the visual out of his mind, wondering how he had reached the point where he was checking out other guys' bulges. Jay thought it could be wishful thinking, but he could swear that his arms were looking heftier. His shoulders looked distinctly round, a marked change from their usual boniness, and that telltale weightlifter's vein was now faintly visible over the surface of each of his biceps. This only encouraged him to keep pushing himself, moving up to heavier weights with each set. Logically, he ought to be feeling fatigued, but surprisingly his stamina seemed to be growing the longer he worked out. He was so engrossed in lifting that, before he knew it, it was closing in on ten a.m. How was it possible that he had spent four hours at the gym? He knew he couldn't simply waltz into the office two hours late without facing repercussions. Plus, he really was not in the mood to spend the rest of his day imprisoned in that cubicle. Jay headed to the locker room and checked his cell phone, which had three missed messages from Henry. He didn't even bother to listen to the messages before he dialed his boss. Henry sounded exasperated when he picked up, demanding to know why Jay hadn't called him back sooner. Jay spoke hoarsely, his voice sounding even deeper than he had planned to make his ruse sound authentic. "I'm sorry, Henry. I woke up in the middle of the night with a terrible head cold, so I slammed some NyQuil and I musta shut off my ringer, 'cause I didn't hear any of your calls come in. I really don't think I can make it in today." Henry paused before reluctantly saying, "Okay. Take it easy and feel better. But from now on, you leave your phone on. A bunch of us here were worried about you." Jay smirked. Yeah, I bet "a bunch of you" were worried. He thought of the way Henry had asked about his weight and had seemed so nervous when Jay was wearing his tank in the office the day before. He wondered if Henry was checking him out. He knew Henry was married and all, but that didn't mean shit. Jay chuckled. As if he would be interested in some old, out-of-shape guy like Henry when he was surrounded by so many hotter, younger guys at the gym. Jay hung up, delighted that he now had the whole day ahead of him. He was tempted to go back on the floor and lift some more, but surely four hours was plenty for one day. A nice, long shower sounded tempting, so Jay stripped down, wrapped a towel around his waist and headed toward the shower room. Rounding the corner, he immediately collided with someone. "Oh, sorry, dude," said a familiar voice. Jay took a step back and realized it was Max, totally naked. As fit as Max looked fully clothed, it was nothing compared to seeing every facet of his finely-wrought musculature on display. His skin seemed to be shrink-wrapped around every curve of his well-defined muscles, without a trace of a tan line. Max took a long look at Jay and said, "Whoa, Jay-man, look at you! I guess you COULD handle two scoops!" As Jay looked down bashfully, he noticed just how pumped he had gotten from his long workout. His whole body seemed to have swollen, and a cleft had developed down the center of his abdomen, branching out to the sides in the beginnings of a six-pack. "Yeah, I guess so," Jay said, his voice still surprisingly raspy. He felt his erection rising, tenting his towel enough that Max must have noticed it. "Very impressive," Max said, placing his palm over Jay's shoulder and sliding it down until his thumb grazed the slope of his biceps and his fingers wrapped around Jay's triceps. Jay's first instinct was to pull his arm away from this unwanted contact, but for some reason he didn't mind Max's touch. He noticed Max's unencumbered cock growing plump and tilting slightly upwards. Jay's brain struggled to comprehend the possibility that a seemingly regular dude like Max might be turned on by guys or, even more unbelievably, might be turned on by Jay. "I gotta go," said Jay, unconvincingly, his voice cracking as if puberty were reasserting itself a decade late. He tried to step away, but Max maintained a firm grip on his arm. "Do you? Really?" Max flashed his winning smile and his blue eyes locked in on Jay. "'Cause I could swear I just heard you calling in sick." Max's hand grazed across Jay's pecs, then down his rudimentary abs until his fingers came to rest along the edge of Jay's towel. Jay's breath grew shallow, while his pulse raced. Goddamn, he realized, Max looked even more handsome at such close proximity. Although Jay was straight, he couldn't deny the attraction he was feeling for Max at that moment. It occurred to Jay that Max wasn't just a good-looking guy, he was objectively prettier than any of the women Jay had ever dated. While Jay couldn't really understand the strange feelings he was experiencing, they were strong and impossible to ignore. He stood frozen in place, unsure what to do next. Max handled the decision making, taking Jay by the hand and dragging him into the sauna. He shut the door behind them and posted a "closed for maintenance" sign to keep out intruders. The dry heat was making Jay lightheaded. His knees buckled, but Max kept a firm grip on Jay's hands to keep him from falling down. Max yanked the towel away from Jay's waist and smiled approvingly at the sight of Jay's bobbing erection. Although Max couldn't be sure how well-endowed Jay had been before starting the boost, he hadn't possessed the swagger and confidence one would normally expect from someone packing such a hefty slab of meat between his legs. Besides, Max had seen the boost's effects first-hand so many times that he could easily identify its exquisite handiwork. Jay's eyes were glazing over as Max leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Don't be afraid. This is all perfectly natural." At the sound of those words, the final shreds of Jay's resistance melted away and he surrendered to his physical desires. He cupped his hands around Max's bristly cheeks and planted a succulent kiss on Max's soft lips. Jay's cock indicated its approval by tilting toward the ceiling and oozing out a dollop of cum. Max cupped and fondled Jay's balls as his tongue migrated into Jay's mouth. Max guided Jay to one of the wooden benches along the side of the room, gently pushing him downward to a seated position so Jay was at eye level with Max's rigid cock. Jay began to salivate at the sight of it hovering right in his face. He gazed up, his eyes silently pleading for permission. Max just nodded, and Jay leaned forward, lips open as he slid the other man's rock-hard dick inside his mouth. Jay had never done this before but, to quote Max, it felt perfectly natural. Max stroked his hands through Jay's thick brown hair, clutching its strands and gently sliding Jay's head back and forth. He had known on first sight that Jay would be an excellent target for the boost. Anyone who radiated that much shyness and insecurity would be much more receptive to the radical changes brought about by the boost. Max knew that the powder's rapid results had an addictive allure which would quickly leave Jay craving more. He had also known that the boost's most notorious side effect would soon permanently alter Jay's deepest desires, just as it had for so many before him, such as Chuck, the behemoth who Jay thought of as "Flat-Top". Three weeks ago, Chuck had been even shorter and meeker and more frail than Jay had been. Now Chuck had undergone a total transformation into a ferocious muscle beast who, when he wasn't pumping iron, spent his days prowling the city, attempting to quench his insatiable desire for dick and discovering that someone as shredded as he had become didn't need to search for very long to find a willing partner. And then there was Max himself. Max had been a collegiate swimmer engaged to his high-school girlfriend when he was first exposed to the boost five years ago while seeking a safe, legal substance that would give him an edge in the pool. He quickly succumbed to its allure, exploding with two hundred pounds of solid muscle before plunging off the deep end into a lost weekend of cock-centric debauchery that lasted six months. When he finally bottomed out three years ago, turning tricks and committing petty thefts for the sole purpose of scrounging up the money for his next hit of the red stuff, he was befriended by a dashing young businessman who took Max into his home and nursed him back to health. His benefactor gradually cut back Max's intake of the boost to a maintenance level that sustained the trim, nicely-proportioned physique Max now sported and set Max up with a job behind the smoothie counter at a local gym that he owned. Max figured he owed the businessman his life and was willing to do anything for him, even if it meant luring new customers into using the boost, despite what Max knew personally of the consequences of excessive use. Easily half of the club's clientele had been turned onto the boost by Max, and they owed their hard bodies and ravenous sexual appetites to it. Max had long suspected that his mysterious guardian was also the manufacturer of the boost, since he could get his hands on unlimited quantities any time he wished, but Max felt powerless to say anything. If he didn't do as he was told, his supply could be cut off immediately and he would once again be back on the streets, doing whatever it took for his next boost. Jay, of course, knew none of this. He just knew that nothing had ever turned him on as much as feeling Max's mighty meat against his tongue. Jay wrapped a free hand around his own cock, stroking it furiously, the pre-cum euphoria already more dizzying than any full-blown orgasm he had experienced. He felt something warm and viscous squirt against the roof of his mouth, followed by a larger blast which shot straight down his throat. Jay nearly gagged, but kept sliding Max's shaft between his lips as it throbbed in rhythm, pumping out so much cum that it began to dribble out the corners of Jay's mouth and trickle down his chin. Jay's cock fired off a torrent of jizz which squirted upwards onto Max's taut abs and dripped downward, sizzling as it hit the sauna's hot wooden slats. Jay leaned back his head, spent but satisfied. His smiled blissfully, unaware that the boost was deadening any parts of his brain which didn't immediately involve what would become his new twin obsessions, working out and fucking guys. By now, Max knew how to spot all the signs of this final stage of the transformation. Tension evaporated from the body, leaving the user feeling completely chill, even in a sauna. This total relaxation relaxed the facial muscles, which not only made the user happier and feel more at ease but inevitably made them look more handsome too. Finally, the eyes intensified in the vibrancy of their color, while the light behind those eyes noticeably dimmed. Max still retained a faint memory of having been smarter once, but he never could recall exactly what kind of information used to clutter up his mind. Whatever it was, he never seemed to miss it. His interests may have narrowed, but the absence of intellectual distractions let him devote his full concentration to his body's more elemental cravings. Max looked down at Jay with a kindly grin. "Did you like that?" Jay tilted his head up, his lovely face beaming dopily. "For sure!", he replied. His brain felt pleasantly fuzzy, like his skull was filled with cotton candy. Noticing the trail of cum still trickling down Max's torso, Jay leaned forward and placed his tongue on Max's salty skin. He gradually rose to his feet, licking up the mixture of his own cum and Max's sweat as his tongue navigated over the bumps of Max's abs and the smooth crevasse between his pecs. When he reached his full height, Jay discovered that he was now eye-to-eye with Max and nearly as ripped. There was nothing better than being a big strong guy, thought Jay, aside from fucking a big strong guy. Max unlocked the sauna door and led Jay into the shower room, so they could clean off. Jay took particular delight in lathering Max's body and scrubbing him down. Returning to the locker room, Jay sat down beside his locker, struggling to remember his combination. When he finally managed to open it, he pulled out his work clothes, but the sleeves of his shirt were now far too narrow to accommodate his thickly-muscled arm. He managed to insert most of one forearm before the seam split loudly. "What are you doin', man?", Max asked. "Aren't you gonna work out today?" Jay puzzled over that, realizing Max was right. What was he thinking, coming to the gym and then forgetting to work out? Man, he sure was feeling dumb lately. He wriggled free from his ruined dress shirt and began to pull a white tank top over his head, but even that was too constraining for his broad chest. "Looks like you need some new clothes, my friend. Tell you what, I'll take you shopping after we're done working out." It just so happened that one of Max's benefactors' business was a big-and-tall menswear store, and Max had brought them dozens of loyal customers over the years. He tossed Jay an XXL shirt and roomy basketball shorts. "Here, you can wear these for now." Before working out, Jay insisted on getting a double-boost smoothie, indicating no memory that he had already had two boosts that morning. Jay ducked behind the counter at the juice bar and whipped up a Pina Cool-ada, handing the cup across the counter and saying to Jay, "That'll be fifty bucks." That seemed kinda pricey to Jay, but he couldn't honestly remember what he had paid before. All he knew was he desperately needed that boost in order to achieve the results he desired. He didn't have enough cash, so he put it on his debit card. As Max knew better than most, once you were hooked on the boost and chasing that rush, no price was too high. The key, his mentor had taught him, was to charge the maximum amount possible without drawing undue attention to your actions. There was a reason the boost wasn’t officially on the menu board and was never rung up on the register. Jay slammed down the drink in a single gulp, then roared, "Let's fuckin' do this, bro." He gave Max a fist bump, then he marched purposefully toward the free weights. Max followed behind, admiring the way Jay's new muscles rebalanced themselves in an intricate dance with each stride and the way his prominent glutes bounced inside his shorts. Jay and Flat-Top alternated sets, egging on each other to ever-increasing weights. Flat-Top was already impossibly shredded, and Jay seemed determined to catch up to him as fast as possible. Max hung back, sporadically doing a few light curls to keep himself toned but not overdoing it, knowing that moderation was the key to preventing him from relapsing. He was happy with his physique, although he could still appreciate the sight of others pushing themselves to the max. When Jay went into work the next morning, he brought with him a box full of free smoothies, compliments of the gym. He wore a white polo shirt which snugly hugged the contours of his torso and cargo shorts which showed off the sinewy bulges of his calves, eliciting stares of wonder and gasps of disbelief from his co-workers. They wouldn't be his co-workers for long, as Jay already planned to submit his resignation. He no longer had any interest in his job and, although he didn't realize it, had lost the intellectual capacity to do it effectively any more. No, he planned to spend his days at the gym from now on, hanging out with his new buddies and perfecting his bod. The other guys at the gym had been very cool and welcoming to him, even though he still had lots of work to do before he was quite in their league. Jay wasn't worried about no longer having a salary, because Max had said he would cover Jay's expenses, including the hundred dollars he owed for every boosted smoothie he drank. All Jay had to do in return was recruit new members into the gym and sing the praises of the boost. That shouldn't be a problem for someone as uninhibited and outgoing as Jay, who rarely talked about anything other than the gym. He was literally a walking, talking billboard for the results that could be achieved there, with a brand new tattoo of the gym's name arching across his traps. Jay walked into Henry's office and placed a large smoothie in the middle of his desk. "You wanted to know my secret? There it is!" Henry looked at the drink, then up at Jay, who had somehow grown phenomenally during his "sick day". The face was still recognizable, although somehow more handsome, perched atop his thickened neck and broad bodybuilder's physique. Henry's jaw hung slack, speechless. "Go ahead," Jay's voice boomed as he gestured toward the drink. "Trust me, you'll love it." Noticing Henry's hesitation, Jay said, "Don't worry, man. It's totally natural." Henry found it impossible to defy the commanding figure hovering on the other side of his desk. He took a cautious sip. It was definitely tasty. And it had an indefinable zing that sent a charge through his body the second it hit his tongue. He was impressed. "Mmm. I think I could get hooked on this." Jay grinned. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. He could already envision Henry's gut melting away, his double chin vanishing, his wrinkles fading, his comb-over filling in... Why, give Henry enough boost and he could be downright fuckable. Francine sidled up beside Jay, gently pressing her hand against his upper arm. "Think I could get one of those, Jay?", she asked with a slight purr in her voice. "Sorry," Jay said, looking down with mock regret. "I only brought enough for the guys." * * * Jay escorted his former boss Henry into the health club like a proud tour guide showing a foreign dignitary around the White House. Henry was awestruck -- not by the building, which was a bit run-down and grungy, at least compared to the slick and sanitary big-name chain gym his wife had bought him a membership to a few years ago (and which he visited a handful of times before deciding he was a lost cause). No, what caught Henry's eye was the clientele. He was practically getting whiplash noticing all of the stunningly well-muscled guys circulating around him. The place was hard-body heaven. Henry only had a single boosted smoothie the day before, a freebie that Jay had given him at the office, and his response was essentially the same as Jay's after his first one. Henry had become incredibly energetic and productive on the job, his instincts keener and reflexes sharper than he had ever experienced. Even colors and sounds seemed more vivid than usual. This was followed by a wave of overwhelming fatigue that set in with a vengeance around suppertime. All afternoon, the rejuvenated Henry had hoped to surprise his wife Diane with an uncharacteristically vigorous night in the sack, powered by his sudden surge of virility, but he was already snoring on the sofa before Vanna lit up a single letter on "Wheel Of Fortune". Diane dutifully dragged her near-comatose hubby into the bedroom and hooked him up to his sleep apnea machine, where he remained deep in slumber until dawn. So much for romance. When he awoke in the morning and stumbled bleary-eyed into the bathroom, seeing his reflection in the mirror was a crushing reality check. He may have felt like a dynamo the day before, but staring back at him in the mirror was his familiar 46-year-old self, with sagging jowls, an ample gut, and graying strands stretching desperately from one ear to the other in a valiant but unsuccessful attempt to create the illusion of a full head of hair. He may have felt like a million dollars yesterday, but this morning his body would be lucky to fetch twenty bucks on Craigslist. And that would only be for the chemicals. Henry's brain was about as functional as a six-pound wad of bubble gum, so when he first heard the doorbell, he had no clue who could possibly be paying him a visit at six a.m. In his bathrobe and slippers, Henry shuffled to the front door, where his former employee Jay stood in a blue tank top and ripped jeans, jacked arms arcing outward like steroid-fueled parentheses at his sides, bountiful bangs descending across his forehead. "Ready to get pumped?", Jay asked enthusiastically, reminding Henry that he had agreed to come to Jay's gym for a complimentary workout. Henry attempted to weasel out, claiming extreme exhaustion, but Jay insisted that Henry's attitude would change once he actually got there. What finally changed Henry's mind was the promise of another smoothie like the one he had so enjoyed yesterday. He hastily tossed a plain white t-shirt, sweatpants and his grass-stained lawn-mowing sneakers into a paper bag, kissed his dozing wife on the cheek, and followed Jay's car to the health club. Entering the club, Henry figured he must be the oldest man in the place by a wide margin. He knew he was twenty years older than young Jay, and Jay had grown even more youthful-looking since he had started coming here. Henry had been amazed by how swiftly Jay had transformed, with the meek and anemic non-entity from the office exploding practically overnight into the strapping, confident stud now preening beside him. He didn't expect those kind of results, but if there was even a chance that this place could help Henry lose a few pounds or look a smidgen younger, he wanted in on the secret. Jay led his new recruit to the juice bar, where Henry saw the dazzlingly rugged Max standing at his post, dipping as he leaned back against a shelf, sneaking in a few reps as he worked to keep his triceps in top condition. Jay was sure that Max would be pleased that his first recruit was such a potential gold mine. Thanks to an errant accounting document that was left in a copy machine and promptly circulated throughout the office, Jay knew Henry's exact income down to the penny. Given Henry's pedestrian wardrobe, ten-year-old compact car, and modest suburban home, Jay knew Henry must have socked most of that salary away in savings. Now that Henry's first taste of the boost had lit the flames of a desire to become hunkier, he could afford to pay handsomely to achieve handsomeness. Although Max had been excited when Jay texted him that he had "reeled in a big fish", Max was less enthusiastic now that he saw Henry in the sagging flesh. He wasn't a lost cause by any means. If you looked past the wear-and-tear of parenting and a half-century of a sedentary desk job, there were still traces which suggested that Henry was probably a decent-looking guy in his youth. But at middle age, Henry was, to put it charitably, a fixer-upper. Sort of like New Orleans, post-Katrina. For this kind of heavy lifting, Max knew that even the boost would need a boost. "Henry, this is my main man Max," Jay boomed proudly, gesturing toward the man who manned the blenders. "Just tell him what flavor you want and he'll mix you up another one of those incredible smoothies." Henry would definitely need something to perk him up if he was actually going to exercise at this godforsaken hour. He surveyed his options on the blackboard behind Max's head with the worried gaze of someone scanning the menu for something suitably bland and recognizable on their first visit to a Botswanan restaurant. "Is the Peach Perfection any good?" "What part of 'Perfection' don't you understand?", asked Max with a charming grin that put Henry at ease. Henry watched as the master tossed together a combination of peaches, frozen yogurt, skim milk, and a scoop of some kind of red powder. He excused himself to the back room and returned carrying a fistful of what looked a bit like cranberries, only they were a deep, inky black. "What are those?", asked Henry warily. Max just shrugged impishly and winked. "Mystery ingredient." With the press of a button, the berries were obliterated into tiny bits swirling through the frothy liquid. After thirty seconds, Max poured the results into a cup and handed it to Henry, who took a cautious sip. He definitely recognized the enticing tingle he had experienced from the previous day's sample, but also detected something extra, something intoxicating that seemed to go straight to his head. The mystery ingredient, no doubt, as he'd never gotten that kind of ecstatic rush from a peach before. Henry nodded his approval and pulled out his wallet. "Delicious! How much do I owe you?" "That'll be ten dollars today." Henry had no idea that the key word in that sentence was "today". Max's rates for his smoothies were notorious fluid, varying from customer to customer, but he knew to start out low with a newcomer. As their need for the stuff grew more urgent, prices had a curious tendency to skyrocket. Henry didn't flinch at the price, although his tightfisted nature showed itself with the twenty-five cent piece he dropped in Max's tip jar. Max just smiled politely and said, "Thank you," knowing that Henry would soon be coughing up the Benjamins once his craving for the boost became sufficiently desperate. Jay ordered a double-boosted Banana-Rama Ding-Dong, which Max happily put on Jay's account. Henry was relieved that the locker room was empty as he changed into his workout clothes. He tugged at the hem of his extra-large t-shirt, embarrassed that it failed to cover the entirety of his gut, and he hastily wiggled his pale, pudgy legs into his sweatpants. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Jay pulling on a newly-purchased, form-fitting sleeveless tee which left no question about how toned every inch of his upper body had become. Stripping off his jeans, Jay revealed a surprisingly hefty cock, flopping freely in the absence of underwear. He shimmied a pair of compression shorts over his thickly muscled thighs and stuffed his dong inside. Studying himself admiringly in the mirror, Jay twisted his body in an amateur's approximation of warm-up stretches. "Ready, Henry?", he asked with a sparkle in his eyes. Until this recent metamorphosis, Henry had always assumed that Jay was straight, but the young man was now sending off a barrage of signals that even the ordinarily gay-blind Henry could detect. Diane frequently teased Henry about his adorably naive shock whenever some "OB-viously" gay movie star would come out of the closet. Henry always figured he just wasn't hip enough to pick up the signs. Besides, as an overweight middle-aged office manager, he didn't figure he was in much danger of finding himself on the receiving end of unwanted advances from Doogie Howser any time soon. Henry and Jay began their workouts on side-by-side treadmills. "Just start off slow and find your pace. Don't worry about keeping up with me," Jay advised, the voice of several days' experience. "Not much chance of that," Henry chuckled with self-deprecation as he struggled to figure out the control panel. He hadn't seriously jogged since sometime in college, so he was anticipating nothing more than a leisurely stroll, but as he gradually picked up speed, so did the boost surging in his veins. As his feet thudded on the conveyor belt, his belly and man-boobs jiggled like cranberry sauce with each step. He watched enviously as Jay's long legs whipped back and forth, his blindingly-white Nikes making only brief contact with the treadmill during each stride. Henry focused his energies and chugged onward, mentally setting himself the seemingly impossible goal of someday being able to keep up with the kid. After a blistering thirty-minute dash during which he had become lost in the techno music flowing through his earbuds, Jay cooled down to a trot. He had glanced over periodically to check on Henry's progress, impressed that the old guy had stuck it out so long. Grimacing with determination, Henry was still lumbering along, his cheap t-shirt clinging to his skin, rendered nearly transparent by the sweat pumping from his pores. "Great job, Henry! You've definitely earned a shower." Henry panted and shook his head, splattering the treadmill console with a cloudburst of perspiration. "I'm gonna...keep going...some more," he blurted out between gasps for air. "You done plenty, man. You don't hafta prove anything to me," Jay said reassuringly. "It's...not...for...you," Henry panted, pointing his thumb toward his chest. Jay was impressed by Henry's commitment, and even more awestruck by the powerful properties of the boost that could be giving Henry such endurance. He strolled over to the juice bar to inform Max of Henry's stick-to-it-ive-ness. "Not surprised," Max said softly. "He's got a lot of youthful energy to keep him going." Jay wasn't as quick a thinker as he used to be, but he caught Max's implication. "What, you mean the berries? Why, what do they do?" Max just stared into the distance, with no intention of explaining further. Jay grew pissed. "You mean you got somethin' good and you're holdin' out on me? How come?" Max muttered so only Jay could hear him. "Because you don't need it. Your buddy Henry's got two decades of road miles on him that you don't. So unless you have a desperate urge to return to your glory days of being a five-year-old, you'll steer clear of the berries." That stern warning was enough to make Jay back off. He was too in love with his body and his life to mess with anything dangerous. Except for more of the boost, of course. Jay ordered a Strawberry Chia Forever with a single boost, just enough to recharge him up for a session of pumping iron in the free-weight pit. Jay swelled with pride as he watched his protruding veins snake across his buff arms while he did curls. Seeing his massive quads stretch the elasticity of his clinging shorts, he knew that his devotion to leg crunches was paying off. In the dim chronology of his boost-warped mind, he took it for granted that he'd been perfecting his body as a gym rat for years and would have howled with laughter if anyone had informed him that he had been thin as a twig just four days ago. Although not everyone at the gym was on the boost, those who were lived in a strictly A.B. world -- After Boost. It was as if their lives before encountering the miracle powder had never happened or were, at best, a faint memory from long ago, quite literally another life. They had quit their jobs, they had drifted away from family and loved ones, and they defined themselves not by who they had been but by what they had become. After an hour of heavy lifting alongside his ripped buddy Flat-Top, Jay grew curious about Henry. He couldn't believe that Henry would have left without at least swinging by to thank Jay. To Jay's surprise, Henry was still plowing forward on that same treadmill. He even seemed to have gained steam, moving more briskly than before, mopping his abundant sweat with a soaked towel. Jay brought over a fresh towel and a bottled water, which Henry took appreciatively without slowing his pace. "Jeez, man, take a break. It's not like you hafta get in shape TODAY!", Jay said, although that appeared to be exactly what was happening. Henry was still husky but had easily sweated off fifteen pounds, and his eyes burned with determination to keep the process going. He even looked a bit younger, although Jay figured that was just the natural result of dropping some weight. Still, seeing such marked and immediate improvements in Henry bolstered Jay's enthusiasm for going out and drumming up more customers for the gym. Jay suggested to Flat-Top that they hit the beach and search for potential new recruits. Flat-Top didn't need much convincing. When he wasn't perfecting his physique at the gym, Flat-Top loved nothing more than hitting the sand, catching some rays, strutting his stuff, and ogling some Speedos. Jay urged Henry to take it easy, then headed to the showers with Flat-Top. When Henry finally did tucker out, he wobbled to the juice bar, smiled victoriously at Max, and promptly passed out, crumpling into a heap on the floor. Max rushed from behind the counter and knelt down to check for a heartbeat, relieved to hear it kathumping along at a healthy rate. He roused Henry back to consciousness and gave him some water to sip. Max chided Henry for overexerting himself, even though Max knew full well that Henry would have been nearly powerless to resist the boost-and-berry-driven imperative to push himself further. Once he felt rejuvenated and rehydrated, Henry shuffled to the locker room and slowly peeled away his sopping t-shirt, revealing the magnitude of what his mini-marathon had accomplished. His gut had receded to more of a paunch, and his arms had lost some of their gelatinous qualities. He was a long way from being beefcake, but if this was what he could expect from a single workout, tomorrow could not arrive soon enough. He wished Jay still worked for him so he could give him a promotion just for introducing him to this place. He'd have to find some other way to show his appreciation. It was mid-morning, and Henry could not face the prospect of a boring day trapped at the office. He called in sick for the first time in years, liberated by a sudden sense of freedom. He headed home and busied himself with all of the repair jobs his wife had been urging to take care of for months or, in some cases, years. After a productive afternoon during which his energy remained sky high, Henry luxuriated in a long hot shower, invigorated by the droplets pelting his skin. His cock chubbed up as he lathered himself thoroughly, but he didn't want to squander a good erection. It would only be fair to save himself for Diane. He pulled on his favorite Hawaiian shirt, amazed by how loosely it hung on his frame, and was able to squeeze into a pair of Dockers he had outgrown three years earlier. Diane immediately knew something was strange when she pulled into the driveway and saw Henry's car, as he had not arrived home from work before her in at least a decade. As she entered, she was greeted by unexpected aromas from the kitchen, where Henry was busy preparing spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread, one of the few meals he had ever learned to cook on his own. She stood in the doorway, silent and wide-eyed, as her husband bounded excitedly around the room, boisterously singing "That's Amore", humming to fill in the gaps for the lyrics he couldn't remember (which was pretty much everything other than "That's Amore"). Finally noticing his wife's arrival, Henry dashed across the room to plant a tomato-and-basil-flavored kiss on her lips. "Hello, honey," he sang in place of "That's Amore", and danced back to the stove to resume stirring the sauce. Diane was so stunned by his uncharacteristic exuberance that his weight loss didn't even register. She just knew something was different. "What has gotten into you, Henry?", she asked, but Henry just smiled and kept on sing-humming. She walked over to help him, but he poured her a glass of Chianti and demanded that she take a load off and relax while he finished fixing dinner. During a leisurely meal, Diane told anecdotes of her taxing day and Henry vaguely described his, telling her little more than that he felt "marvelous" and "like a kid again". The more she looked at him across the table, she could swear it looked like he had lost weight, but she had been on enough diets over the years to know it was impossible to drop more than a handful of pounds of water weight in a day. She figured his fresh appearance must just a pleasant byproduct of his unaccountably chipper attitude. Whatever had caused this boost in Henry's mood, she wasn't about to complain. Uncorking a second bottle, Henry insisted that they leave the dirty dishes until the morning and maneuvered Diane to the sofa for some heavy petting. He was friskier than he had been the night before, and had no concerns about his energy plummeting, but as he nuzzled his wife's neck, something felt off. Much as he wanted to please Diane, his dick was staying soft. On top of that, unfamiliar thoughts began to assault Henry's mind. Images flashed and then vanished, at first so brief that he couldn't identify them, but they were distracting enough that Diane could sense his concentration waning. "What's the matter, honey?", she asked. "Nothing," Henry assured her, although he was not so certain. As he held Diane's face in his hands and closed his eyes to kiss her, a single image finally gelled in Henry's mind. It was Jay in all of his newly-buffed splendor. Standing completely naked in the locker room. With an eight-inch erection. Pointing straight in Henry's direction. Henry was shaken by this vision. He was even more unnerved by the realization that his penis, flaccid until that moment, had sprung to life, stiffening inside his boxers. "Oh, Henry!", Diane gasped as she felt his hardness press against her thigh. Early on, Max had insisted on being up front with his customers about the radical changes that the boost would impose on their brain and their hormones. It was never an issue with his gay clients, as the boost only intensified their pre-existing preferences and markedly heightened their erotic pleasure, but he had felt morally obliged to alert straight men that the boost would permanently reconfigure their sexual orientation. Max's boss had frowned upon this level of honesty, not wanting to cut off potentially lucrative sources of revenue. In the end, Max had realized that giving the warning was ultimately pointless. Even those who strenuously objected and put up some kind of struggle against their newfound desires would inevitably surrender, their overwhelming craving for the benefits of the boost proving far more powerful than even the most virulent homophobia. Max himself had been something of a bullying asshole toward two teammates on his college swim team whom he had learned were gay, although his attitude evolved quickly once they began to supply him with the red powder that they promised would do wonders for his performance. Now, all these years later, Max had only the faintest of memories of having once been attracted to women, while the teammates who had been the targets of his abuse were now two of his oldest and dearest friends. Max had no idea why the boost made its straight users gay and its gay users gayer, although he suspected the surge in testosterone that it caused was at least somewhat responsible. He did know that the triggering event for the irrevocable transition was invariably the same: one's first post-boost orgasm. Henry's mind mounted some resistance as his brain was flooded with more thoughts of Jay and Max and the other shredded specimens who had surrounded him at the gym, his visions fragmenting into isolated close-ups of straining biceps and striated quads and ripe ass-cheeks and upward-arching cocks. There was still a tangible allure to Diane's warm body pressed against his, still a nostalgic familiarity to the scent of White Diamonds perfume on her skin, and he knew he was still intellectually in love with this woman with whom he had shared the past quarter-century, but these intrusive thoughts had become too persistent -- and too arousing -- to ignore. Once he stopped fighting them, he ejaculated immediately, pumping dollop after dollop of thick, warm cream into his undershorts. The energy swiftly ebbed from Henry's body and he collapsed on top of Diane, the events of the day finally taking their toll. Diane squirmed out from under her bulky husband, sighing with disappointment at the speed with which their romantic evening had come to an end, although it was far from unprecedented. As Henry began to snore, Diane adjusted him on the couch so he would be more comfortable, tucking a comforter around him and bringing out his sleep apnea machine. The spark may have left their relationship long ago, but she still doted on the big lug. Meanwhile, as Henry slept, the boost set about reordering his priorities. * * * Jay moseyed into the gym around ten the next morning, mirrored sunglasses shielding his eyes from bright light. He and Flat-Top had spent a productive day of recruiting at the beach, their exposed physiques providing ample evidence of the gym's benefits. They had lured in over a dozen new prospects with the promise of a free workout and a sample smoothie. Jay knew at least two of them would be arriving in a short while, as soon as they and Flat-Top finished showering together back at Flat-Top's condo. Jay had been invited to join them, but he had already fucked himself raw the night before and was desperately in need of a boost. Jay had no idea how much alcohol he had consumed the night before. His improved metabolism meant that a great quantity of booze was required to achieve even a slight buzz, so he must have downed a couple bottles of tequila to end up as blotto as he had become. Dim memories of dim nightclubs filtered through his head. He could recall flashes of colored light and the cool sensation of dry-ice fog against his shirtless torso. He remembered feasting his eyes on a buffet of delectable dudes, and being the object of innumerable devouring stares and roaming hands. The two twinks who had accompanied them back to Flat-Top's place came back to him as little more than nimble blond and ginger blurs, but he knew the four of them had stayed busy most of the night as Flat-Top taught Jay the joys of versatility. Jay had awoken this morning wracked with unfamiliar aches, feeling as if every orifice had been stretched beyond its intended limits. Since he had started on the boost, Jay had never waited as late as ten o'clock to get his morning jolt, and its absence in his body was killing him. His colossal hangover was merely miserable icing on the agony cake. His energy had dwindled precipitously, his impressive bulk had softened noticeably, and his extremities were riddled with the pinprick sensations that preceded numbness. Desperate for his fix, Jay staggered the final twenty feet toward the juice bar before flopping onto the counter, spread-eagled as he begged Max, "Blueberry Bonanza. And make it a triple." Max felt a twinge of guilt as he saw Jay so strung out, but he also knew there was only one remedy that would satisfy him. Max chastised Jay, "As happy as I am to see you shed your inhibitions, we do have health codes around here." He shooed Jay off the counter and whipped up the drink in record time. Jay guzzled it down greedily, purple trickles leaking from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. Jay's spirits revived, he filled in Max on the previous day's recruiting successes, but he found his attention drifting toward the gym floor, where a dark-eyed young stud in a black tank top and knee-length black shorts was scoping out his surroundings. He had thickly muscled arms and a broad chest, but slimmed down to an enviably narrow waist and the lean, perfectly toned legs of a disciplined runner. His jaw and cheekbones were precision sculpted, and a wild, undisciplined thatch of chocolate-brown hair jutted over his forehead before curling back like a breaking wave off Malibu. Jay figured he had to be a newbie, because there was no way this guy could have escaped Jay's notice. Even before the boost had altered his predilections, Jay would have fixated on this guy out of pure envy. To Jay's amazement, the kid's face lit up the moment he spotted Jay. As he sauntered coolly toward the juice bar, all of the sexual confidence Jay had gained from the previous night's conquests faded into anxiety as he fretted over what he could possibly say to this adonis. "Jaaaaaay!", shouted the young man, beaming as he rushed over. He wrapped his python arms tight around Jay and easily hoisted the considerably heavier man off his feet. Jay shot a baffled glance at Max, who was stifling a chuckle. "I don't blame you, boy," crowed the young man. "I don't recognize me either!" The voice was instantly recognizable, but bubbling with an unfamiliar zest for life. The tan Jay had gained from his day at the beach blanched instantaneously as his brain grappled with the realization that the lanky hunk squeezing the breath out of him had emerged from the great white whale that was Henry. Even after witnessing Henry's treadmill endurance test, Jay could never have imagined that Henry's lump of coal could have been refined into such a diamond. Could such immaculate bone structure really have been lurking beneath Henry's jowls and wrinkles all along? How had the sparse shrubbery on Henry's head sprouted so spectacularly overnight? Jay's own boosted body seemed like a minor overhaul when compared to how Henry had been super-remodeled into a supermodel. Henry lowered Jay back down to the floor, then spun around so Jay could get a complete look at his wide v-shaped back, his buoyant butt, his firm, wrinkle-free skin. "Can you believe this shit?", he asked, yanking on his unwieldy mop of hair, giggling with delight when it remained attached to his scalp. "I feel like a kid again, but I never looked half this good when I was young. Isn't it a-fucking-mazing?" Words were eluding Jay. All that emerged from his mouth was one long "Uhhhhhh...", but it still managed to convey his approval. As Henry slept, his body had undergone extensive renovations. When he awoke to this phenomenal discovery, he made his way quietly out of the house, careful not to wake Diane, and drove directly to the gym. Max prepared him a smoothie with a double boost and two handfuls of berries, for the reasonable price of thirty dollars, which Henry paid without blinking an eye. Once the smoothie got into his system and he began to exercise, Henry's improvements had only become more and more refined. "I've been here since five a.m., and every time I check myself the mirror, I look better. It's like watching Michelangelo carving David out of an ugly chunk of marble. Only I was the ugly chunk of marble. And now, I'm David!" Jay's head was swimming, only in part because he no longer knew who Michelangelo was. "Hey, what do you think about David?", Henry asked excitedly, conducting a quick poll of Jay and Max. "Think about him for what?", Jay asked. "For a name. For me. I sure as shit don't feel like a Henry any more, and I sure as fuck don't look like one." "I dunno," Max chimed in. "You ever seen that Henry Cavill?" Max wolf-whistled and his eyebrows leapt. "Naaah, Henry's an old man name," Henry insisted with a dismissive wave of his hands. "I feel like a David now." Jay was still grappling with the whole situation. "So you're just gonna go into work looking like this, and tell 'em to start calling you David?" Henry burst out laughing, the picture of youthful rebellion. "Fuck that. I'm not going back to that shithole. If I spent one more second cooped up behind that desk, I think I'd fucking die. No, man, I'm following your example. THIS is my life now!" He spread out his arms, his mighty wingspan stretching wide to indicate the whole gym. His eyes gleamed with enthusiasm for his future. "All those years of slaving away, stashing away my money for a rainy day. Well, it's finally raining, honey, and..." He broke into song, "It's raining men! Hallelujah!" He spun Jay around in a few sloppily improvised dance moves, effectively disproving the cliche that homosexuality correlates directly with a knack for choreography. Jay backed away, feeling personally responsible for how radically Henry had changed. "So if you're not going to work, what ARE you gonna do now?" "Now? You mean, like right now? Well, I got at least one idea." With that, he stared seductively into Jay's eyes. Jay had never realized that Henry's eyes were so mesmerizing, so deep and dark, especially at the office where he kept them imprisoned behind glasses that, from all appearances, he no longer needed. Jay felt unable to look away. Without taking his eyes off Jay, Henry asked, "Hey, Max, can Jay and I use your back room for a bit?" Max expressed amused annoyance. "You want to have sex behind the juice bar? What is it that you guys don't grasp about health codes? Go find yourselves someplace more fuck-friendly." "Well, we could go get a room somewhere," David said with a grin. "I just wasn't sure Jay could wait that long." "Huh? What?", Jay said, suddenly aware that his rigid cock was straining inside his compression shorts, stretching so far down the right leg that the head was in danger of poking its way to freedom. When he looked back up, Jay's conflicting emotions over what had happened to Henry were swept away, replaced by a single crystal-clear thought. "Fuck me, David."
  6. dhalden

    Charlie

    Hey, guys. It's been a long while, but I'm finally making good on my promise and rebooting my story from the previous site, "Charlie". Things have slowed down in my life, I've got a new creative fire, and I'm ready to jump back into this story. You might notice some differences from the original and you'd be right; I'm re-editing as I go. Changing some things around plot-wise, etc. Boring writer stuff. Just enjoy! * * * Friday night and my only company was the cold beer sweating beside my open laptop and a stack of my students’ essays, ripe for grading. Such was the life of the English major who had decided to return to his hometown to teach high school instead of moving on to bigger and better things. If you think that reading the half-assed efforts of students trying to argue that Holden Caulfield was anything more than an egocentric little shit was my preferred way of entering the weekend, you’re wrong. Yes, even I, Andrew Donovan, Senior English teacher of West Cape High, wished his life different. I would never have guessed that that little wish would begin to be fulfilled in the form of an email, but as I slashed across yet another essay with my trusty red marker, I heard the gentle ping on my laptop signaling that a new message had just dropped into my inbox. Sighing, I capped the marker and tossed it aside. Another late assignment, I thought. Number three of the night. Can you say ten points off? Which wasn’t exactly fair, considering I’d promised to return them two days before, but that was one of the small joys of being a teacher: minor omnipotence. It was the subject heading that caught my attention first: “Long Time, No See!” When I’d begun teaching, I had gone into it envisioning that I would be one of those few educational greats who ends up getting a Lifetime movie made about them. As part of that image, I had taken to giving out my personal email address to my students because it made me “seem more relatable”. In the end that proved fruitless because they used it only to turn in late assignments or ask for the reading they had been too lazy to copy down. I clicked open the email and, well…have you ever had your stomach plummet and your heart skip a beat at the same time? It’s not a pleasant feeling, let me tell you, but such was the sensation that gripped me as I read the first sentence of that fateful email. So I must have started this email about thirty times in thirty different ways and I can’t think of what to say, so I’ll just say—hey, its Charlie Greene! I’m in town for business. Are you free for lunch tomorrow? I’d love to catch up. Let me know! I stared flabbergasted at the screen. When I finally realized that my mouth was literally hanging open, I reached for my beer and downed the rest of it. And then I went for a second. When I finally began to feel the alcohol permeate, I flexed my fingers and let them drop to the keyboard. I must have tried a dozen variations of the same reply before I settled on the briefest. Before I could stop myself I hit the return key, irrevocably sending my reply out into the digital abyss. I sighed and sat back in my chair…and realized I was rock hard. All eight inches of my cock throbbed in my boxers, begging for attention. I swiftly reached for my pulsing shaft and gasped at the sensation. It was incredibly sensitive to the touch and twitched eagerly as I wrapped my around it. I haven’t been this hard in years, I thought. Slowly, I eased my hand down my rigid dick and instantly felt my balls tighten and draw close to my body. It’s like I’m teenager again or something. This isn’t going to last long. And it didn’t. As the first shot of cum splattered across my chest, I lost my breath and jerked in my chair, my toes curling into the carpet as the second, third, and fourth spurts followed. “Holy shit,” I panted when I’d finally finished. “Holy shit…” I couldn’t remember that last time I had had such a fulfilling jerkoff session. At thirty-five, I usually only gave my cock a quick jerk and tug, rolled over, and fell asleep. But as I sat there panting, I stared down at my cock: it was still half-hard and it instantly responded to a second round of my coaxing, lengthening to its full potential. Every rigid vein pulsated as I jerked my cock and I could feel my balls swelling for a second load. A minute later three three long ropes of cum splattering onto my already covered chest. “Oh, fuck…” I groaned, collapsing backwards in my chair. Dazed, I plucked some Kleenex from the box beside my printer and started cleaning cum off my chest. I haven’t shot back-to-back like this since I can’t remember when. I wonder if I could go for a third time? “I don’t think so,” I answered to no one in particular. As fantastic as the orgasms had been, the usual exhaustion that followed them was already settling in. I had just wiped off the last of jizz from my right nipple when my laptop pinged again. I hurriedly tossed the cum-soaked tissue into the garbage and opened my inbox. His simple reply read: Awesome. See you Saturday! * * * For you to understand the whole wonderful chaos of what would end up happening, you have to understand the complicated history that Charlie and I shared. The obligatory backstory, if you will. The short version sounds something like: we were nineteen when we met in the latter half of our freshmen year at college. I was an English major from California, he was a business/communications double-major from Indiana. We met when we were assigned as partners in a shared Bio lab and such was the not-so-glamorous joining of our two lives. By sophomore year we were roommates. That’s the short, clean, “boy meets boy” part of the story. The “boy loses boy” part comes later. The morning I was supposed to meet Charlie—the man who would become a veritable legend and forever change my life along the way—I went up to my attic and rifled through some boxes. “Here it is,” I grumbled as I heaved a marked COLLEGE SHIT from a dusty corner. Carrying it into the middle of the floor, I began pulling out its contents: old essays and portfolios, a foam finger from some long-forgotten sporting event, my diploma, and an assortment of other once-valued memorabilia that I could just as easily do without. Beneath it all, however, was a stack of photographs held together by a rubber band. From the top photograph, Charlie’s beaming face stared back at me. The same disarming grin that had sent butterflies frantically buzzing through my stomach nearly sixteen years ago had not lost its effect. If anything, it was more potent and infectious. I felt a grin of my own spread across my lips as I plucked the photograph from the pile and examined it closer: his clear green eyes, and short, sun-kissed blond hair...and that beautiful fucking smile. It was a politician’s smile, fake as all hell, but undeniably handsome. It would throw you on your metaphorical ass if you weren’t prepared for it and I hardly ever was. I flicked through the rest of the photographs. Charlie and I (looking pathetically sub-par beside him in my oversized leather jacket that I had once inexplicably thought made me look suave) standing in front of our dorm. Charlie in his soccer uniform, sweaty and grass-stained. Charlie with his arm around me at one of the countless house parties he had dragged me to some weekend. Nearly every photograph was either of Charlie or Charlie and myself somewhere on campus. Surely there are photos of other things? Other people, right? As I reached for the box again, I glanced out the dusty window. The sun was already high in the sky, easily nearing noon. Nearing lunchtime. “Shit!” I hissed. Only an hour until I was supposed to meet Charlie and I still needed to shower. Mentally kicking myself, I scrambled downstairs and hurried into the bathroom for a shower. Suds still not entirely rinsed from my hair, I reached for a towel and began drying off when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. Where in the hell did that guy come from? Sure, I hadn’t actively worked out in a few months (okay, at least a year), but the slight paunch of fat around my middle seemed a little unfair. And my chest, when had that happened? I’d never sported an enormous chest, but it had at least been defined. But now…now my pecs were just downright sad. Starting to droop even. “Real impressive, Andrew,” I said flatly. Despite the fact that it was easily eighty degrees outside, I donned a jacket in hopes of hiding my softening torso and tried to at least find comfort in the fact that I was not yet balding. In my reply, I had suggested Applebees, an old favorite of mine, but as I stepped through the door that fateful day, I began to regret it. In a town like West Cape, there aren’t many places to socialize and Applebees was one of the most common amongst my students. I fretted at the thought of seeing them there and did a quick scan. With no familiar faces in sight, I followed the hostess to a table and quickly dropped into a seat. The table wouldn’t hide much in the way of my inescapably middle-aged body, but it would tuck my enormous erection out of sight. The anticipation of seeing Charlie again after so long had made me hard again. I desperately wanted to duck into the bathroom and jerk off until I couldn’t move, but that didn’t exactly seem a feasible option. “I’ll have a Coke,” I told the hostess nervously. “And the second party? Do you know what they’d like?” she asked. “Water, I guess,” I said, perhaps a little too pathetically. The hostess’ grin faltered as she slipped away to fetch out drinks. I trained my eyes on the door. I wonder what he looks like now. Why the hell don’t I have a Facebook? I could have just looked him up. Idiot. He’s probably even more handsome. Better with age. Like a fine wine. God, I should’ve ordered something stronger… Every time the door opened, I straightened in my seat, but each time it was an elderly couple, some housewife and her friend, or a pair of students that I vaguely recognized. It isn’t like wasn’t common knowledge throughout West Cape that I was gay (news like that travels fast in a small town), but it was nonetheless awkward to see them out and about when I was on a date. This isn’t a date though, Romeo. It’s a lunch. Keep that line of thinking at bay. It got you into major trouble last time, remember? Last time. How could I forget? The door opened again, but I was hardly paying attention. I had slipped lost into one of the most mortifying memories of my life. A cool spring night my senior year of college, standing in front of a frat house, some 90’s indie rock song blasting from a stereo through an open window, empty beer cans and Solo cups littering the front lawn… “Andy?” “Hmm?” I said, expecting the waitress. I turned...and my mouth fell open. To say my heart skipped a beat would be an understatement. Leaped would be a more accurate description. Jumped. Dove. Take your pick. They’re all relatively inadequate. I believe my heart may have altogether stopped, if only for the briefest second, which technically means I died for a second. “Charlie,” I breathed. The first thing I noticed was that grin. That impossibly fucking brilliant grin. Dazzlingly white and wide, his smile was perfectly blinding. It was spread across the face that time had ostensibly forgotten. Whereas the first of middle age’s wrinkles had already begun to form at the corner of my eyes, there wasn’t the slightest hint of one on that flawless face. Not that anyone would have cared if there were. The rest of him absolutely demanded further examination. Although I wouldn’t have thought it possible, my eyes were torn from that grin and drawn to the rest of him…starting with his shoulders. Where had the slim, wiry soccer star that I known gone? The shoulders of the man standing before me were wider than I had ever seen them. They weren’t massive, but they were large and sculpted enough to force his red polo shirt to fit him snugly as a glove. They firmly capped a pair of arms that were easily doubly thick around as my calves and which strained the sleeves of his shirt in a way that made my already hard cock impossibly harder. I could not help but note the veins that snaked their way around his forearms, feint though they might have been. “It is you,” he said, dropping into his chair. “I thought so. I couldn’t tell at first. You look different!” “You…you too,” I said breathlessly. “H-How you been?” He grinned. “I’m great! Sorry I’m late. I got a little lost. Did you already order?” I must have answered, but I don’t remember. I watched in a daze as he scanned the menu, his thick arms swelling larger and straining his sleeves further as he bent them to pick up the menu. They had to have been at least eighteen inches, probably larger. I wouldn’t know; I had only ever dreamt of arms that large. I kept envisioning how they’d feel beneath my fingers. “I think I’ll get the steak. What’re you getting?” he wondered aloud. “I, uh, steak, yeah,” I stammered. “Great!” he said, folding up the menu, and flashing that grin again. My cock grew painfully stiffer. I was visibly stunned by him and kept glancing out the window so as not to appear too obviously awed, but our waitress was less coy. I heard a soft gasp escape her lips at the sight of Charlie as she approached. “So that’ll be two steaks, medium?” she said after he had ordered, never taking her eyes off him. “Sounds right to me,” he said and winked at her. Girl, I feel sorry for your ovaries. They must be on fire, I thought instantly. I know I am. I reached for my water and began sipping it ferociously. “So you’re probably wondering what’s up with me, right?” he said, placing his hands on the table. They were so much thicker than the last time I had seen them, the hands of a man who had labored long hours in the gym. Cords of muscle stood out in his forearms. Not at all the hands a soccer player. I wondered what sort of strength such hands possessed and wanted to know, good or bad, for myself. “Yes,” I said. Drop the monosyllabics, you sound like a cave man. “Yes, I am wondering what you are up to, yes.” “Well,” he started to say, and paused dramatically. It was nice to see that not quite everything had changed about him, though the obvious transformations certainly weren’t unwelcome. “I’m moving to West Cape! Well, West Cape-adjacent. I got a transferred last month and now I have to relocate, man. Can you believe that?” I reminded myself not to give a one word answer. “I can’t, no. W-What do you do?” I couldn’t have cared less what he did, honestly. I just wanted to hear him speak. In addition to the underwear model’s physique he had developed since we had graduated, his voice had dropped half an octave. It probably wasn’t obvious to everyone, but I could still vividly remember the long nights we had stayed up talking about everything under the sun and, to me, it was definitely deeper. Did that come with the territory of packing on forty or fifty pounds of muscle? Did the weight of those clearly ample pecs beneath his shirt weigh on his ribcage? Even as I watched, one of them twitched, sending a tiny ripple of movement across his shirt. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “Client relations, mostly. I won’t bother you with the gory details. So you’re an English teacher now?” I wondered fleetingly for a moment how he knew. I didn’t realize it then, but that necessarily meant that he had done some digital digging for my contact information. My being listed on West Cape High’s faculty page wasn’t the sort of thing that popped up on the first page of Google results, if you catch my drift. Nevertheless, I blathered on for a while about my teaching duties, before asking, “So where’re you living? The east side of town?” The smile dropped from his face and the light behind those green eyes dimmed. He turned and stared out the window, biting his lip. It would have been sexy as hell (okay, it was sexy as hell) if anxiety didn’t look so unnatural on his face. He turned back to me. “I actually don’t have a place yet,” he said. “I’m still looking, you know?” And before I could stop myself, before I could fully formulate the thought in my mind and factor in the countless possibilities and repercussions that could and ultimately would result from such a simple, stupid and unguarded statement, I said, “You could stay with me.”
  7. FREaky

    Abduction - Part Three

    Abduction Part Three by F_R_Eaky Part One: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/8794-abduction-part-one-by-f_r_eaky/ Part Two: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/9036-abduction-part-two/ After Julian's growth it became quiet in the weird, alien operating room, and both Julian and Terry drifted in and out of sleep and consciousness. Eventually a couple of the short, pasty, large black-eyed aliens came and stood next to them, poking, prodding, taking stats down. But for some reason, this time, Julian and Terry could hear them. Could hear their thoughts as they were speaking to one another. "Has it been decided?" "Yes, these two, now, are large enough to make excellent drones for the home world. After we have initiated their proper growth pattern, they will make some of the best and strongest drones we have ever had." "Do we start the sequence now?" "No. They will be a bit too large for transport at the time. It is preferable to keep them this size and have them grow there." "When is their transportation?" "They are to be loaded now." "Initiating paralytic serum." Suddenly Julian and Terry felt something icy cold run through their veins and they realized their bodies became quite stiff and rigid. Scared they could feel their pulse and heart rates quicken. They could hear the beat of their heart in their heads. They were to be taken away from Earth. They would probably never see their families again and they were going to be slaves to these alien beings. The two lie there in terror, wishing they could at least turn their heads to look at one another. The aliens stepped away from the pair and the bright overhead lights dimmed leaving only side light to filter into the room from off branching corridors. "Drone Three-five-seven-one, load these two onto shuttle craft Beta-Beta immediately. Starship Beta-ap-Alpha is due to leave momentarily for the home world and these two are scheduled to go with it to become drones. Bieg Greevlix will be leaving this Bieg ship and transfer over to the transport ship to watch over these two and other prospects. As such he will fly the shuttle and its contents over. You are to accompany him." A very powerful drone, standing seven feet tall with a powerful strongman or power lifter like frame, turned his honey-gold haired head towards the alien and silently, stoically bowed at the waist and proceeded to punch some keys on the tables Julian and Terry lied upon. Once that was done he hit a side button, where upon the sound of releasing gas was heard and the table's base seemed to disappear. With that the drone pushed the table down the corridor and onto an awaiting mini ship in the shuttle bay. Once he had both Julian and Terry he punched some more buttons on the table and then on a side panel in the shuttle before fingering a small pad and then sitting down on a bench in the back and staring straight ahead. Shortly thereafter Bieg Greevlix showed up, coming through the back hatch, stopping to look at Julian and Terry. "Yes...yes... these will make some excellent workers for the home world. Is everything listed and prepared for departure, drone?" The giant man turned his head somberly and dazed like towards the alien and nodded an affirmative. "Good. Bieg Greevlix to Commander Heenah. I am aboard the shuttle and shall proceed with departure." "As ordered. Proceed Bieg Greevlix. Enjoy the return to the home world." "Computer initiate lift off procedure." There were some beeps from the computer and then suddenly the drone stood up and gave a chop like blow to the neck and head of the alien. He in turn immediately went unconscious and collapsed to the floor. Quickly the drone opened the side singular door to the shuttle, which was on the opposite side of any control center, and dropped Bieg Greevlix off onto the shuttle bay floor. Then, per Greevlix's previous commands, the shuttle began to rise up off the floor and slowly proceed towards the bay doors. Slowly the doors opened, but once the shuttle had reached that space midway of leaving the ship, one of the doors suddenly snapped back to the shut position striking the shuttle craft from the side abruptly. There was but a moment before there was a beep at the console and a voice was heard. "Bieg Greevlix, that impact was a sudden malfunction in the shuttle bay doors. You have continued to drift out, are you and your systems functioning." The giant brute stood up and approached the console. "This is Drone Three-five-seven-one. Bieg Greevlix was thrown from his seat and has struck his head. He is unconscious but appropriately stable. All shuttle and new drone transport mechanisms are functioning normally. The new prospective drones are perfectly fine and still in the transport mechanisms. I shall continue the short flight to Starship Beta-ap-Alpha, dock, and then have Bieg Greevlix looked at by medical personnel." "As it should be. Proceed shuttle craft Beta-Beta. Bieg Ship, Terra Delta out." "Confirmed. Shuttle Craft, Beta-Beta out. Computer, initiate flight sequence Four-Twenty Nine Terra." Those words spoken, the hefty drone stood up and went back to where Julian and Terry lay and actually spoke verbally. "Sorry, gentlemen. You will be not going to the home-world today. I am taking you someplace else. I will apologize for the ride, it is going to be a fast and turbulent one. Should you feel sensation return to your bodies grip the sides of the table as tightly as you can." After a few more taps and beeps on the table he quickly moved back to the cockpit seat. The shuttle craft, once near the Star Ship Beta-ap-Alpha, suddenly pivoted and warped out from underneath it, heading straight for another star ship that was in a lower orbit than Beta-ap-Alpha was. Going underneath that ship, it then came out from under and struck the Earth's atmosphere. It took a few moments before anyone of command structure realized what was happening, and by the time they went to give orders, the tractor beams were bouncing off of the secondary star ship, and then the shuttle craft was lost in the Earth's atmosphere. Any attempt to retrieve Julian, Terry, and the Drone was now going to be done via shuttle craft to shuttle craft, or risk informing the Globe of their presence. Upon hitting the atmosphere, Drone Three-five-seven-one walked over to the tables Julian and Terry were on and started madly poking buttons in a furious sequence. "Initiating infusion of proper growth sequence now." Suddenly Julian and Terry felt as though a warm liquid was not only being pushed through their veins, but poured over their entire bodies. They felt flushed, they felt powerful, they felt aroused and growing into a extreme sense of horniness. Suddenly their proud masts of eleven and three-fourths inches was standing straight and tall from their groins and there wasn't anything either of the two men could do about it. As the shuttle continued its decent, the Drone pulled out more clothing like his and began to dress both Julian and Terry in them. Around the time he got shoes that managed to fit them on, the shuttle's speed slowed down, the craft came to hover over a spot, and make then make a landing. Helping the two to sit up. "Gentlemen, I wish I could help you acclimate yourselves to walking again, but we don't have enough time. You must relearn to walk by yourselves while I get our next mode of transportation. Computer, open back hatch, followed by releasing gases to mask energy trail, followed by going into cloaked mode." After giving the orders, the buff drone walked out of the hatch doors and towards a large thicket on the side of a small field the shuttle had landed in. As he began to clear away some of the bush, Julian and Terry began to stand up. First Julian kind of slid off the table landing on his two feet. This made a resounding thud which startled him and he looked above as if they were being attacked. "Relax." Said Terry. "That's you. Men our size have a tendency of making some fairly large thuds when walking. Muscle mass weighs more than just bone and fat and we've got a bit of the mass on us." "Oh... right..." Julian turned and attempted to walk out the hatch doors but wobbled and fell over. Terry was there, still a little off balance himself, but only due to not having walked and using those muscles for the last few days or weeks, perhaps months. He stopped down and put his right arm under Julian's left arm pit and then around the back until his right hand was under Julian's right arm pit. Draping Julian's left arm over his shoulder and holding it down by grabbing Julian's left hand with his, Terry smiled shyly at Julian. "Here. We're both going to be a bit wobblely from lack of movement. Perhaps we'll do better supporting each other." "It's so hard to move with these legs." "That's what happens when you develop large, powerful thighs. They get in the way of each other. Here... kick your legs out kind of sideways when you walk. That'll help." "Yes... it takes some of the pressure off of....ugh...." and Julian laughed nervously. "What? It's ok go ahead and say it." "It takes some of the pressure off my balls. How the hell do you do it? With the size of these thighs and these bull balls, it's like I'm racking myself every time I take a step." Terry giggled. "Just wait till you learn to walk around with your cock snaked down your pants or at home you say 'fuck it,' and you just walk around naked. The weight of your cock pulling on your groin. Fuck, it keeps one aroused and horny twenty-four and seven. I honestly believe I was only going to have like a nine inch cock or so, but once it got to that size, the weight began to pull and kept me at that aroused state so much, I think it forcibly caused my cock to grow the extra two and three-fourths inches due to constant erection." Julian laughed as he felt his own now huge cock throb and bob in his pants, aching for release from the confines or the touch of Terry. His mind was also processing so much more than his arousal and moving with quantum quads: moving with big huge feet; the longer stride at six feet four inches; the feeling of his muscles being so full and swole, hard, dense, and strong; the feeling of those muscles touching Terry's; the two sets of muscles bulging and shifting against one another fighting for space; the shirt rubbing on his newly enlarged and downward pointing nips, or the shirt rubbing and shifting all his new body hair; and the realization he was just as tall and big as Terry was. Eventually making their way over to the side of the field. The trio of men watched as the shuttle cloaked itself and became invisible. Then they turned their attention towards a pickup truck that was on a slight ridge of earth that was a well hidden dirt road. Unfortunately the wheels were halfway buried in the soft clay. "It must have rained since this vehicle was placed here. We need to lift it up and out. Gentlemen, I know this is asking a lot, but we can do this. You two grab a back side each, while I take the front." Terry nodded at Julian who had looked at him questioningly, and then took a position next to one of the truck's back wheels. Julian moved around to take the opposite side and the two grabbed the sides of the truck just above the wheels. The drone moved to the front and grabbing a hold of the front bumper called out, "On three gentlemen. One.... Two.....THREE!" Together the three strongmen hoisted the truck up out of the muck and then on the Drone's pulling as he began to walk backwards, moved it slightly ahead of the ruts it created. Once down the drone told Julian and Terry to get into the cab while he went back around and replaced all the loose bramble and brush into the position that originally hid the truck. Then he climbed in the truck, started it up, and the three took off down the road. It was a few minutes before anyone said anything, but it was Terry who initiated the conversation. "So...uhm.... Drone Three-five-seven-one?" "Call me, Dries. That is the name I will be going by where we are living, Dries Van Donk." "Alright.... Dries..... uhm where are we going and what do you mean 'where we are living?'" "Allow me to explain much. You were kidnapped by a race of what you would called space aliens. They refer to themselves as the Syriegs. The Syriegs helped create my people, the Nord'oks, from people on this planet. We are bred to be large and docile, perfect little drones to do most manual labor for them, especially the heavy stuff. "Now at the same time, they are still studying your race, humans, and how they have developed over the last two-thousand years. Oh yes, you haven't been alone and you've not be alone for quite some time. At any rate, that is why you were both taken originally, to see how human kind has developed physically, psychologically, and so forth." "Wait, so they plucked us two to be samples for the entire Earth?" "You are an extraordinary specimen, Mr. Mikicia..." "Terry, please, since you gave us your first name." "Alright, Terry. ... You are an extraordinary specimen of your species, Terry, but these are a scientific race of aliens, do not let pride think that you are the only person they have taken and observed." "It's like all those stories we've heard about, Terry. Those alien abductions and people only remembering glimpses, if they ever even realize they've been abducted." "Correct, Julian. Although they can mask ones abduction very well, the process is far from perfect. But some of us Nord'oks have decided to it is time to end this. Not only do we wish to achieve freedom for ourselves, but for the experimentation and observation of the human species to stop as well. In order for this to happen, we need more of you to be aware and coherent about your abduction. Obviously we cannot just drop you off back home as they would find you there, and now that part of Julian's missing growth pattern has been restored, he would stick out like a sore thumb there, identifiable to anyone who saw him. I, too, need a place where I can hide and blend in. Being large men the best place for us to do so is a country where men are fairly broad and large." "And where is that exactly?" asked Terry. "We are in the Netherlands. Specifically heading towards the town of Geldermalsen a little over an hour away from Amsterdam." "The men are pretty tall here but not necessary broad. That's usually more of the Norse." "Which is why those of us planning an escape like this, especially for you two, we chose the Netherlands. If your body frame is too bulky and built and stands out too much, it is fairly easy to cross over into the Scandinavian regions and blend in better there." "So why were Terry and I chosen to be kidnapped?" "With your family away on vacation, and a home located in the countryside you were easier to abduct with minimal effort. Also they wanted to study you as there was such a difference in your appearance, they wanted to know how the divergence amongst family members became so great." "Divergence among family members? We're not related." "You and Mr. Dealag are not related, Julian?" "No." Dries began to laugh low and long, continuing until Terry interrupted it. "What is so funny, and what did you mean earlier by Julian's missing growth pattern?" "Part of the reason why you two were going to go to the home world was because of your exceptional size and strength. Although many of my kind are taller than you are, Terry, you have an ample ability to become far denser and stronger than most of us. Your musculature was something in particular they wished to study and breed. Given Mr. Dealag's..." "Julian..." "Given Julian's frequent appearances at your house for so many years, and the fact he was there on a night where the rest of your family was gone, it was assumed you were relatives. This was believed even more so when you, Terry, told us that Julian should have equaled you in height, musculature, and sexual organ size. In turn that statement was collaborated by Julian's statement of how he had never grown since sixth grade and we found documents that supported this, plus his charts of how he was supposed to have grown." "oh...my...gawd...." "What is it, Julian?" "Hence the reason why they wanted you two to return to the home world, your genetic code was to make you giants among your people and they wished to exploit that." "Giant's among men...Julian what did you tell them?" "It's still so foggy... but I think when they asked me why I was so much smaller than you, I told them my fantasy story I've had since junior high." "And what was that?" "That I just stopped growing at the end of sixth grade for some reason and thus I was missing like almost half of my physical development." "And so they gave it to you and that's why you're as large as I am now." "That is incorrect Terry." "Incorrect, Dries? Look at him. That's what they did. He's every bit as tall and as strong and as hung as I am." "Although that is true, that isn't however the replacement of the lost growth spurt we thought he, and you, were supposed to have." "Wait, me? What?" "Since you said Julian was supposed to be as big as you, we figured his development had been stunted and we brought him up to your size." "Right." "But then we found the documents about what should have been his physical growth that he didn't receive and we programmed treatment for him to have them. Since that would've have put him quite a bit taller than you, and they thought you were family, the same treatment was given to both of you." "Just what kind of documents where these? Where did you get the information?" Julian groaned and finally croaked out. "It was my fantasy journals." "What?" "My fantasy journals where I wrote how I hadn't grown properly missing part of the average male growth spurt between ages 9 and 12, all of the small growth spurt between ages 12 to 14, the big growth spurt between 14 and 18. All of which is recorded in an Almanac of information from like twenty years ago." "Do not forget the other information, Julian." "What other information? Julian?" "I also had created fantasy documents. One that showed how most males grow about another two inches between ages 18 and twenty five, how excessive exercise can cause an increase of height between four to five inches, and how I, being as I was premature was shortened seven inches of growth in the womb coming out so much smaller than the average baby boy." "And given what we thought was supposed to be both you and Julian's current corrected height, we added two more inches on to that." "My gawd! Julian! We're going to be real live fucking hulks! We won't fit anywhere. What the hell were you thinking?" "I certainly wasn't thinking that one day an alien race would one day kidnap my ass, look at the documents, think they were actual medical documents, and make it all happen! It was just a fantasy. Something I dreamed up." "But why?" "Terry... you don't understand... You grew up. You GREW! You grew into a taller than average man with all these rippling muscles and strength and balls of exceptional virility with a massive tube steak. You and almost every other guy in school, although in varying states of packaging than the complete one you got. There I was... five feet nine inches tall at the end of sixth grade, twelve years old, standing taller than my father, as tall as most of the teachers. My family thought I was going to be huge! A giant! And I just stopped. More and more all the other boys just grew right past me, taller, broader, stronger, more hung, and then they all began to tease me and taunt me, pick on me, abuse me, and even though I fantasized about them, being with them, making love to many of them, I also wished I could grow to join them. Then I wished I could grow and become slightly bigger than them taking over their records, beating them in sports, eventually growing into a giant of a man that they would be powerless to stop. It just became an all waking fantasy that I couldn't get out of my head, that I jacked off to more and more, and the more I did so, the more I needed to create things to get me off. Doctored photos of me being so huge, the documents showing what kind of growth pattern I should've had...muscle growth stories that made me horny and feel powerful. ... ... ..." Terry turned his head and stared in silence at Julian until finally whispering, "Gawd.... Julian.... we really did a number on you, didn't we?" "Yes..." "Well, now you're bigger than most of the guys from high school. You're built like a tank and hung like a horse, just like me. There are some men bigger than us, but we're large enough to command respect at a glance. Your fantasies have become reality now. You don't need to feel timid, frightened, or insecure anymore." Julian looked up and while blushing smiled at Terry, who smiled a very reassuring and beautiful smile back. "You two are going to be much bigger than this." said Dries. "In fact it's one of the reasons why we needed to hurry and get to our new home. I activated the growth program so it would be more difficult to find you as their last records of what you looked like would become incorrect." "Won't they be able to calculate how big we'll be?" "No. I've sent a virus back through the systems erasing all your files and both the bieg ship, the shuttle craft, pad, and medical tables. Here we are gentlemen." Dries pulled the truck into a driveway on the outskirts of town and parked close to a large two story house that looked like it was oddly proportioned. "Wow...huge house." "Indeed. We weren't sure how tall you'd become so we got this place which is an old four story granary type barn. Hope fully the floors are high enough you'll have room to move, although we'll probably have to adjust the doors to accommodate you." As they got out of the truck, Dries turned and tossed the keys to Terry. "Here." he said. "Unlock the door. There's only two keys so shouldn't take you long to figure out. Julian, help me with these boxes." Peeling back a tarp, Dries revealed three boxes containing provisions packed in plastic or tins, as well as some mechanical tools and objects for helping to get appliances running. Stepping through the door and the corridors, Julian and Terry discovered what was to be their new home: Entering through the back door, they came into the a combination mud room, breakfast/dining nook and kitchen. On the wall farthest from them in the middle was an open squared archway and on the far right hand side as set of fairly enclosed stairs going up. Stepping through the doorway was a decent sized room with hutches, china cabinets, and a dining table. Opposite the kitchen-dining doorway was another doorway that led to a great room that rose up all four stories and showed exposed rafters. It contained three couches, some recliners, a large radio, TV, desks with computers, door to a half bathroom, and the grand stair case that led to the second story, at the bottom of which was front door out of the house. Upstairs all the bedrooms and their private baths were as tall as the downstairs rooms not counting the great room, two stories tall. Each had some kind of bed, nightstand, armoire, and chest of drawers." "Come, help me get the provisions unpacked and into the...what do you call it? Pantry. I will get the stove, furnace, and fireplaces going." "Not a probAAUUUUUGH!" Terry had started to answer while smiling at Julian and clasping him on the back, but he suddenly doubled over in pain that was coursing through his entire body. Julian let out a yelp as well, experiencing the same kind of sensations. "Are you two, alright?" "Not sure, Dries." said Terry. Dries looked at Terry then backed up a couple of steps. "What? What is it?" "The growth is beginning and beginning now. Your face is completely devoid of any facial hair." Terry looked over at Julian and could see his face was smooth as a baby's bottom as well. Reaching over for the ties of the shirt, Terry untied the ribbons and pulled the shirt apart in the front. His chest and abdomen were also as smooth and hairless as his face. Suddenly his chest began to deflate a little and his abs to become not quite so defined. "What's happening to us?" Terry queried loudly, but his resonant voice scooped up into higher pitches as he asked and soon he sounded more a like a young preteen, albeit a fairly large preteen. "The program is reverting you back in age in order to more efficiently produce the replacement growth into your bodies. Get to the great room now. We have no idea if you'll grow too tall for the other individual rooms." Julian and Terry bolted for the grand stair case and then dashed for the center of the great room before they both doubled over in pain. Dries showed up with a couple of round disks and placed one each in the upper corner of both men's left eyes. "There is not much I can do. You will be going through this process, but it is rushed. You will be experiencing a great amount of growing pains as your skeletons enlarge and lengthen, the same for your muscles. Just try to breathe deeply and slowly, or lie down on the floor and meditate. The disks I placed upon you will show you statistical information through your eyes as your body changes. Will this happens I will go sort out the provisions and get the stove started. You will be exceptionally hungry after this ends." Dries left to go into the kitchen as Julian and Terry became a little thinner and even less hairy. Then a hush fell as everything seemed to stop and then both men screamed as it felt like someone was stabbing them with ice picks being driven straight up through the palms, heels, knees, and shoulder blades and into their shins, thighs, arms, and spine. "It might help if we attempt some kind of calisthenics, slight workouts to take our minds off the pain of growth." "That might increase it too. Do you think that wise?" "We're going to be giant fuckers anyway; might as well go for broke." And so as the process began, Terry began to wrestle with Julian, forcing him to use his body to counteract Terry pinning him or holding him into submission. In between the moving, the holding, the pressing, the pushing Terry asked questions of Julian, which their bodies seem to answer. "What...what's huh huh...the first....urrf.....first part?" "Uhm... the make up of my small birth length. Seven inches I think." "No.... they increased it due to my height remember...." "Oh....yeah...OOOOOOOOOOO!" The growth hit them hard this time and as they watched their straight on vision rise up higher and higher they saw in their vision the stat's counter rise and rise in numeric value: 6' 5", 6' 6", 7", 8" 9", 10", 11", 7 Feet, 7' 1"...7' 2". "Oh shit... said Terry, dropping to his kneels with Julian nearly collapsing on top of him. That... that was fuckin intense. How many more of these spurts do we have to go through?" "Fa.....fa....four to five...more...or so....." "And the next one?" "Finishing up an uncompleted growth spurt between ages nine and twelve." "Oh good. Not too much theOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" [7' 3", 7' 4", 7' 4.5"] "Julian...these clothes are already getting too tight and we've not even filled out yet." "Fuck the filling out. My balls and cock are growing and they're being racked by the shrinking crotch in these pants." "What...huuuuuuh.... what's the next one?" "Pre-spurt between ages twelve and fourteen." "Alright and how much is AAAAAUUGH!" [7' 5.5", 6.5, 7.5, 8.5, 9.5] "I think you have your wish for loosening your pants, Julian." "Yeah... we've grown far too tall for these things. My feet have split out of the shoes...." "Mine split out during the first growth for our birth." Julian laughed, "Yeah....true that. Mine as well. But I just split out of these pants in the ass and crotch." "I can tell. Your cock is hanging out all limp between your legs, you horse fuck!" "Who's calling whom a horse fuck, donkey dick?" The two stared at each other laughing but with a very devilish grin on their faces. Suddenly the two of them reached out for each other's cock, attempting to grab it and stroke it. "Oh no you don't. You're gonna get the public boner before I do, Sir Schlong!" "Course I'm going to get a boner. You're freakin' hung like an adult male already. That is so fuckin' hot! Gonna see how big it becomes by strokin' you off." "NO YOU DON'T!" The two began to wrestle each other even more as they attempted to grab one another's penis and cause the other to have an embarrassing erection. Both of them pulling, stretching, effectively jelqing one another's prick. "AAAUGH SHIT ANOTHER GROWTH SPURT! WHICH ONE IS THIS?!?" "Uhmmmm ahhhh.... main one during teen age puberty...." [Access to local information readjusting calibrations for growth spurt. Men of your height should have something akin to NBA player David Robinson....] "Did you see that flash across your eyes, Julian? What the hell does that mean?" "I think it means, we better hold... hold on! NMMMMMMMRGFFF!" [7' 9.5", 7' 10.5", 7' 11.5", 8' .5", 8' 1.5", 2.5". 3.5", 4.5", 6.5", 7.5"] "Auuuugh...aughhhh oh shit... did we? Did we just grow ten inches?" "Yeah...." "I don't think even myself personally at 6' 4" had a ten inch growth spurt.... oh my....Hmmmmmf" "And the small college growth spurt between ages 18-25 now....auuugh." [8' 7.5", 8' 8.5, 9.5, 10.5, 11.5, 9' 1."] "Auuuuugh.... did that just say... nine feet one? Nine feet one inch tall?!?" "Yes... Terry....I....oooh...... I think..... so......keep rubbing.... it seems to lessen the pain and we have one more growth spurt to go through...." "One more?!?" "The adjustment of height due to physical activity." "Oh shit.... we've been really physical due to this....oooh my gawd." Julian and Terry suddenly doubled over into each other's arms and while staring at one another could no longer help themselves. Forgetting all pain of the growth spurts they were going through, they embraced one another and began to kiss passionately and hug and grope one another lustfully, collapsing to the floor in a heap made up of two giant male bodies in the process of stretching ever longer and longer. [calculating effect of athletic activity upon overall growth spurt.... ..... ..... 9'1", 2", 3", 4", 5", 6", 7", 8," 9", 10".... 9'10" tall.] The two men couldn't have cared less by this point. They were rolling around on the floor groping and hugging each other, kissing in mad passionate love. All the whole while their muscles began contracting and expanding, flexing and relaxing, swelling and popping, becoming ever larger, firmer, stronger, more striated, more defined, and denser than ever before. It wasn't too long before whatever pieces of clothing they had left on were being popped, snapped, ripped, and torn off by mountainous mounding of muscle growing on their frames. They went well beyond whatever conditioning Terry's body had been before. They were now truly muscle freaks of the large extra tall, extra heavyweight class of Olympic level bodybuilding. The little disks eventually flashing the total of 1,265.75 lbs for the young men's individual weight. Eventually Julian broke free from Terry and flipping him over onto his back cried out, "Oh fuck this... I want your muscle cock!" and dove onto it right as the disks flashed before their eyes....24 inches - 2 feet. And as he surprising went down on Terry, his mouth and throat somehow taking him all the way down and began to bob his head, each time his nose met Terry's crotch, the crotch got hairier and bushier, thicker and fully while Terry's body became covered in that fine, yet thickly feathered hair all over his body, and so did Julian's too. Eventually Terry had to stop Julian because Julian's two days worth of beard stubble was tickling the inside of this thighs and besides which, he was begging to fill Julian's tight, extremely bubbled butt with his petrified and petrifying pole. Terry had just pushed himself all the way in at Julian's insistence, when Dries walked back into the great room. "Gentlemen, I have dinn....oh! Oh my...." And with that he turned and went back into the kitchen while Julian and Terry writhed on the floor in lust and ecstasy. Two gigantic bodybuilders in love with one another and their bodies.
  8. FREaky

    Abduction Part One by F_R_Eaky

    This is starting off a bit slower that I usually go. The tags will happen over the course of upcoming chapters. This is the long set up. I hope you enjoy this one as always. - Frank. Abduction Part One by F_R_Eaky Julian was expecting to have a decent day today. He didn't have any grand expectations for it, but he figured he would at least moderately enjoy himself at the Pride Festival activities on this balmy Saturday afternoon. Coming in from the middle entrance he knew he'd turn to the right to walk down the main promenade, looking at only the booths on the right hand side. He'd then see who was on stage at this end of the promenade before turning round and heading up the entire length of promenade to see what booths were on what originally was his left hand side and then at the end who was on at the stage on the left side promenade end. After that he'd go back up that half of the promenade to the center and scope out all the food booths. Tomorrow he'd let his friends know which ones had the best food for the best price to have lunch at after the big Pride Parade. For the now, he'd scope out everything on the promenade and afterwards he'd walk off to the side to head to the Missouri-Illinois LGBTQ History display pavilion. It was early in the Pride Festival day, so the promenade wasn't crowded yet. There was plenty of walking room. At the end of the right hand side of the promenade the stage was bare, nothing happening as of yet. No performers. No awards. No competitions. No administrative announcements. Julian looked down at his feet to rest his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. He always forgot to bring his sunglasses.. Seeing that his right shoelace was untied, he stepped off to the side of the stage so as not to go butt up in the crowd and bent down to tie his shoe. What happened next would change Julian's life forever. A strange and wondrous series of events would begin right here and now, although, if Julian foresaw what would happen he'd probably have done his best to stop it. Coming up from tying his shoe, Julian felt a sharp blow to the back of his head. It wasn't enough to make him unconscious, but certainly enough to knock his senses off line for a few minutes. If that wasn't bad enough, a fairly large and meaty hand grabbed his left arm and helped pull his torso up, the hand's partner rushed in and gut punched Julian severely. He would have doubled over but his head met a great wall of pectoral muscles. As he stood there in a semi conscious state, breathing into the shirt covered valley of a set of protruding pecs, his body supported in a standing position by his attacker's hands and arms, those arms pulled him in close, tilted his head back, and began to suck face, long, passionately, and deeply, as if Julian had just walked on and became an extra of a Sean Cody production. His mind tried to tell Julian he should do something, but the blow to his head made his vision and his mind spin and his nose tingle. The punch to the gut made it almost impossible to breathe, which in turn affected his reasoning capabilities, and his attacker lip locking with him only took the impossibility from almost to absolute. The rest of the world, if anyone saw him, saw Julian becoming weak in the arms of his lover. And what a lover this attacker could be. Midway through the deep passionate pucker, the man wrapped one arm under Julian's ass and easily hoisted the 5' 9", 155 pound, platinum haired, ice blue eyed, twenty year old off the ground. In a few short minutes Julian was carried away to an awaiting van parked at one of the metered parking spaces outlining the park. Depositing Julian into the passenger seat, his abductor quickly placed a blindfold over Julian's eyes and then tied his wrists to the arms of the seat and buckled him in. That was the only thing about the car ride that Julian would ever recall. Julian did realize when they stopped that it was several hours later. The white blindfold over his eyes allowed colors of various pastel light through and a cooler breeze caressed his skin which meant it was now around dusk. His nostrils were also filled with the scent of a fresher breeze, tinged with hay and occasionally the smell of animal manure - he was at a farm. This was confirmed when a large door was heard to be rolled open and he was escorted inside. Walking all the way to the other end of the barn, Julian was placed into a chair and given a grunt command with a firm hand on a shoulder as an order to sit down. After being placed in the chair his hands and legs were then bound to them using some sort of fairly strong rope. ["I apologize for the rough handling. I am a bit taller and stronger than most men."] "That doesn't mean you have to handle people this way. What the hell gives? Bashin' the back of my head and then punching me in the stomach, and then...then... KISSING ME!" ["That part was needed in order to make it seem like you were willing to go with me."] Great. Thought Julian to himself. He's using one of those voice altering devices to speak to me. "What gives with the voice. Why do you need to sound so computer like?" ["It is necessary for fear of vocal recognition."] "Vocal recog....what the fuck, bro.? You mean you're someone I know? What the hell is this a surprise party of some kind gone wrong?" ["The first statement is correct, the second one is not."] "I know you?! This is fucking ridiculous. What a way to treat a friend, coworker, or acquaintance. What the hell do you want anyway? I don't have a lot of money. Neither does my family." ["It isn't money that I want."] "Ok, fine then. I'm not gonna just sit here. HELP! HEEEEEEEEEEEELP!" ["Screaming will only wear you out and make you more exhausted. You are in a barn in the middle of its hay stores, the bales of which will absorb your screams. No one outside the barn can hear you, and if they could, there's no one here as they are gone on vacation to Florida for the next two to three weeks."] "So... what... what do you want with me?" ["I need your help. I need you to make love to me."] "Say wha da fu? What makes you think, after this approach for picking up dates, that I'm going to want to make love to you? Why do you need me to make love to you?" ["I need you to make love to me to.... to see....."] "To see what, if you can get it up? Do you have an injury or something that won't allow you to get erect?" ["I need to see if I...I am gay. ... ... ..."] "To...to see... if you're gay? How can you not know? You either are or aren't. I mean seriously, dude. It's something you're born as not something you..." ["I have never been with anyone...ever. Now...away at... ... ... well, away and out in the public, people are wondering what my orientation is. I've been raised, so to speak, to be heterosexual, but I can't quite seem to bring myself to be with a woman. I get erections at the sight of some men, but that could be a passing phase. I need to know if I will stay erect and climax at the touch of another man or if I don't."] "So what? I'm your test subject? a... a...guinea pig of sorts? I'm not just going to make love to you to prove, what? Do you need emotional support to realize it's okay to be gay? I could give you pamphlets, books, websites on information and therapy for that. Just let me..." ["I THINK HOMOSEXUALITY IS FINE! I don't think it's an abomination or a sin. It's just....it's just in my line of training..uh....work...there are...obstacles...people...that rise up and make the path difficult. I want to know how to plan out and map my life. Should I stay this course or change it depending upon whether or not I'm gay. I just.... I....just want to...to make...sure."] "Why did you choose me to verify this?" ["Because... I.... knew you were gay.....and...I....like you."] "So this was a way to get a date?" ["No. ... ... ... It's just a way for me... maybe I'm the only one who needs it done this way... but I need to confirm my sexuality. You... you were gay and kind and smart... .... ... and I knew I had a build you like. ..."] "Build I like? What kind..." ["Please... if you promise to do this for me, no questions asked, I will release you. All I ask is that when I free your hands you don't try to remove your blindfold and you don't attempt to make an exit, of which there is only one, by the way. If I see you attempt one of those two things, I'll knock you out and dump you somewhere. I just want you to make out with me so I can see if mentally, physically it's what I respond to. I've never been with anyone, ever. I've had my blood tested for any diseases, just in case, and can show you that paper if you're worried. You can do it however you like best. Just let me know how to bend or lift or whatever. I basically will be a semi-slave to you tonight."] "Alright! Alright... geeze....I'll do it. Although you better have one amazing fuck bod to touch." The abductor bent over and undid the rope on both of Julian's wrists and his ankles, but stood directly in front of the chair. Julian stood up slowly, keeping the blindfold on for even without physically seeing, he could tell them man was a fairly big man. Slowly, gingerly he stuck his hands out and soon came into contact with a fairly thick and full chest. "Geeze...." Julian whispered as he continued to move his hands up the body of his abductor. Groping, caressing, feeling Julian began to get a sense of how big this man was. His own head only came up to about the man's nose or mouth. He has a very thick and powerful neck that was rooted into some pretty damn broad and solid shoulders, which of course sat above some fairly barrel like pecs. Julian's hands then went down and over the flattened peaks of his abductor's relaxed biceps. "You are built like a brick shit house, and a fairly tall and wide one too." ["I'm 6' 4" tall and weight two-hundred thirty five pounds."] "Oh my...." Julian's knees buckled at the thought of the size of this man as well as from being exhausted and hungry not having had lunch or dinner so far this day. ["No worries, I have you."] "Sorry... ... ... I'm a little weak from skipping lunch and dinner...." ["If you want we can stop this and I can get you something to eat first."] "No, no. It's okay. I can do this." Placing his hands on the abductor's chest again, Julian glided them up the neck and reached out for the chin, causing the abductor to flinch his head back and inhale sharply. "Don't worry. I'm not going to try anything stupid. You are built way bigger than me and could knock my head off I believe, or put me into a more permanent state of unconsciousness. And as tall as you are, and assuming you've worked your legs out too and aren't chicken legged, if I attempted to run away, you'd chase me down in minutes." Julian's abductor relaxed and Julian went back to seeing the man's face via his finger tips. The man's chin was strong but not too prominent. The jaw line was pretty square and the cheek bones were set fairly high. Although there was a two day or so worth of stubble on the face, Julian could tell the cheek bones were hidden slightly be a pair of fairly chubby cheeks. "My gawd..." thought Julian. "He has got to have a wonderful set of dimples to look at." Next were the full, pillow-like lips that was below the man's slightly bulbous and wide nose. A thick but well groomed set of eyebrows floated above a pair of eyes that felt as though they might have a slightly outside downward turn to them almost as if he were oriental of some sort. Then the hands reached the top of this behemoth of a man and became entangled in thick mop of hair that hung down to the man's shoulders. ["What do you want me to do?"] "Well, first..." said Julian as he moved his hands down to his abductor's waistband and then run them up inside his shirt."We're going to remove this shirt..." As the abductor reached down with his meaty hands and grabbed a hold of the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up, over, and off his torso and head, Julian sent his hands gliding across the man's abdominals and obliques, then catching up to the man's pecs, giving the nipples a squeeze. The whole time Julian was getting harder and harder in his pants over how built this man was, and now how hairy he was - he could run his fingers through it on his chest. Tall, built, hairy... this man's body had almost everything Julian ever wanted in a man. "Oh gawd, he can't be handsome... if he's handsome then I'll... and what a fuckin' eight pack. I could trace that all...." ["Pardon?"] "Nothing! Nothing... just kind of mumbling to myself." Julian kept alternating hands left and right, back and forth, letting each one massage a nip, or stroke the obliques, or trace the abs. He kept this up for quite some time until wrapping his arms around the abductor's neck, he spoke. "What I need you to do now, if were truly going to see if you're gay, is to pick me up and support me either around the waist or under my ass." As the abductor did so, Julian lip locked him giving him one of the deepest, most passionate kisses he had ever given a man. Julian wasn't sure who this was, even after being told the man knew him somehow from somewhere, but that feeling, that instinct that he somehow knew the man quite well was talking over along with a burning desire the more he felt the man's granite like body. The man although surprised at first by the kissing motion, began to return it back just as equally passionate, and when Julian began to use his tongue to caress the abductor's tongue, the abductor followed suit pressing his full pillow like lips even deeper towards Julian. Julian ran his hands through the man's thick hair, over the plinth like neck, across the mountain mounding traps, skimmed over some bowling ball like delts, and finally after caressing the tris and running a finger to trace the quickly rising blood vessel across the top of flat yet still quite mounded bicep, begged the man to flex one for him so he could cup it in his hand. The feeling of the large ball of biceps was almost enough on its own to make Julian reach an early climax. "I need you to put me down and for you to get out of those pants." ["You will trick me. You will leave me once they are around my ankles."] "No.... I will stay here, I promise." The man did as he was told to do so, even taking off his socks and shoes in the process. When the man announced that had stripped out of his lower clothing, Julian dropped to his knees and asked for the man's foot. Raising his foot, the man allowed it go slightly limp as Julian moved it to position it on one of his thighs. Upon contact Julian let out a small gasp. ["Are you alright?"] "Yes. I expected you to have decent sized feet, being a tall man and all, but these are getting up there." ["Is that a problem?"] "No..." and Julian swallowed hard before answering. "It's a turn on. They feel about as long as a ruler, maybe slightly longer. They are wide too, thick, meaty. They're just as muscular as your upper body is." ["Size sixteen, 4E wide."] Once again Julian swallowed hard as he began to caress the man's foot with both of his hands, massaging and rubbing them, running his finger between the man's toes. Eventually he moved his hand across the arches and ankles, through the hair on the man's legs up the shin and across the back to grab a hold and kneed the man's very ample calves. The abductor's ankles were as thick as his wrists and the calves were hard dramatic sized diamonds. Julian shuddered out a breath, realizing, calculating in his mind that this man was overly blessed in the genetics department. He was incredibly thick in a regular, average, skinny state, which meant that he could blow up far more than what he was now and carry an insane amount of muscle weight on this frame. Tracing the hamstring up to the thigh bicep, Julian caressed the abductor's thigh, moving his left hand to trace and feel the crevices and mounds of the tear drop shapes, while his right traveled up to, run into, cup, and grab the bulging, bubble butt cheeks. These legs matched his torso in being so full and stacked with defined, dense, muscle. If the man snapped his leg straight, knees locked, foot pointed, it became a massive column for Julian to climb and cling around like a growing vine of ivy. Suddenly Julian pushed himself away. "I can't do this. Go stand on the other side of this barn!" ["What? What is wrong? What is the matter? I don't understand."] "I just can't. No... this is wrong... I won't. Stand on the other side. GET AWAY FROM ME!" ["Is there something wrong with my body? I thought you liked very muscular men. Am I too hairy, perhaps I should shave?"] "It matters not if you shave! I just can't. It can't happen. I need you to leave... me... alone!" ["I... I'm sorry... for... whatever I did... please... please I need you to finish this.... I need to know..."] "How are you feeling right now?" ["Confused.... scared...incredibly lonely now that your touch has stopped. Extremely upset at the thought of upsetting you. Losing you...even though I don't really have you because I..."] "You were turned on and you don't want the feeling to end. You're feeling a physical and emotional loss at its sudden stop. All this from the touch of a man. Have you ever felt this way towards a woman?" ["No."] "Alright. Then trust me, you are gay. How are you hanging now? Still erect, or soft?" ["Soft... ...suddenly very soft....I think the shock and feelings of guilt and embarrassment have made it even recede slightly less than normal."] "Alright. I did this out of selfishness." ["Did...what?"] "Pushed you away. I was hoping it would make you flaccid. If you're going to keep me here, make me do this to you, then I need to get something out of it for my own sake. I want to feel you get aroused. I want to feel it become erect in my hands, and if your body is any hint of what you might be packing, I'm going to fuckin' love this." Julian motioned for the man to come back towards him. When Julian could feel the presence of the abductor's body near him, he got back down on his knees, reached out and felt for the man's crotch. He wasn't displeased or surprised. "Holy shit..." Julian gasped. "You had better be just a shower or I'm going to be in big trouble..." The man pulled his body back a little and blushed all over. Julian could feel the heat rise and radiate all over the abductor and feel the man's stance shift into one that was coy and shy instead of the usual confident and aggressive. "Do... ....do you know how big you are?" ["Eight and a half inches soft."] "A..aan....and e...erect?" ["Eleven and three-fourths by six"] "Holy shit.... fuckin' beast...." Despite his now slight apprehensions, Julian reached out and began to caress and stroke the abductor's mighty cock with his right hand. His left hand went past to cup and fondle the man's balls, which felt as equally larger than an average man's testicles as the abductor's cock did. Within seconds, Julian's thumb glancing across the man's scrotum had the abductor moaning in pleasure. In only a minute or two, Julian's right hand felt the abductor's cock surge and swell, throb and bob, lurch and lengthen, tighten and thicken. It grew impossibly hard and straight like an iron bar with a many a veins crossing over it and a clear and firm penile raphe underneath. The head quickly out grew it's hood of excess penile tissue, the abductor being an uncut man. That head grew a bit thicker and fatter than the rest of the penis forming a perfect helmet at the end of such a long shaft. Fully erect the abductor's penis just stuck straight out from his body. Its own length and thickness making it too heavy to physically rise and point upward and smack the man's abs on its own. It did however bob and bounce like a fishing rod, each and every time a pulse of blood coursed through it. Once fully erect it didn't take long for Julian to stop his stroking procedure and begin sucking on it in true sucker and lollypop style. The abductor shuddered and moaned as Julian's lips encompassed his cock head and form a seal around it. He uttered and sputtered as Julian's head moved forward, causing his lips to do the same and caress that shaft as long and as far as he could. Julian did all manner of tricks to suppress his gag reflex, which was being activated more and more by the super shaft filling his mouth and then throat. Soon his tongue went to work, swirling round and round the shaft, tracing the raphe and licking the underside of the cock from base to piss slit, before beginning an in and out dart and flick session that traced the crown of the head and flicked the slit until the abductor began squirming and wriggling in mad, mad ecstasy. ["AUGH!...FUCK!....WHAT...HUH HUH HUH....WHAT THE HELL...ARE.....ARE YOU....DOING TO ME!?"] Julian didn't break his contact to inform the abductor at exactly what this was. Instead he kept working and working the mega meat until he was able to take it all the way down so that his chin tickled the abductor's balls while his nose were tickled by the abductor's public hair. The abductor couldn't hardly take it anymore. His legs began to contort. His feet and toes began to curl. Slowly, small strides at first, he began to step forward, pushing Julian more and more until they hit one of the great walls of hay. It was at that moment the abductor heard a pop. "Take me.... take me now. I don't care that you're my abductor. That you have kidnapped me. I need to feel you in my lower parts now!" Julian jumped towards the man, his arms clinging around the man's bull neck, his legs wrapping around the tight waist, his lips planting a firm, firm kiss on the man's lips. The abductor wasn't sure what to do, so with just hands and body for guides, Julian finally got himself lowered onto the abductor's dynamic dong and showed the man what it felt like when one takes a tight, tight, ass balls deep. ["Oooooh my gawd! I....I.....it feels.... IT FEELS!...."] "Shut up and develop a rhythm to your pounding. Get into that....lose... UGH! your. ... OH!...s...self and go with the rhythm. OH OH OH OH FUCK!" Julian's back and shoulders were being pushed up and back, digging into the hay bales, individually pieces of straw stabbing and slightly cutting into him. His hole felt like it was being stretched and stretched and stretched while his insides felt as though they were being moved around. The abductor felt like he had found a jacking machine that finally fit him. Waves of pleasure crashing over and overwhelming his mind and senses. His primal instincts took over, leading his body into that natural rhythm of pounding and ramming. It wasn't too long after this... ["Oh.... oh... AIEE! I'M GONNA.... OH SHIT....IT'S GONNA...GONNA!"] In a quick motion, the man stepped sideways and Julian felt his back exposed to air. The man pushed Julian off of his cock with a loud pop and then suddenly became spastic. ["Auuuuuuuuuuuuuugh HUH HUH AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGH OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH HUH HUH HUH HUH HUH AH HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO FUCK HUH HUH AH SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HMMMMMMMGRRRRRRFFFFFFF HUH HUH HUH OOOOH!"] Having landed on his feet, Julian stood there, in front of the man, in absolute amazement. Despite the man falling on his knees and Julian being a couple of feet away from him, the man managed to shot his load across and up the distance to splatter on the front of Julian's shirt. The realization sent a spasm down Julian's spine, over his ass, across and into his balls, which in turn sent a sensation up his cock and there Julian shook and shivered in orgasm. Julian heard the man moan a bit more and then the sound of his body collapsing backwards to the ground. He also manage to deduce that he had to be in the opening that led to the doors of the barn. "Fuck it..." he thought to himself. "It'd only help prove my story if I'm found pants less. Leave the jeans behind." And in a swift motion, he blindly reached and jumped above him, near the edge of the tunnel and latched onto the strings of one of the hay bales. With a bit of struggle and jumping, he managed to weaken the bale that was the cornerstone of the arch and soon he could hear and feel the multitude of stacked bales above him coming down. Julian then turned and ran out the tunnel. ["No! Wait! Auuuuugh!"] Julian removed his blindfold once he could tell he was out of the bales of hay. He stumbled slightly as his eyes adjusted to the light and began to see again. "Damn, this barn is huge!" Julian never stopped running as he could hear his abductor roaring in panic and stack was shifting constantly. This man was not only large and strong enough, he was well versed and practiced in hay baling and pitching. The man was almost clear of the fallen hay bales by the time Julian got to the barn door and managed to pull it open far enough for him to get through. Hearing the heavy footsteps breaking in to a run, Julian knew that an escape via a driveway or pasture run wasn't an option. Instead, he had to go into the house and hope that he could lock and barricade himself in and his abductor out and make a phone call for help. Still blinking his eyes to adjust and clear his vision, Julian spotted and stumble ran towards the house, hearing the barn door not only being pulled open slightly wider but practically being flung open the entire way in one fell swoop. He ran and ran his footsteps beginning to bound and bounce like a jack rabbit, but his attacker, his abductor, despite making plodding sounds like a bull, began to prove he's more like a Clydesdale horse. Julian wondered if he would make to the house in time, when suddenly there was a blinding light that over took the whole yard. "Oh shit, I set off automatic flood lights....can't see..." Julian heard the word, ["fuck!"] behind him and the heavy sounds of large feet and man they're attached too fumbling and falling. He never heard the final thud, though. At that same moment he tripped and fell, face first to be planted firmly into the ground, his feet high in the air.
  9. My Weekend JOB part five by F_R_Eaky Part One: https://muscle-growt...d-job-part-one/Part Two: https://muscle-growt...d-job-part-two/Part Three: https://muscle-growt...hree-by-freaky/Part Four: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7339-my-weekend-job-part-four-by-f-r-eaky/ Joshua, Brent, Andrixos, & Darien were standing in the city. No really, IN the city. At fifty feet tall each now, their feet covered more than a couple of blocks down a street. Each foot was also planted in a different neighborhood, due to their height and newly burgeoning muscle quads that forced their legs to be apart when standing in a stance or walking down the road Citizens of the city were coming out all over to look at the behemoths among them. To see their hairy, bulging limbs, abs, and chest, swell and glisten in the sunlight. Andrixos and Joshua's form showing off massively deep crevices of definition that cast shadows of super cutness which accented the glinting highlights of every outward bulge of muscle... ... ... or testicles...or cocks. Brent and Darien we of the same size, except their body form was different: Brent looking more and more like a heavy linebacker - off season, while Darien looked like an extreme power lifter. All four covered in body hair that was getting very thick, manly, and musky. People were in shock. In awe. In horror. In lust, at least some of them were. Whatever they were in they realized they might need to get out of the way, out from under foot, because even some of the tallest of them only came up to these mega muscle men's ankles Not only that but as they shifted their weight on each foot, or began to pace ever so slightly, their footsteps made the ground shake and created extremely large footprints that depending upon the road material, had cracks and fissures that spread out for several feet, while the step itself went several feet deep into the ground. Slowly the four giants began to blink and shake their heads, coming out of their muscle growth fervor. They all began to turn and face some of the sky scrapers that were as tall or still taller than them, as they began to marvel at their reflection in all the windows of their respective building. They began to bounce their pecs, flex their arms lightly, perform side thigh and calve posses. "Oh...my....gawd...", said Joshua. "We're giants! armature sized, bodybuilding , giants!" "With porno sized dicks and balls!" said Andrixos. "How do we hide this and cloth ourselves?" "No hiding your cock when it nearly hangs all the way to your knee in flaccid state." said Brent. "Or has balls pushing it out so far." said Darien. It was at this time that down on earth level, people had been watching some more regular sized giants who had hopped up on the tops of Joshua, Brent, Darien, & Andrixos' feet. They too were much bigger built than your average man - twice their size - and they still weren't as largely built as the quartet of behemoths. But giants and very muscular giants they were, and they were doing a great deal of pumping, although not the pumping of iron. Lawrence, their leader, was hollering out orders to stroke and stroke and stroke. Him and his three partners were holding their massive cocks as best as they could and stroking them as smooth, fast, and hard as possible all the way down their steel like shafts. Eventually they and a new group of about sixteen subordinate giants who stood about seven feet tall and "merely" built like gymnasts, all blew a load onto a foot ridge of the four behemoth men. When that occurred, Joshua, Brent, Darien, and Andrixos began to feel jolts of pleasure...ecstasy...lust....power run through them. Their upper heads began to get cloudy again, while their lower heads began to swell and inflate once more. "Ooooh...." said Joshua admiring his reflection in a building. "This is almost like that video, 'A Growing Concern.'" "Which...oooh....which one is that?" Called out Brent. "It's...it's that one where the human like dog..." "Furry or anthropomorphic...." said Darien. "Yeah... that.... this anthropomorphic dog gets shot by someone with a dart containing something.... and then suddenly he begins to....groooooow..." "Oh yeah I know that one He suddenly spurts up taller in like a couple of bounces." "Yeah.... and then his feet suddenly lurch forward, growing larger." "Yeah... yeah... yeah...." said Brent. "He begins to grow in front of this building, kind of like how we're all standing in front of these, and he just starts stretching, and growing, up and up the side of the building..." "Yes...." said Andrixos "and I believe as he experiences these bounces or lurches of growth, his cock starts having lurches too, getting bigger and thicker, even larger proportionately to his growing body." "Ohhh yesssss." "Yeah...bounce and lurch grow!" "Swell and expand..." "Cock and muscle inflation..." "Body expansion..." "Growing so big....our pinky toe can crush the town!" "BIGGER!" "STRONGER!" "DENSER!" "THICKER!" "HARDER" "MORE DEFINED!" "LARGE COCKS!" "BIGGER BALLS!" "MOUNDING MUSCLES!" "COLOSSAL ALPHA MALE GODS OF MUSCLE & VERILITY!" "OOOOOH FUCK YEAH!" "GETTING BIGGER AND BIGGER!" "GROWING TALLER!" "GETTING WIDER!" "BECOMING THICKER!" "AH HOO! OOH! I'M GONNA! GONNA!...." Joshua was the first to blow his load. One last absent minded stroke down his cock and suddenly his body snapped to full standing height, albeit on foot turned inward, heel up, toes digging into the concrete of the city sidewalks and road. He let out a few quaking, shaking moans and was going to blow his load when suddenly Brent cried out, "WE MUST FEED OURSELVES TO GROW!" and he grabbed a hold of Joshua's colossal cock and took as much of the head in his mouth as he could. The touch of Brent's lips to his cock slit, sent another jolt through Joshua's body and he contorted by bringing the other foot inward and raising up off of both heels now, body shaking in pure pleasure as his load came bursting forth like a geyser at some national park. Brent managed to take every single drop and his stomach began to expand and stretch and grow to look even slightly more off season and heavier than his frame usually showed. Once the last drop went down his throat he released Joshua's prick and fumbily grabbed and tugged on his, as if desperate to release and release now. Darien took over Brent's spot and placed his mouth on Brent's member. It exploded at that instant and Darien like some starved child, greedily took it all, his stomach extending and expanding as Brent's had done before him. But with the consumption of Brent's cum, Darien now turned as if he was overcome with masturbation lust and began to stroke on his flesh rod as though it was a banister spindle that needed to be dusted and wax profusely! He grunted and groaned and right when making a stroke began to become a major struggle for all the pleasure jolts it was sending through his cock outward in his body... ... ... Andrixos arrived and sucked off Darien in a most vacuumous fashion. Of course as soon as Andrixos was done consuming every last drop, he now was suddenly over come with pure personal lust and his member instantly jutted out from his body, fully erect, and he began to stroke like there was no tomorrow. It didn't take long before his breathing became ragged and out of time. His body motions became herky-jerky, stop-motion like movements. He began to grunt and then roar a scream of relief, when Joshua came up and locked both lips fully around Andrixos' dick head. Once Joshua was finished, the quartet of fifty foot tall men stood there in a daze, now facing their respective buildings. Then...it began to happen. Slowly but surely all four men began to have the 3d animation kind of growth where they swelled out a bit, and then came back down in size, although not the original size they would never be again. Their toes grew out more, longer and thicker, followed by the rest of their feet getting both longer and thicker. Their hands followed suit growing as well. They shot up in height suddenly from their shins, then thighs, expansion at the hips, with the cock and balls suddenly hanging longer and thicker than before. The torso grew up. The back, lats, and shoulders grew out wider....Wider....WIDER! Their necks got longer and thicker like some kind of column of power. Their arms got longer and yet fuller and thicker, heavier with power. Higher and broader they lurched and popped and swelled and GREW! Veins began to pop out all over their bodies all the way from their feet to the head. As these veins appeared the muscle bellies of that particular body group would just suddenly swell even larger, grow thicker, become more dense and solid than ever before. The muscle expansion seemed to be happening as fast, if not faster than the height growth! Soon the traps were fighting against the neck and both were threatening to pinch off the head. The delts became so full so round one had to look at them when looking at the upper arms, their biceps and triceps, were becoming so full, so mounded, one almost began to think their arms were as big around, if not bigger, than their head. Their chests began to balloon out farther and wider, threatening to make them too top heavy. But massive plates they were creating a ridge above the abs one could swear they could put their own hand into and lose. Although Brent and Darien were of a thicker variety of muscle man, all of them had their abs develop and become a solid core of brick wall as strong as the Great Wall of China. It meant that things like planes could strike their abdomen or belly region and be crumpled and destroyed. Their thigh became fuller and thicker as well, each tear drop becoming as thick as most bodybuilder's whole thighs. The hamstrings becoming a taut tight cables of steel that could support suspension bridges. His calves blowing up and becoming nearly the same size as their upper arm. Their feet getting thicker, longer, and more masculine and manly. They began to perform various bodybuilding poses: a most muscular or crab shot, side chest shot, back flare, quad flex, back quad and calve, double biceps, victory pose... Each and every pose they would grow larger...then taller...then thicker...then fuller.... then denser...more and more and more, up and up they grew. Their cocks began to grow out and out and out. Soon everyone had to leave the city... an emergency evacuation. The four men had grown as tall as the tallest skyscraper in the city and they were out growing it. Another lurch their eyes were above it. Swell their head was above it. Bounce their shoulders were above it. Inflate - their chest. Grow - their abs. Lurch - their crotch. Everyone looked back in horror as they saw the tallest sky scraper shrink down to mid-thigh.... their knees.....their calves....their ankles. This meant their stance was now covering miles and miles of territory. Their feet were covering more and more ground going from city blocks to acres to counties. Up and up and up they grew to where even the cloud line couldn't help them from being naked as it hung too low from their crotch area. Indeed by the time they were through growing, their pinky toe, just the little front ball of it, could cover the entire city. When it was done, the four tried to shift around a bit, walking to keep their balance which they found difficult to do. They had the strength of top power lifters and strongmen. They had a muscular size of just slightly larger than a professional, Mr. Olympia winning, bodybuilder. Their foot falls sent seismic waves around the globe and doubling back on their epi-center. The entire Earth shook and felt as though it might actually come off its axis. Looking around him Brent spoke as softly as he could, "We need to fly...we need to get off of Earth. Our combined weight is going to reek havoc with its balance and gravity. Our feet can cause untold damage with a single step." "Why don't we just jump off of it?" asked Andrixos. "Our push off, would push it out of orbit and crush parts of the plate the continent is on. We can do this... we just have to think about flying." One by one the four colossal giants began to think about flying and then to slowly lift off the ground, up, out and away from the Earth. Mountains of dirt and rock and forests of trees were moved and displaced by their feet lifting off the ground. Rivers' and streams' courses were altered and new valleys had been made, by the mere movement of these men who made Paul Bunyan look like an anorexic midget. Up they rose and off the planet they went, the same earth moving feet now pulling and siphoning off some clouds from the atmosphere as they escaped into space. After flying out a bit, the quartet turned around and looked back at the Earth. They marveled at how huge they were, how masculine and muscled, how virile and hung. They were beginning once again to come out of their testosterone fueled stupor, as they began to realize exactly how large they were. However, their feet had pulled up so much dirt, enough that it could contain grass, flowers, brush and even trees. The warmth of their body, the light from the sun, the sweat from their pores provided everything needed for plant life, and that plant life was sustaining... ... ... Lawrence and his new friends. From droplets of cum, the quartet's sweat, Lawrence and his friends had grown proportionately as well and had made a home and temples upon the colossal quartet's feet. They were in fear, awe, lust, and worship of the four mega men and were once again in the throes of wanking off and making a semen sacrifice once more. Flexing their muscles, rubbing the ground that was the feet of the giants, and spewing load after load, the servants and worshipers of the ultra men continued their quest. Meanwhile, all those semen offerings were having an effect on the four men yet once again. The testosterone began to build up inside them once more, their cocks that hung nearly three fourths down their leg soft started to get longer and become erect once again. The blood began to race and their veins began to pop out all over their bodies. Their muscles began to swell and inflate becoming engorged with blood. "Awwwww man!" Bellowed Brent with just a hushed voice. "...we have become friggin GODS!" "No," said Darien. "We are ultra, uber, TITANS!" Andrixos moaned and began to stroke his cock. "Maaaaan.... I want to watch the world get even smaller." "Smaller?" queried Brent. "Yeah.... watch it shrink down...down...down... until just one of our nuts is bigger round than it is." "Oh my gawd...that would be so hawt!" moaned Joshua. "First the Earth and then.... Jupiter!" "and then the SUN!" "Fuck yeah.... growing so large we eclipse the sun... just one of our balls eclipses the sun!" "And then soon we begin to outgrow our solar system..." "Then our galaxy...." "our UNIVERSE!" cried Darien as he leaned back with his hand stuck out from his side and he tightened and flexed his arms and chest and abs. "NOTHING WILL STOP US!" cried Brent. "WE ARE ETERNALLY STRONG, YOUNG, SUPER STUDS!" yelled Joshua. "SUPER MEN! SUPER TITANS!" screamed Andrixos. "JUST GETTING BIGGER AND BIGGER AND BIGGER AND BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" growled Darien. "BROADER!" "STRONGER!" "MORE MUSCULAR!" "MORE VASCULAR!" "MORE DEFINED!" "MORE HUNG!" "BIGGER BALLED!" "TALLER YET!" "EXPANDING!" "SWELLING!" "GETTING DENSER!" "BECOMING HARDER!" "GROWING FULLER!" "LARGER AND LARGER!" "OOOOH!" "HHMMMMMN!" And the quartet began to pose and pose moving fluidly through space, but their cocks quivered and grew, shook with pulsing rigidity like I beams jutting out from the god like form of the four giants. Slowly the four men turned around in space until their cocks were now pointed to each other's firm, globular, bubble butts. One by one they each went into a friend's ass, at least their dick head buried deep within. "HMMMMNNNGFFFF!" "OOOOOOOH!" "AH! AH! AH! AH! AH! OOOOOOOGAAAAAaaaaw...." "aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWW YEEEEEAH!" No sooner had all of them become docked to one another than they let out fevered and breathless moans, each suddenly and spastically achieving orgasm. As their seed flooded their friend's ass, it coursed through them, causing them to swell and bulk up. Their muscles mounding and pushing up on one another fighting for space, becoming more defined, getting denser, thicker, fuller, harder, and much. much stronger than ever before. In mere minutes, the muscles had grown so large that Joshua and Andrixos looked to be the size of the Incredible Hulk, possibly even bigger. Their upper arms looked to be a size and half larger than their own heads. Their calves the same size while the thighs were twice as thick as that. Their shoulders from afar looked to be almost as wide as they were tall. Their chest barreled out so far they could actually rest their pecs on their hand and still barrel over. And all of that size and shape was accented by their remarkably taut and tight abdomen section that was so cut and defined it looked like a well laid out cobble stone road. So swollen with muscle they were, even their fingers when flexed looked like a full fore arm and upper arm with size thirty inch guns. And yet when the swelling stopped, the proceeded to get even bigger! They were growing and growing at an inhuman rate. Their earlier descriptions became predictions as their bodies stretched and reached out through the darkness of the universe. The Earth shrank until it was smaller than one of their balls. Uranus, Saturn, Jupiter all followed suit and became smaller than their balls. Their bodies became as long as the linear distance of our planets orbits in our solar system. The giants' bodies were blocking and smashing apart items in the asteroid and Kupier belts. Still they grew! Pulling planets from their orbits, the sun wonder what those big balls were, the solar system and then the galaxy becoming too small to house four human beings. The four men rubbed their continually growing pricks which were gaining in length and girth, becoming nearly as long as they were tall when erect now. Their balls grew larger and fatter, fuller and rounder, being so big they rested on these titans thighs. More and more the titanic sized men chanted about growth and getting bigger and stronger, becoming the largest men ever in the history of mankind, not to mention the strongest. Wider, thicker, harder, stronger, longer, fuller, broader, bigger...Bigger....BIGGER......BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGEST! If there was anything that could scientifically record this happening, it would show that the four men did indeed out grow our solar system, our galaxy, and quickly outgrew the universe itself. At that moment, their cocks popped out of each other and each man roared and attempted to flex, their muscles so large now they were nearly muscle mound and motionless. But with that flex they erupted mighty streams of semen that sped through the universe, colliding with one another on some other end, in some other universe, swirling together to create a new galaxy with new solar systems, with new planets, with new continents, with new countries, with new districts or states with new towns with new houses and new hotels with new... ... ...people. Inside one hotel were two of those new people: Jonah and Brendan. "STRETCHING ACROSS THE UNIVERSE TO GROW... GROW....GROW...." "INTO THE NEXT ONE!" "YES AAAUUUUUUU HU AUUUUUUU HU HUH AHHHH!" "AAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!" The two lay on a bed next to one another, heaving and sighing. The bed had their lap tops on and running, and the t.v. was on and hooked up to a small DVD player, all of them showing and displaying bodybuilders, power lifters, shirtless line backers, and strongmen. "aaaaawwwww fuck! It is do good listening and talking with you, Jonah, about muscle and strength, and huge cocks. Your imagination for growth and description is great." "You're not too bad in that department yourself, Brendan. Oh, and jacking each other off this time helped a lot." "Yeah.... you don't have to think or worry about when you're going to cum yourself, just go with the description and imagine the growth and then eventually you'll blow. But... we need to get cleaned up. It's gonna be time for me to go soon and I've got your spoo on my hand." "I've got yours on mine. Hey you know what the story says we should do...." "Hmmm I don't know...." "Don't know... just do. SLURP!" "Oh my gawd! I can't believe you just did that... well... ok... I can still play. SLURP!" The two laughed as they stood up to get some towels to clean up. Jonah a shorter slightly stockier man compared to Brendan's taller, lankier form. Jonah washed himself down and put on his clothes. He watched some t.v. while Brendan did the same. Afterwards he packed up his laptop and other things and headed for the door. Brendan walked him there, shook his hand, and gave him a hug. "This was great. We'll have to get together another time soon, go over more videos and stories and all that." "Yeah... that'd be fun. Let me know when you're free. Just give me a call or shout out in the chat rooms. I love my weekends with my Jack Off Buddy." "Sure, will do.... .... ...do hear something?" "Yeah... what is that?" "It sounds like something ripping... check your back, maybe a seam has come loose." But just at that moment Jonah's feet erupted from his shoes and his frame grew taller and taller until he stood as tall as Brendan. The two men smiled.
  10. It had been a long day, slaving away in my cubicle. The drudgery of routine had long since taken over any type of excitement I may have ever had about my job. I was middle age, out of shape, and quite frankly broken. And as I completed the arduous tasks put to me by my boss, and drove through the rush hour traffic back to my apartment, I had ample time to reflect on my station in life. I pulled up to my complex, drug myself out of the car, and nearly tripped on a box that had been unceremoniously been tossed near my front door. I opened my door, and kicked the box in. I went through the routine of cleaning, cooking, eating, and doing my rituals after work, when I noticed the box on the floor where I'd kicked it. Walking over to it, I noticed that there was no identifying label on it. It wasn't addressed to anyone, and apparently hadn't come from anyone. Curious, I opened the box somewhat hesitantly. I dunno, maybe I thought something was going to jump out at me. No movement, so I took the top completely off and found what I thought was a blue, shiny tank top resting at the bottom. I'm by no means athletic, too many hours of a wasted youth in front of video games rather than doing anything outside. Not fat, really, just not 'muscular', or anyone that could in any way fill out a tank top. I pulled it out, and realized, it wasn't just a tank top, it appeared to be a onesie. Maybe a wrestling singlet? Ok, now I know somebody screwed up - I have absolutely no business using or wearing this. I turn it over in my hands, the fabric must be that spandex / lycra stuff. It's shiny, and looks like it's supposed to hug against whoever's wearing it. It's got some white inlays on the side - made well, looks durable. It looks like it's an XL, probably would fit someone 220-225 lbs or so, maybe heavier. I look down at my 165 lb body and laugh slightly to myself. Looking back at the singlet, on the right leg is a little white square with a red logo of what looks like a stickman with his hands raised. The word "Brute" under the logo on the tag. "Yep," I think, "you'd have to be one to wear one of these things." Holding the singlet, I thought of those pictures I'd seen of college athletes completely going at it. There was something of a primal urge to dominate about them. I guess I could see that. I looked closer at it, then back at myself in the mirror I'd walked over to my brown eyes nestled under a unruly mop of black hair that sort of defied any meaningful style. Why not. I stripped down to nothing and realized that besides being painfully pale, having no muscle to even mention, and looking as far from an athlete as one can be, I had no idea how to put one of these things on. No zippers or anything, so I guess it's in through the neck. I stepped in and put each leg through the appropriate holes, then without much effort draped the straps over my nonexistent shoulders. It was laughable, really. My legs didn't even come close to touching the holes that were meant to grab them, and if I didn't hold the straps on my shoulders, they'd fall down my arms. The neck line was so large, it draped past my smooth 'chest' and would've exposed my abs if I'd had any. I looked like a little kid in their big brother's wrestling gear. It really reminded me of when I'd tried on my first singlet - my big brother's in fact. I couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 and was really curious about the sport. He was a high school wrestler back then, very muscular. Someone I looked up to. I loved his legs. They were his secret weapon. He really overtrained legs, something his coach loved because of the strength, but his quads got so big he had to customize his singlets, the leg holes were just too small. I widened my stance in front of the mirror, shifting my weight. I smiled to myself. My legs were bigger than his. My singlet digging into my deeply etched quads, every muscle standing at stark relief. Square stances were always hard for me, but they were my favorite. Fake out whoever I was rolling with at the time, let them think they have the advantage, then Boom! - Quads sprung, and immediate take down. Plus, with legs this big, it was almost impossible to get my lead leg out without a waddle to adjust my hip position that threw me off balance. I reached down to touch my legs, and felt the singlet rub against my abs. I stood straight and saw my 8 pack, in stark relief, like the singlet had been vacuum packed on my torso. God I'd worked to train those. I wasn't gonna let anybody get backs on me! Had to get my bridges just right, and the secret was always a tight core. Hours doing bridges, planks, anything to build a bulletproof torso. Dieted like hell to get 'em, but damn did it pay off. I rolled my bowling ball shoulders, trying to get some room from the straps clinging onto my traps, moving my huge bi's off my lats, the singlet almost digging into the cobra hood that was my back. I raised an arm and flexed a 21 inch bicep in the mirror, a cocky grin on my face. Coach always said my pecs and my arms were going to kill my growth allowance. I never gave a fuck though. The size is what was made my opponents run screaming. Hell, they'd basically stick themselves to the mat if I just glanced at them. Sure I'd bare my teeth and give a guttural growl, but that's beside the point. I looked at the veins snaking their way down my massive forearms and up my bi's and tri's to my shoulders. Faces of opponents those arms had wrapped up and took down flashed past. Even guys that had more mat time than I did couldn't get past my sheer strength. Those shoulders gave me more inner control than any opponent I ever faced. My pecs strained against the fabric of the singlet. A deep trench between them. They were so big, the singlet actually folded up underneath them, just accentuating my immense size. I flexed a most muscular, the blood rushing into the muscle, pumping the veins larger, and let out a primal roar, my deep voice echoing through my room. I gave a deep dumb laugh. It was something I'd always done at staging at any tournament. Scared the hell outta anyone around me. I mean after all I was a monster. Not a shred of fat or water on me, and nothing but dense, powerful, primal muscle. Holding the pose, feeling an almost orgasmic pump, I saw a blond glint on my chest. Damn, the hair was already growing back - I'd never get through the groom check like that. It'd had been a problem since high school when I started juicing - my transition from human to mutant beast. Sophomore year, it'd gotten so bad it earned me the name "Beast". I liked that though. Primal, masculine...dominating. My 10 in cock stirred to life just thinking about controlling an opponent, toying with them, then using my raw strength to force them to the mat and make them submit - Holy shit I almost blew my load - God I love wrestling! I looked back, game face on, locking stares with the blue-eyed blond hulk in the mirror. My deep tan and flawless skin popped agains the shiny blue of the singlet. I gave a deep growl, never breaking the penetrating gaze to my opponent: myself. This would be my last year wrestling for the college, but maybe I could go on and trade in my singlet for posing trunks. I was almost bigger than most of those bodybuilders anyway. and the thought of getting even bigger - I flexed my lats, arms and chest again and watched the raw power in the striations - transitioning from beast to full on mutant. Oh yeah. That was me. Pure masculine muscle and raw power. I noticed the clock - 1 hour before practice. Better get to the gym, coach does not like to be kept waiting. I flexed a double bi in the mirror, lats straining against the blue fabric. The Brute logo stretched out against my quads. "Damn right I fuckin am!", I gave a knowing grin at the stud in the mirror and strutted off to the gym.
  11. Finished. Hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think of the ending. Comments are welcomed. The Call -Part I The Call -Part II The Call -Part III The Call –Part IV (Final) Lenny rose early and had showered by six. His full-on erection surprised him. Soaping his legs, he thought them firmer. He rubbed his biceps —squeeze to crush. Harder? Lenny shot almost two feet across the tiled floor, another surprise. “How do you feel?” Frank stared into the open refrigerator, having returned from his daily run. Sweat clung like gravy to his powder keg legs. Frank motioned with the frappe pitcher. Lenny nodded yes and said, “I haven’t felt this good in years.” Frank handed Lenny his frappe with a smile “This, right?” Lenny pointed to his glass. “I added another pill to your bedside water.” “Geez, Frank, isn’t that premature? I haven’t been accepted? And, against the rules?” “Rules. There’s a reason Todd and I are buddies.” Lenny remembered the playing with townies story. “And this,” Frank swiveled his glass, “is supplement. The full plan includes three months daily injections, then weekly jabs for six more, until the yearly boosters. The pills are supplements” Lenny pointed to the frappe. “Oh, that shit. It improves metabolize, nothing more. An aid to becoming real big.” Frank flexed his arm. “Especially if you start a bodybuilder’s diet, although much fewer calories with the frappe.” Lenny held his throat. "Oh, come on, not everyone is into muscle building like Jon or Todd.” Lenny’s hand pointed like a gun at Frank. “Fine, but I’m not dedicated like them. They’re gym junkies and wanted to become bodybuilders. But to be honest, the frappe increases everyone size and lowers body fat. Men on average reduce to six percent body fat, woman to eight, which explains amenorrhea at under fifty. Health store supplements and heavy weight training reduce fat more. Todd’s at three, and without the excessive water pills danger of competitive bodybuilders. I’m at six percent.” Frank snapped his arm’s skin like a rubber band. Lenny winced. “You’ll gain two inches on your arms and fifteen pounds with daily jogs and light gym exercise.” Lenny didn’t mention his shower effect. **** The after breakfast walk around More to Life Living allowed Lenny to take more notice of body types: draped with muscles and buffed head-turner the majority. But a handful of “normal” health club fit and trim walked past. No one appeared sixty or more; this was a mid-thirties campus. A More to Life email had broadcast Lenny’s trial acceptance, thus increasing the number of chats. Lenny heard stories, which Frank cut short —retirees’ habit to tell war stories. Many offered Lenny advice, another habit hard to break. The consensus was that Lenny should accept -- best decision he would ever make. At the clubhouse, Frank told Lenny people did decline, mostly for family reasons. Entering More to Life was like going into witness protection. People were unwilling to lose contact with their children or grandchildren. More to Life had tried to be flexible, but children in their forties and fifties freaked upon seeing their parents looking younger and fitter than them. The new vetting process stipulated no children or grandchildren. No strong relationships that couldn’t be abandoned. But people could come as partners. Frank asked Lenny about his relationships. Lenny smiled at the contradiction, recalling the committee had concerns over him being a loner With their promenaded over, Lenny sighed relief that he wouldn’t be touching any more musclemen’s bodies, but at the entrance a female bodybuilder pressed Lenny overhead five times. After chastising the woman, Frank explained that at sixty, seventy, and ninety-their real ages—they needed verification of their strength and hard-muscled bodies. And showing-off brought them childlike joy. “Do you know what I’m trying to say?” Sort of, thought Lenny. But did he really want —need— others to validate his existence? Did he need muscles that filled doorways, or have the strength to lift refrigerators like a lunchbox? For what? Sex? Exploratory sex? Lift people over his head? It didn’t sound like fun. Frank’s wasted his time, and his nomination opportunity. Yet, Lenny recognized the advantage of a community. That’s what he had loved about the Kennedy Space Center, a community flexing brain muscle not brawn. More to Life constructed youthful earthmovers for acrobatic sex. **** During his clubhouse committee interview Lenny misgivings came through in his monotone responses. Nevertheless, the committee confirmed his preliminary induction. Would he be willing to extend his stay with Frank until week’s end? Lenny agreed because Frank wanted it. If he needs me to finish the week, I will. But it won’t change my mind. **** The two men cleared Frank’s chicken cacciatore dinner before Jon and May’s arrival. Jon’s cut-off T-shirt exposed anvil arms. His shirt fabric was painted to his chest, his pectorals ready for murder. Lycra shorts emphasized his speed bump glutes, and outlined his penis. May’s décolleté could have buried Lenny up to his neck. Her legs didn’t walk, they trampled. The talk centered on careers, Lenny’s kind of topic and distracted him from the guest’s assets. No muscle flexing, although every hand gestures popped Jon’s bicep; and May’s laughter flung tits across the room. The discussion moved to the future. Lenny smiled at the blasé act. May’s hands pushed up her breasts and rumbled her goodnight words: “Honey, I think these will really suit you in ways you didn’t know possible.” Lenny agreed, not sure of what. Jon whispered to Lenny in a bear hug. “These too.” His pectorals bounced and he kneaded Lenny’s butt. “We’ll fix this too.” **** His early morning shower and hard erection perplexed Lenny. This routine seemed unusual. He squeezed his arm, which seemed harder. An ejaculation followed, which was unusual. Is this a side effect? “Day two. Feel different?” Frank poured frappe and Lenny shrugged. “That’s okay. For some, nothing happens until after a few shots.” As the radio tuned to NPR Lenny wondered if he fit here, all things considered. He was a private person. Did youth matter? Why at sixty-two should he need a muscular body. He was reasonably healthy, if he stayed on his meds. He had no desire to flex muscles or lifting people. A buff, young UPS guy handed a package to Lenny for his signature “Good, it came in time,” said Frank. “Nothing I have would fit you.” **** On the gym floor, Lenny gawked as railroad stock was tossed. His eyeballs dropped seeing a shirtless man bench-pressing four hundred fifty pounds, his Jupiter lunar pectorals moving to zenith with each grunt. “Geez isn’t that too much.” In the Universal machine area. A woman had finished a chest pull with the pin at the weight stack bottom. “Germaine, mind if we join you?” “Jump in. You must be Lenny. Lots of buzz about you. Tomorrow I leave for a Habitat project in Kenya, so we’ll have to talk on my return.” “Did my donation arrive in time?” “Yes, and very generous too. Thanks, Frank.” “Sure, glad to help. Okay, Lenny, lets do the same exercise as Germaine, with lower weights.” Frank moved the pin from the bottom rung to the third from the top, a distance of two feet and one hundred fifty pounds lighter, Lenny looked away. On his fifth push Lenny struggled. Germaine took hold of the bar and with one arm lifted the weight to rest position. Lenny took deep breaths, red-faced. “Frank, make this lighter. You should know better.” Germaine finished another fifteen repetitions with the full stack. Walking out, she said to Lenny, “ I look forward to giving you a proper work out,” and mumbled something to Frank. Lenny continued around the circuit with weights meant for a playground. Lenny’s face smiled as he stood next to a man preparing to curl a twenty-five pound dumbbell; the smile vanished as the man wrist-curled fifteen times, then picked-up a thirty pound dumbbell and did another ten. “He use to do that with sixty pounds, but not since he turned ninety.” **** After the workout, Lenny returned to Frank’s house to nap. The doorbell awoke him. “Oh, uh… hi.” Lenny’s semi-slumber made him believe there was a solar eclipse since no sunlight entered though the open doorway. Todd entered the room like a tollbooth, dressed similar to Jon the previous night. Todd’s fishnet spaces were wide enough to pass quarters. His nipples poked out, provoking Lenny to take change. Todd’s legs barely fit his shorts, his ass training ground for mountaineers. “Frank said you had a tough workout. You okay?” The pair sat in the front porch patio, sipping frappes in the warm breeze that replaced the cold air of Lenny’s arrival. With every raise of his glass, Todd’s T-shirt sealed around his chest, his bicep curved. In a clumsy gesture, Todd spilt his drink, cursing himself, saying he was worse than a kid. He removed his T. Lenny handed Todd a paper roll and noticed his big smile. “Can you help? I can’t see my stomach with these.” Todd rubbed his pectorals. Lenny froze, so Todd moved Lenny’s hand to ride the ripples of his abs. After a few swipes, Lenny stepped back. “That’s better. I hate that sticky feel. But some gunk feels good.” Todd was in rainbow smile mode. “Did they feel good?” Lenny shrugged. “Wouldn’t you like to ride over these?” Todd’s abs tensed, the former ripples cascaded like Colorado rapids. “Even better, right?” “Huh?” “Does this make you want to become big? Don’t you want to know what it feels like? Maybe a muscle guy flexes while you cleanup your gunk on his abs?” “I guess.” “Still shy, are we?’ Lenny stammered. “Its different from anything I’ve … muscles everywhere. You’re different from me.” “You’ll get use to it. You’ll start flexing too, first for yourself, then others.” Lenny’s morning shower flexing flashed before him. Lenny strained to keep out his masturbation, the ejaculation, and the amount of gunk, Todd’s word. “Lenny, its incredible. I want to flex for you now. Its a side effect for some of us, but so what? Its not constipation, not hair loss, and not erectile dysfunction.” Todd laughed so hard he thumped his legs. “I haven’t had erectile dysfunction since I came here. Look at this.” Todd stood. His shorts fell to his ankles. Todd’s posing suit stretched, his hard penis imprinted. Without a countdown, Todd’s poser dropped. “Look, Lenny.” Todd’s missile flung out. His erection crossed the patio. “Yours can be like this too.” He gave a single bicep flex, flicking his penis with his free hand, and bounced his pectorals. He moved both hands behind his head as he recreated the cascading abdomen. His pulsating penis flung around with each flex. “There, that’s out of my system.” Todd rubbed his hand along his hard dick. “I’ll take care of this later, unless you want to help. I could be your first.” Putting his hands under his legs, Lenny continued his silence that began with Todd’s exhibition. “I believe this is the only side effect and no one’s complained.” Todd put on his posers but not his shorts. His erection stretched the fabric. “We enjoy sex but that’s not a side effect, is it? What do you like, besides that space stuff?” “I dunno. Never thought about it. Rockets firing ---” Todd jumped up, saying he urgently needed the bathroom. On his return, Todd put on his shorts. “You’ll want it more in different ways.” Todd kissed his bicep, his expanded chest rocked the deck chair. "I'm not gay." Lenny calculated the failure point of the chair's metal tubing. "Doesn't matter. You might explore. Or not. You'll be surprised at the pleasure a man can provide, but I do other side like Shareen, when needed. That's something I could not have done before. Women still aren't my preference. I mean, a man caressing you and doing things only a man knows... you'll see, I hope with me first." Todd's teeth grew like stalagmites. "You might not be ready for anal but -" Lenny stated to choke. Todd lifted Lenny from his seat like flicking dust, and shook him in the air. "I'm guessing that's a no for now. That's okay Lenny, when you're ready." Todd smacked Lenny's ass and laughed. With out warning, Lenny's felt his face stuffed into Todd's chest, vibrating between Todd's rolling pecs. On release, Lenny heard Todd's even harder laugh. "You sure its a no?" Todd put Lenny down on the ground, looking behind him. "Uh, oh. I'm in big trouble now." **** Frank placed his hands on Lenny's shoulders. "Looks like I arrived just in time. I had a feeling that I shouldn't have told Todd you were resting. Todd, I'm surprised. Its too soon and Lenny hasn't made up his mind yet. I hope this doesn't influence him in the wrong way." "Geez, Lenny, I'm sorry. The formula affects me more than others. Please don't make a decision based on me and my bad behavior." Lenny rubbed his shoulder as Todd gave him a friendly tap as he left. Even though Lenny said there was no need to explain, Frank explained. "The clinic has concerns with Todd and a few others. They're working on sex inhibitors but not interfere with the overall effect." Frank went into detail, missing Lenny's pursed lips and blinking eyelids. Lenny meditated on his negative reaction to Todd, yet he had derived pleasure against Todd's hard chest. Did he crave any power, not only from his beloved rockets? He had become fascinated with Todd's penis, ready to drill holes in Frank's patio. Lenny had never seen anything like Todd's cannonball balls; he smiled at his near alliteration. Glancing at his skinny arms and legs he could appreciate Todd's fascination with swelling muscles. Todd's apology had been genuine; he meant no harm, so, no, Todd would not impact Lenny's decision. The last thought shook Lenny. What decision? He had made one before arriving at More to Life. He'd come to visit, that's all. There's no decision to be made. I'm not suited for this place. **** After the committee meeting, Roz took Lenny aside. "Lenny, everyone believes you are special. A kind generous person, and you'd never refuse to help. Everyone likes you, and that's unusual." The meeting adjourned, with Lenny thanking Roz and the committee for their hospitality and consideration. "Its been an experience I'll never forget." **** Lenny rose at his usual six-thirty. It had been seven months since Frank's call. Soaking his head under the shower water, Lenny looked down: no erection. With a slight wrist movement, a bubblegum lump burped on Lenny's arm. He gritted his teeth, producing flakes of the wet soap bar. The flakes dropped across his rising bicep. Lenny's bicep rose two inches. He held the pose, while lowering his head to confirm what he knew: a rebar rod poked out between his legs. A few strokes and cum shot across the wet shower's six feet to the opposite wall at shoulder height, the splat producing a Rorschach pattern. Lenny saw the outer flare of a rising rocket. His penis reverberated with two more shots. Holding his flagging penis with one hand, Lenny's moved to finish drying in the bedroom. He free hand grabbed his ass as it crawled behind his kettle legs. His fingertips rode the striations of his glutes. Between the bedroom's two facing mirrors, Lenny saw the muscular lines of his ass. His fingers neared his ass crack, engorging his penis. Lenny resumed stroking. Olympian blood platelets rushing along filled his penis. The ejaculate created a new Rorschach on the mirror, which Lenny interpreted as him and Frank on the patio. He bombarded the mirror another time; he mentally added Windex to his shopping list. Lenny recalled his first time, with Todd, in front of this same mirror. May had tagged along, her role unclear at the time. Lenny had flexed, recalling Todd's massive physique dominated the reflections. May crowded between them, her bolero pants gave her ass permission to grope itself. She had toed danced up Lenny's spine, from left trapezoidal over his delts and to the right trapezoidal. Lenny loved the sound -trap-ez-oidal- the way Todd said it. He had teased Todd: "May is more than enough." With a shrug, Todd said, "You think?" He laughed while tossing his shirt aside, letting muscles drop like parachutes. "Lenny, fuck who you want, but it will be me that lifts you to the sky while sucking each of your balls, and drains your dick." This wasn't Lenny's kind of talk, but he never judged others. He punched Todd's arm, an inconsequential pop tart indentation. Todd pouted. "I'm telling Frank on you. Boohoo, you hurt me, you brute." Lenny laughed in a way he had forgotten he could. **** Over the next five months Lenny needed to lease space to accommodate his additional thirty pounds of muscle. The medical team worried. He'd grown faster and bigger than anyone. His pectorals widened, ready for bar service. Each leg needed a separate table. The first year report concluded Lenny had grown too fast, too big, yet his metabolism increased with his intake. There were no visible side effects. They'd have to monitor Lenny as he approached the limit of muscle to bone ratio. Further increase and **** it would cause Lenny problems because of ≈ Lenny understood too well. He also knew how he felt. He knew the report was predicting his personal starburst. But Lenny scoffed at slowing down. If Lenny had been prepared for physical change, he had not for the other thing. He accepted his need for public flexing. But the other thing bothered him. In hindsight, he should have known. His shower erections lasted longer; he needed repeated ejaculations to alleviate the throbbing. Unanticipated erections arrived throughout the day. Lenny would frantically seek men's room; he couldn't bear the idea of a stain in public. Frank had begged Lenny to see the resident psychologist. The doctor declared Lenny was fine, given the amount of muscles he had developed in the short time. The psychologist omitted in his report Lenny's rapid eye blinking at unanswered questions, or running to the men's room during a session; no mention of Lenny moving the psychologist's solid oak Barcalounger away from the sunlight, with the psychologist in it. Lenny and Frank had become training partners until the day Lenny carried Frank in the palm of one hand. That was the day Lenny switched to Todd. Soon it was Lenny pressing Todd to the sky. Lenny laughed hard the day he emulated and reconfigured Todd and Shareen's squat routine: Shareen atop Todd's shoulders carrying a two hundred pound barbell behind her neck; Todd's with his two hundred pound barbell on his chest, locked behind Shareen's knees; and Lenny underneath. He squatted the ensemble fifteen times and quacked a duck walk for fifty feet. Shareen invited Lenny that night to the special room, and Todd invited himself. Shareen and Todd learned discrete combinatory math with Lenny's third-stage rocket twice in Todd's ass, and three times in Shareen's vagina. Todd had been Lenny's first male penetration, but Lenny's anxiety made him too nervous to enjoy, unlike Todd's great delight at having Lenny's as a virgin. Lenny's gratification arrived in May's vagina. Lenny had wondered if his penis had hurt Todd's muscular anus. Frank suggested Lenny try his to compare, and Lenny obliged; ass muscularity wasn't the problem. Lenny liked women. But everyone liked Lenny. And despite his preference, Lenny never refused any request, male or female. He remained true to his self, He was bigger than the Rockies, looked twenty-one -younger than anyone on campus, and his face would have made Adonis wear a paper bag. But if anyone wanted asked to grope him, he'd agree. Strip and flex, Lenny said yes. Say, "fuck me" and Lenny obliged. One guy had asked to fuck Lenny, who cringed but said, "You must need it, so okay." The man failed to penetrate after three attempts, and covered his embarrassment by blaming Lenny for being too tight. Rather than allow the man go away disappointed, the man rode Lenny's shoulders, legs dangling behind Lenny's back, his dick and balls in Lenny's mouth, and climaxed with a one-handed press to the ceiling. Soon word spread Lenny had changed besides his muscularity. Frank told Lenny he was too promiscuous, which Lenny thought rich coming from Frank. Lenny replied that if people craved a muscle-fuck then they must need it; he had no choice. Frank barked out, "And if they ask for your pension, you'd give them that too?" Lenny shrugged. "If they need it more than me,"If they need it more than me then yes." Once a week, Lenny made townies happy. He'd return after muscle- smothering upwards of four men or women, their anus or vagina stretched like Route 66. Euphoric sex overran St Augustine; Lenny's personal homage to the saint. Shot-injection days were pure agony for Lenny. He became so horny he wanted to fuck the clubhouse cash register. The morning shower remained Lenny's favorite moment. Dropping his towel at the bedroom floor to ceiling mirror, Lenny swelled his chest and stepped back for expansion. With a hand mirror he'd telescope his view while feather-touching his near perfect spherical balls. He watched them rise while his ejaculated like a patio power wash. For the More to Life residents, Lenny was on call twenty-four seven. He flexed, fucked, sucked, and lifted. He had more muscles than a troupe of circus strongmen. He farted iron. Lenny was their big-bang expansion. **** Frank pasted the new picture in his scrapbook, to the right of that taken at the dinner with Lenny on his first night. The left showed Lenny at one hundred forty-five pounds skewed to his six-foot skeleton. His lizard legs crawled out of boxer underwear, his crouch without a crease. Lenny's double bicep ported a pimple lump on his nine-inch arm. His breasts matched a malnourished pigeon. A summer breeze would have knocked Lenny on his non-existent ass. The right picture showed a twenty-one year-old Titan. Lenny's six feet resembled a three hundred and five pound bag of nails. Two-and-a-half percent body fat stretched skin to cause paper cuts. Veins crisscrossed like a Los Angeles freeway interchange. His arms grew to twenty-four inches. His index fingers scraped the top of his split peaked biceps. His was not a steroid body. He didn't need six thousand calories daily. Instead of a bodybuilder's distended belly, Lenny's stepping-stone abdominals climbed to a heirloom chest big enough for the Queen of England's jewels. But Lenny's jewels billowed in his solar red poser. Two liberty balls rang out freedom every time he'd ejaculate his sixteen M&M's worth of semen. A big grin developed on Frank's face, as he recalled Lenny's ass, not visible in the photo. The multiple striated muscularity that Lenny had thought superfluous on Todd. Lenny's opinion revised after his four-lane Gluteus Maximi merged scrotum and prostate. Franks' finger traced Lenny's lats off the paper's edge. Lenny's upper body invented a new geometric form, making Euclid irrelevant. There was no hypotenuse from Lenny's shoulders to his sternum, no straight line across his pectorals. Shaking his head, Frank pushed the photo album aside to reread the note he found in his mailbox. "I knew this wasn't for me. I need more than More to Life. I need the stars. I need to become a supernova. I need to find the edge of the Universe. I'll never forget you, as long as I exist. You made the wrong call Frank but I'm glad I answered. Thank you." ****
  12. Cappy50

    The Call -Part III

    Comments on characters, plot, and style are greatly appreciated. Please advise on muscle and sex descriptions --do they work or not? Hope you enjoy. The Call - Part I The Call -Part II The Call –Part III Sun streamed into the clubhouse’s committee room. A glass wall created a visible meeting space, even in closed sessions. Frank sat at the room’s roundtable, his back to the glass. On Frank’s immediate left sat Jerry, and Dwayne on his right. Their one hundred percent American Corvette muscle framed Frank. Next to Jerry sat Lucy, a bubbly woman with curves that warranted slow-down signs, not that she did. Filling the circle was Roz, the committee chairperson. Roz’s preferred expanding grey cells over contracting muscle fiber; The Doc’s formula restored her brain acumen, and Roz never complained about her youthful good looks, restored vigor; and she had never refused a big man. Lenny’s fate at More to Life Living Facility depended on these five people deciding he had met the entrance criteria. The “senior” criterion seemed easy for Lenny to pass, but age didn’t make a senior. Degree of infirmity, amount of aging, and psychological outlook were factors. The average recruited “senior” was sixty-three for men and sixty-seven for women. A vital seventy-two-year-old man had been rejected as not a senior. Another criterion rated Lenny’s adaptability: could he accept the More to Life philosophy? How would Lenny react to a second youth and a body better than in his actual youth? Would he become an egotistical SOB? Or would he embrace a second chance to explore life’s pleasures for himself and others? The committee considered Frank’s commitment to apply his accumulated wisdom to help others, both at More to Life and outside. Altruism as a criterion always caused debate: sainthood wasn’t for everyone and difficult to measure: What constituted help and how often? In the early years, committees had struggled with this criterion until a pattern emerged. Even with super fit bodies and restored good looks, people retained their inherent personality, with exceptions. A jerk early in life remained a jerk. But dramatic events could change an asshole into a nice person and vice-versa. To determine the last criterion, Lenny’s nomination came via Frank –a portrait of Lenny’s inherent personality in high school. Dwayne, the independent investigator, uncovered Lenny’s latter life development with thorough background checks. This meeting reviewed Lenny’s adaptability, data obtained by the ostensibly friendly chitchats, inexplicable plowing of muscle into his face, and a gym power tour. This elaborate staging provided a sense of Lenny’s reactions to morphed bodies with wrinkle-free faces. **** Frank sat upright, fingering Lenny’s dossier folder. Without glancing at his notes, he said: “I know he’s a little odd, but Lenny was a good guy, is a good guy.” Frank looked to Roz. “He’s very smart… and he always helped others, and never hurt anyone. Frank played no role in hazing freshman, a tradition in our fucked-up high school.” Jerry interrupted Frank, turning in his chair like a bull with a hard-on for a matador, the feeling Frank had when Jerry’s hard cock had poked into him during their private meeting the previous Friday to explore Lenny’s personality. Jerry’s aggressive tone startled Frank. “I’m not sure what to make of the fact that Lenny never married. He says he straight, but is he ashamed of being gay? We don’t discriminate. Is Lenny an intolerant gay man? It happens, you know. For his generation –yours-- gays could act like straights.” Before answering, Frank sat back, Jerry’s barrel chest sucked oxygen, they way he had sucked Frank’s penis a few days before. “Well Jerry, he didn’t marry because Lenny was wedded to his job. And you may not have the imagination to understand that working on spacecraft, sending men and women to the moon, is a thrill. Maybe Lenny chose work over a woman. In high school, he studied more than mingled. But everyone liked him. Lenny would do anything for anyone. He confused the bullies because he never complained at their teasing, gave them his lunch money with a smile saying they probably need it more than him. Lenny was never prejudiced against any group. Maybe he’s a hermaphrodite –you’d find a way to enjoy that, wouldn’t you Jerry?” Roz tapped her fingers on the table, mumbling about Frank’s discourteous response. Frank scowled an apology. Roz waited for Frank’s breathing to settle before pointing to Dwayne for a comment. Dwayne, a six-three former detective, and Lenny’s official investigator, said with his deep-water cavern voice, “His former NASA colleagues confirm what Frank said.” Dwayne rested his chin on his fist, his forearm the size of a Roman plinth, his massive head motionless as his lips grappled with his tongue. Dwayne retained his New Jersey detective skills, and used former connections for favors rather than More to Life hackers accessing government computers; he preferred the old-fashion inside approach to illegally acquire private data. Uncovering latent homophobia was Dwayne’s trademark; he’d have known if Lenny hated gays. Dwayne had a particular disdain for closet gays because it reminded him of himself. He had grown up in the eighties, an unkind era, but worse for him as a gay African-American police officer. He still berated himself for being a coward, keeping his homosexuality a secret. Frank’s eyes focused on Dwayne’s twitching pecs poking through his fishnet shirt, the same one he had worn during their Saturday review of Lenny. Frank’s ass had saddled Dwayne’s balcony chest, his legs had dangled behind Dwayne’s ridged deltoids. Frank had commandeered Dwayne’s 747-size latissimi dorsi into an intense horizontal landing. They made notes between ejaculations. Lucy’s two cents came with her hand adjusting her breasts: “He’s cute too, and he’ll be even better once he’s in shape and loses the wrinkles.” Lucy liked gorgeous buff men, not bulkheads that suffocated her. She only required her men be hard in one place; her exact words while rating Frank’s cock for tensile hardness during their Sunday review of Lenny. Dwayne raised his hand like a traffic cop to Lucy. With a scowl, Lucy reacted: “He’s not yours yet, so pack those oversized muscles in a suitcase as you leave, Dwayne.” Dwayne stuck out his tongue, Lucy gave him the finger, and Roz groaned, a sound familiar to Frank. During their Monday discussion about committee procedures, Frank had taken the opportunity to review Lenny’s intelligence as a rocket scientist. Frank had launched past Roz’s clitoris, hearing her familiar moan with each full-blast thrust. The Saturday to Monday private encounters had given Frank confidence in a favorable decision. He had promised all three follow-up private sessions, should the committee give preliminary approval to Lenny. **** Frank cleared the table dishes, Lenny’s half-eaten meal evidence of his old man appetite. “Like it?” Frank held Lenny’s empty frappe glass. Frank spread a photo album on the table. The early pictures were of them in high school. Their youth made them laugh, although Frank didn’t look that much older. Viewing their toothpick legs in gym shorts nearly knocked them to the floor. A few pages later were wedding photos of Frank and Helen. She was beautiful, her wedding dress elegant. Frank asked Lenny why he missed the wedding. Lenny taped the date scrawled under the photo. “It was my first launch. I was so excited, and I’m sorry I never met Helen. What was she like?” Using the back of his hand, Frank rubbed his nose. Lenny apologized for asking. “No, that’s okay. Its just that I didn’t treat her well.” Frank revealed he’d neglected Helen, but had never cheated. “I was worse, I’d become indifferent.” There was no doubt after years Frank was more interested in the bottle than Helen. “I realized what I had lost when she died, and that I’d become an asshole.” The next photo showed him and Helen at the Grand Canyon. Frank looked like a cheese wheel, the top of his shorts hidden by a layered stomach overflowing like melted cheddar. Helen remained gorgeous, but her eyes had become sad. “I’m so sorry, Frank.” “Yeah, me too. It was a trip to celebrate our fifteenth anniversary. Helen died later that year of an embolism.” With Helen gone, Frank had become morose, leading to job loss, and depression. In four years, he had squandered Helen’s insurance policy, and he had stuffed two hundred ninety pounds on his five foot nine inch frame. Lenny thought Frank’s description disingenuous until he saw the next photo. A mummified face stared out topping an atmospheric balloon like those Lenny had sent up at NASA to gather meteorological data. He read the words scrawled under the photo: Mancuso Blimp. “That was taken the day I entered More to Life. Every new member has their photo taken the day they arrive. My doctor had given me a year to live, two max.” Fat Frank seemed to ooze onto the paper, a grease stain showing around the edges of the picture. “Keep this picture in front of you. I want to show you something, and…uh, this may seem …uh, maybe kinky, but believe me it is not, trust me.” The lines creased on Lenny’s forehead as Frank stood to unbutton his shirt. “Stay with me, Lenny. Its fine.” Lenny’s eyebrows reached his hairline watching Frank’s pectorals billow into the room, his areolae giant graffiti. His oversized chest pushed down his nipples so they pointed to his feet. “Jesus, I had no idea. I mean your arms are big but those are… incredible,” said Lenny who inhaled his words “Thanks.” Frank placed his shirt over the chair and turned around. Lenny imagined a V-shaped Yield Sign, Frank bent, his spine ridges visible. His pants flung upward. Lenny gripped the chair’s side arms. “Ready?” Frank walked to the room’s center, rolling on log legs. He wore a tiny bodybuilder’s posing suit. Lenny choked, and reached for his water. “Take it easy, Lenny. Its just a show.” “Frank, what have you done to yourself? Look at those legs…and…. Lenny nodded to Frank’s crotch. “I’m sorry, but that bulge...” Frank shook his right leg, the muscle flopped like a dishrag. As he tensed his leg, dewdrops formed, veins crisscrossed rice paper skin. Frank relaxed his thigh, to lift his left calf that evolved into a small surfboard. Lenny held the water to his lips, taking small sips between intakes of air. With a swift turn, Frank’s back flared. He pulled up the sides of his bikini poser, sinking it into his ass crack. Lenny choked, and Frank turned. Lenny waived okay. Tightening his glutes, vertical striations draped Frank’s ass. Lenny blurted out, “What the hell, that can’t be real?” Laughing as he turned to face Lenny, Frank adjusted his front pouch. “This too is real, but like I said, nothing kinky, so don’t worry I won’t be taking it out…not tonight.” Before Lenny could respond, Frank did a double bicep pose, and knelt in front of Lenny. “Feel them. Go ahead, crush them.” Lenny’s hands rested on each mound, then moved to Frank’s pectorals. Frank pointed to his Mancuso blimp picture. “Lenny, let’s take one of you. The committee has agreed to grant you a trial residency, and I’m sure you’ll be accepted. I meeting with everyone in the next few days.” “So, I was voted in this afternoon?” “Moe a consensus.” Frank’s eyes drifted to the ceiling. “So one meeting and the committee knew enough.” “No. I had separate meetings first to allay individual concerns.” Frank chuckled. “I can be persuasive.” Frank suggested they work on Lenny’s interview, but Lenny thought it a waste of time. There had to be others more deserving then him, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to join. The top of Frank’s lips rose. “I told the committee you always put others before yourself, and you still do.” The subject changed to Lenny’s health, which Lenny waved off. He lowered his head, and he saw Frank’s posers silhouetted with a mushroom headed rocket. Lenny gasped “Sorry, sometimes flexing makes me hard. And, it is bigger and harder than ever.” With flushed cheeks, Lenny circled his water glass on the table. “Don’t be embarrassed. More to Life means restored youth and strength, and more chance to live a complete life. To find new pleasures from a better body.” Frank paused. Lenny’s eyelids had closed. “You know, I had limited sexual experience before I married and after thirty-five sex ended for me. I’m not gay but—Frank’s hand swung around his upper torso— this has made me experiment. I want men to explore me… and women. I am constantly amazed at what I can do with such strength.” Frank’s face split by a wide grin. “You can’t imagine what it feels like to have the strength, the stamina, and the physique of Hercules. You’ll see.” From his vantage, all Lenny saw was Frank’s massive hard on. “I feel myself up. Do you know I masturbate twice a day, three if there’s time?” Frank’s pouch had lowered. Lenny blinked rapidly several times. “Sorry, too much, right?” Lenny nodded. “Why not explore alternative pleasures? Don’t rule it out.” A big, full-on tooth grin seeped across Franks’ face. With a short pause, Lenny wanted to known if there was anything besides sex and flexing muscles at More to Life. The response was ambiguous: plenty of intellectual activity but enough sinew to feed a pride of lions. “How can you really ignore this?” Frank’s bicep rocketed upward. Lenny’s glass stopped moving. He reached for Frank’s arm and said, “I don’t know what’s come over me. All day I’ve felt an increasing urge to massage your muscles. I’ve never felt like this and I haven’t even had the special meds.” Frank’s eye movement was nearly imperceptible. “What? You didn’t? Medication can’t act that fast.” “It doesn’t, not normally. Maybe because you had a double dose.” “What?” “A mistake. I gave you a pill in the morning. Todd phoned to say he fortified you too, not knowing about me. The frappe’s are enhancers, but pills are full doses—remember Todd and the Kidd? Todd and I worried about your quadruple bypass and —“ “Wait. How do you know about my bypass? What’s going on, Frank?” With the heel of his hand, Frank banged his forehead and groaned, Frank’s head rested on the table. “I’ve screwed this up. You were my first choice, too. Shit, I am so stupid.” Lenny stood to massage Frank’s shoulders, and felt he was kneading golf balls. “Don’t worry, please. You did what you thought right. And you’ve honored me with the invitation.” Hearing a grunt, Frank raised his head to see Lenny flexing. “I haven’t felt like this in years. Feel this.” Lenny moved his arm to Frank. Although he strained, there was no bulge in Lenny’s arm, just his same old loose-change bicep. “Oh, Lenny, you’re such a muscle hunk,” said Frank with a whispering laugh. The two men were still laughing as Frank’s poser stretched, his penis outline again visible. Lenny moved back and stopped laughing. “Frank stood and hugged Lenny. “Hey, this happens.” Wiping his lips, Lenny explained his last sex with a woman had been in his thirties, after that he had remained faithful to himself. Frank grinned like he’d eaten cheesecake, and Lenny remembered Frank did it three times daily. “Frank, its different for me. I have no desire for sex. I don’t need it, so I doubt I’d be of interest to anyone here.” Tapping Lenny’s head with his two fingers, then he pulled Lenny’s hand to his bulging posing suit. “Don’t be so sure, Lenny, we still have tomorrow.” **** The Call -Part I
  13. Cappy50

    The Call -Part I

    First post. Seeking critiques on characters, dialog, introductory paragraphs, and writing advice related to muscle stories. Thanks, "Who is this again, please?" This was Lenny Hause's telephone response to someone he didn't recognize. While the caller repeated their information he had time to write down their name and affiliation. “It’s Frank, Frank Mancuso. Don’t you remember Lenny? From high school.” “Frank. Oh my God, is that really you? ” Lenny stopped writing. “Yeah. I’m fine, how are you? ” “I’m good. Wow! How long has it been? Fourteen, fifteen years? ” “Twenty years, seven months, nine days. ” “What! That’s some memory. ” “Not really. I was searching Facebook related to high school classmates and your name popped up. The last time we met had been at our twenty-fifth high school reunion, and my last. We relived our glory days, well mine. You went on to bigger and better. ” Frank’s research had revealed Lenny retired from the Kennedy Space Center after thirty-five years as a space scientist. In asking Lenny about it, Frank learned his friend’s early retirement at sixty had been for health reasons. Frank commiserated. He too had had taken early retirement, at forty-six, but didn’t explain. Lenny recalled Frank’s raspy voice at the reunion, the only detail he remembered because he had been concerned it was a sign of throat cancer from Frank’s early smoking years. Was that his reason for taking early retirement? Yet, the person on the other end of the receiver sounded different —vigorous. Lenny didn’t have time for more thoughts as Frank proceeded with rapid-fire questions. Frank summarized his life: he had moved to More to Life Living Facility in St. Augustine about a fifteen-years ago. If only he’d known how close they were, he’d have visited Lenny at Cape Canaveral. Just as quickly as the banter had started, it stopped. Frank explained this wasn’t only a catch-up call, but also a recruitment call for Frank’s retirement facility. “I’d love to visit, Frank, but I’m not into group living. I like where I live. ” Lenny meant his home for the last thirty years on Cape Canaveral Island. “I’d be wasting your time. ” “No pressure, Lenny. If nothing else, we’d be old friends reuniting, I promise. But maybe you’ll be surprised. ” Frank’s voice trailed off. “As long as you are prepared for my thanks but no thanks. By the way, Frank, you sound…uh, I don’t know, different. What kind of cell phone do you have? ” “I’ll tell you when you get here. And plan to stay overnight as my guest. That’ll give us more time. Go to the reception center and May will call me when you arrive.” **** Staring as May offered him a beverage, Lenny blushed. May was a knockout, in her late twenties. Lenny thought the expression appropriate given May’s fortified breasts could do serious damage if anyone ran into them. May didn’t appear to notice his staring, yet Lenny lowered his head and quickly walked to the waiting lounge. Sitting in the armchair, Lenny thought everyone was young. He had anticipated the More to Life Living Facilities to be a standard retirement village, gathering no information from his Google search. This seemed a mixed community. A hand shook Lenny’s shoulder and he swiveled to see a stranger. “Hi Lenny, I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long? ” “Frank? Geez, is that you? ” Lenny stammered, looking at the man in a loose windsurfer jacket, baseball cap, light tan, and big grin with shinning teeth. Frank steadied Lenny by his elbow as he rose from the chair. “Yup, it's me. Great to see you and thanks for coming. ” They shook hands and Lenny grimaced as his knuckle cartilage cracked. “Ouch. ” “Oh, sorry, I get a little exuberant sometimes. “ Releasing Lenny’s hand, Frank stepped forward to give him a hug; Lenny grunted. “Geez, Frank. Have you been working out? Weren’t you concerned about your large waist at the reunion? You look younger. “ Frank smiled. “Let’s take a walk to the club house. ” Frank helped Lenny put on his Kennedy Space Center anorak that was needed for the late January chill. **** Disorientated, Lenny noted again the youthful, robust people power-walking along the pathway. Frank explained this was the outer circular drive, a favorite for walkers and joggers, with the club house a start and end point. Two trim young women jogged past, waving to Frank and called out, “Welcome, Lenny. ” “How do they know my name? ” “Everyone does. I spread the word an old high school buddy would be visiting. It’s part of our recruitment process. ” Aren’t they a bit young for you? Frank smiled, no teeth this time, but his lips thinned as they spread to each ear. “Come on Frank, what gives? ” **** Inside the clubhouse, Lenny sat at a table while Frank carried over their drinks. A coffee with cream and sugar for Lenny, and a glass of cloudy, pink substance for himself, which Lenny guessed was a strawberry frappe. “So, what’s up? ” Before answering, Frank removed his jacket, sat adjacent to Lenny, and placed his hands behind his neck, as if relaxing on a beach chair. Lenny’s eyes widened. Two biceps ballooned Frank’s short-sleeve shirt, his lats stretching the mixed cotton-nylon fabric. “Yeah, pretty big, huh? That’s what I want to talk to you about. Look, feel this. ” Frank placed an arm on the table, then flexed. Lenny stared. “Touch it. It won’t hurt. ” Lenny extended two fingers to the top of Frank’s arm, lightly skimming across a vein on the rock-hard surface. “No, Lenny, not like that. Don’t you remember how we did it in high school? You put your entire hand over the bicep and squeeze, like you want to make juice from an orange. ‘Crush the muscle,’ that’s what we’d said. ” Lenny’s hand spread across the mound. He made no dent in the hardened mass. Crushing was not an option. Lenny’s mouth gaped, his eyes fixed on the mini-boulder arm. “Now I’ll explain. ” **** The explanation was unbelievable, a fantasy story. Lenny was a Ph. D. rocket scientist, not MD, but he knew enough. This wasn’t possible. Frank’s explanation of a miracle solution, a strength and youth enhance was too far-fetched. And why didn’t everyone know about it? Why the secrecy? “Not a secret, Lenny, just not approved by FDA or anyone else. The inventor, Doctor Richter, a biochemist with degrees from Harvard and Stamford, worked this out. He had worked at a big pharmaceutical in California when he discovered this formula, an accidental discovery. He presented his finding to the project leader and was told it didn’t fit their product line, shorthand to say they didn’t see insurance or Medicaid paying for youth enhancing supplements. There would not be enough private patients who could afforded the hundred-thousand a year either, the estimated price tag to cover the government required testing and approval process plus profit. So Doc Richter left the company and perfected the formula using both animals then volunteers, but not under FDA protocol.” Lenny’s gasped. “Lenny, you could expose us, but what would you gain? Besides, I know you’re not that kind of person, which is why I invited you and not others. ” A yarn was a yarn, thought Lenny. He looked at the young people walking by, then at his super fit friend. This had to be staged. Frank’s waist reduction was probably from liposuction, his youthful eyes and face from plastic surgery, and basic weight lifting, maybe steroids, and a personal trainer gave Frank his physique. No modern-day elixir was needed to explain Frank’s musculature. With Lenny’s last thought, a shadow blocked the sunlight behind his back. “Hi Jon, just in time,” said Frank. “Join us. ” The shadow moved, turned into a mountain, and sat next to Lenny. “Lenny, let me introduce you to Jon Gravinore. Jon, this is my old high school friend Lenny. ” Jon extended his hand to Lenny. If Frank’s handshake had been a nutcracker, Jon’s was a vice. Tears formed in Lenny’s eyes. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Lenny. I forget myself. ” Frank nodded at Jon. “Me too. That’s Lenny’s second dose. I think I’ll tell everyone to avoid the handshaking formality. ” Like Frank had done, Jon put one arm on the table. “Lenny, I know this will seem weird, but I want to show you something. ” Jon flexed his arm, and if Frank’s had formed a small bulb this was bowling ball. Jon lowered his arm then raised it again, the muscle rising higher. He did this once more, this time Jon grimaced as he strained. On top of the first bicep mounded a smaller that split with a crevice down the center. Jon was holding his breath, so Frank spoke for him. “Lenny, that’s twenty-one inches. Feel it. ” This was getting too much for Lenny. Twice in a half-hour he’d been asked to feel another man’s muscle. Who were these people? Lenny hesitated. “Go ahead,” Frank said with a harsh tone. “Jon can’t hold it much longer. ” Recalling Frank’s earlier instruction, Lenny placed his entire hand over Jon’s top peak, barely covering one-third of the bicep. This wasn’t Frank’s rock hard muscle, this was titanium, like the rockets Lenny had helped launch. Exhaling, Jon released his arm. “Now, let me feel yours. ” Jon’s large hand surrounded Lenny’s relaxed arm. He squeezed until he touched bone. Lenny tried to flex, but all he could produce was loose flour in a burlap sack. “How old are you Lenny? ” asked Jon. “Sixty-two next month. ” “I’m sixty-eight. ” Jon produced his wallet and fished out his driver’s license. Numbers didn’t lie. Frank took out his too. Showed him sixty-three, older than Lenny; in high school Lenny had teased Frank for being seven months older, calling him the “old man. ” Lenny shook his head. Frank said, “They’re not fakes, if that’s what you’re thinking. We really are the ages printed. You know mine’s true. This is real, Lenny, as real as it gets. ” During Franks’ explanation, Jon produced another license, with the imprint Jon Wainwright, age thirty-seven. “Yes, we have fakes too, for when we are on the outside. “ Jon curled two fingers of both hands as he spoke. Lenny’s head tilted. Jon explained going outside meant leaving More to Life grounds. People thought the real ID’s faked, and became suspicious. But more important, should the FDA or another agency visit More to Life they were covered. Lenny didn’t see how they could do this. “Simple, Lenny,” said Frank, taking over from Jon. “All this is possible because Doc Richter had close friends in high-tech, the original hackers back at the start of the Internet. In particular, two wiz-kid that later became millionaires from a now famous software company. They had helped fund the original More to Life Living Facility, along with a select handful of older people. More to Life started modest, nothing like it resembles today. ” The rest of the story revealed the transition from old-school hacking into records to use identities of people no longer in need of an identity that was reassigned to one of the residents. Lenny noted Jon’s ID had his first name and thought that the chances of matching every resident's first name slim. With a trill in his voice, Frank patted Lenny’s arm. “Oh, Lenny, we’re more sophisticated now —our modern techies give birth, so to speak. We invent new people with social security numbers, bank accounts, and work history. Then we assign a resident’s real first name to minimize slip-ups. But its still based on the original hackers protocol. You’ll have a chance to meet William, one of the surviving techies, who’s still around at ninety, although he hardly looks over fifty. ” The discussion turned to the past. Jon gave a recap of his life, but the gist was More to Life prevented him from dying a lonely, broken-down old man. As he rose to leave, he leaned over giving Lenny’s arm a small squeeze. “It’s never too late. We’ll build these up in no time. ” Lenny stared at Frank, who shrugged. No sooner had Jon left then May from the front desk took his place at the table. She sat down like a dancer, which it turns out she had been in her youth. Lenny learned May was sixty-six, not twenty-six. May was no pushover, displaying her sinewy arms. Yet her creamy skin, saucer eyes, and golden smile made any man do anything she asked, no power necessary; and she did have Wonder Woman tits. “Look honey, It's not politically correct, but stare at them. I know you did at the desk. I won’t fault you for it. A girl’s got to take flattery when she can. And, Lenny, they are real. I never needed to go silicone. But now they stand up all on their own. I’m toned all over, but you’re not ready for that, not yet. ” May laughed. “Here, feel this. ” And like Jon, May flexed her arm, producing an egg bubble. By now Lenny knew the drill, so he squeezed, confident he’d make some impact, which turned out to be overconfidence. “My turn now, Lenny. Rather than take Lenny’s arm, she leaned over, took hold of the back of his neck, pulled him forward and gave him a kiss on his lips, her tongue sliding forward. ” “Cut it out, May. Lenny’s my guest. ” “Hey, you bring a newbie onto the dance floor we’ve got to tango. And I like Lenny’s moves. ” As May walked away, swiveling her hips, Lenny took deep breaths, massaged his hand, and shuffled his jaw. Did he have the stamina to last through the rest of the day? And what was in store for the night? He needed his medicine.
  14. Cappy50

    The Call -Part II

    The Call -Part I: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/6130-the-call-part-i/ The Call –Part II Strolling the golf course’s edge, Frank held Lenny’s elbow as he told him about the invitation to join More to Life. Lenny was surprised, even with Frank’s cold call and invitation to visit overnight. “How can there be an opening with everyone so healthy and strong.” “We’re not immortal. No vampires here, Lenny. We die. The most recent was a woman volunteering at an Ebola clinic in Africa. We have accidents, cancers, although rare, and everything else. Heart attacks remain the popular way to go. Men average ninety-two years and women ninety-eight. Our oldest resident is Ruth at one hundred and five and looks not a day over sixty. There are thirty centenarians among our six hundred residents. Plans to double the facility in five years has everyone worried; a drastic change to the recruitment process.” Lenny stopped walking. “And why me?” Frank faced Lenny. “Because besides my wife, no one was ever as good to me as you.” Lenny blinked. **** A sign identified the modern, tinted glass building with a triangular entrance as the More to Life Holistic Center –a gym. Lenny stopped, unsure he wanted to go further down the rabbit hole. Frank nudged Lenny. A man behind the glistening marble front desk waved Frank to a side office. The room’s glass wall faced the weight training area. Frank moved Lenny to the window, giving him a full view of the half-acre. Mirrors covered the four walls. Half-mirrored structures subdivided the main floor into parcels: aerobic area, belted machines, and free-weights, which had the largest footprint. Buff men and women navigated the muscle launch pads. Men swayed with the weights they hauled, the women’s thighs were shopping bags filled with stones. Lenny’s jaw ached from gapping —and the thought of May’s kiss. A noise from behind startled Lenny; seeing the mammoth in the room shocked him. ‘Lenny, meet Todd Gimble, the biggest and strongest among us. Todd, this is my friend Lenny.” A USDA stuffed canvas at six two and two hundred and fifty pounds direct from Costco stuck out a hand. Lenny looked at his own hand, then Todd’s shovel. Todd laughed, and fist bumped Lenny’s shoulder, sending a thousand volts down his arm. “Sorry, man, I keep forgetting my strength,” said Todd producing a double bicep flex that blurred Lenny’s vision. Two humps rose above Todd’s ears. Honeycomb shoulders acted as slopes to the high peaked biceps. “Go ahead Lenny, give them a feel. That’s what we do here.” Todd’s head turned to each bicep, as if he didn’t know how they appeared. Frank moved next to Lenny. “I know, the flexing and touching seems strange, but big men like Todd thrive on confirmation.” Stepping in front of Lenny, Frank placed one hand over the upper portion of Todd’s right arm while pointing to Todd’s left. Lenny’s hand landed on molecule thin skin splayed over veins layered on a bicep so big it needed a room of its own. Lenny’s fingers crisscrossed the Interstate of veins, with blood pulsing at sixty-miles per hour porting oxygen up the muscle mountain. “Twenty-two inches, Lenny. You should have seen me when I retired. A fucking plump, overripe tomato.” Todd puffed out his checks, and then burst into laughter. “That’s BS.” Frank shook his head and chuckled. “Todd looks this way because he arrived big. He played college ball and the NFL drafted him his junior year. A blown out knee is the only reason you don’t own a team jerseys with Todd’s name.” The rest of the story was predictable: drink, depression, and inactivity. At forty-five Todd had layers of fat, but never a squish tomato. Lifting his shorts, Todd’s pillar legs dwarfed his upper body. His veins compared to the Floridian canals, like those Lenny had once spent paddling before he’d become ill. Todd tensed his right leg causing a muscle eruption, the kind meant to crack tundra. Frank knelt, motioning Lenny to follow. There was enough landscape for both their hands; or to lie down and take naps. Lenny explored the outer thigh, his hand scraped along the angry central dewdrop muscle that pushed the other sinew outward. He could hear Todd, but had no sight of his head. Todd shouted Latin names as Lenny’s hand moved along the leg’s surface. Using Todd’s leg as a handrail, Lenny steadied himself to stand. Without warning, Todd took hold of Lenny under his armpits to jettison him into the air and catch him on his way down. **** Todd called out names and ages as part of Lenny’s tour of the holistic facility. Lenny thought it a joke. He saw no correspondence with the faces and bodies to the ages. Everyone wished Lenny well; a few flexed. They stopped in front of a woman identified as Shareen, sixty-nine, but appeared to be in her late-thirties. She was squatting with two hundred pounds on her shoulders. Todd’s steadied her last rep with a hand on her back. “Hey, Shareen,” Todd said with a trill, “Shall we show Lenny our squat variation?” Shareen giggled, her legs spread, stretching Lycra pants to emphasize her grapefruit rear-end. Todd placed the barbell behind her neck then knelt in front. Shareen mounted his shoulders. Once secured, Todd duck-waddled to grab another two hundred pound barbell. Shareen lifted her legs, allowing Todd to rest the barbell on his chest’s upper shelf. Todd squatted for ten repetitious. On dismount, Shareen repeated her signature giggle, and rubbed Todd’s shoulders. “See you later, Toddie?” Touching two fingers to her lips, she rubbed them across Todd’s cheek. Lenny thought Todd in his mid-thirties, but asked anyway. Todd inflated his biblical chest to sing out his coming seventieth birthday. Lenny blinked, seeing muscles draped on a young man, and a liar. The parade resumed. Lenny observed flexing; women’s bosoms pushed workout bras beyond manufacturer’s limits. Bare-chested men ignored sweat channeling down muscular ridges as they bounced their pecs. Todd opened an inlaid door that blended into the wall. The inner room was thirty feet on a side. Mirrors ran from floor-to-ceiling. The dumbbells ranged from five pounds to two hundred, and preloaded barbells went higher than Lenny thought practical. Jamal stood in the middle of the room, alone. Lenny thought Jamal the youngest of anyone so far and he was correct on two scores: Jamal’s body and face fit a twenty-year-old, and his real age at fifty-two made him the current youngest resident. His body resembled a pro bodybuilder. Jamal curled a barbell hijacked from a semi-trailer axle. Lenny tried not to focus on Jamal’s small posing suit; a suit so tight the imprint of his genitals was visible. The barbell clanged on release. Jamal adjusted his poser, shifting his penis to a new position. He greeted Todd with a punch to his shoulder. Todd feigned injury. Jamal bellowed like Tarzan while pounding his chest. As if required, Jamal started a posing routine that lasted two minutes. Muscles popped, cinema style. Lenny felt dizzy, suffocated by the reflecting muscle in the mirrors. Turning one-eighty degrees, Jamal’s back flared supertanker wide. His flared muscles busted the sound barrier. “What do you think, Todd? Am I getting there?” Frank nudged Lenny, leaving Todd alone with Jamal. Outside the room, Frank explained that Todd trained Jamal for the upcoming More to Life’s bodybuilding competition. Members were not permitted to enter outside events, so they started their own. But members were encouraged to attend contests and record them. The More to Life technical crew projected the videos onto large screens: life size and 3-D. “Don’t’ ask me how they do it?” said Frank in monotone. Frank continued his explanation. More to Life members posed next to the on-screen contestants. The judges compared members with the video contestants. So far a More to Life member won every time. Frank swore it wasn’t rigged. The members really were bigger, better proportioned, and more ripped. Lowering his voice, Frank told Lenny that Todd’s interest went further than training bodybuilders. Frank put a finger to his lips, seeing Todd come out of the posing room. Todd laughed, throwing his arm around Lenny’s neck, the gravity strength pulled Lenny‘s head to the nadir of Todd’s nipples. “Don’t worry, Lenny, I expected Frank would tell you my secret.” Todd laughed and grabbed his crotch. Frank shook his head hard. “Fine, I’ll stop. Now, go on, tell our story.” This was their story because Frank had played a roll. One day, off campus, they had purchase guest passes at a local gym. They often did this, getting a kick teasing townies by tossing around vast amounts of weights. During this visit, Todd saw a young man, late teens or early twenties, with terrible training form --wasted effort. Todd removed his shirt and started to pose near Kidd —Todd’s nickname for the man. Todd waited until Kidd noticed, which didn’t take long. In no time the two spotted each other. Todd kept his poundage lower than Kidd’s, not wanting to embarrass him. Kidd became overconfident, and challenged Todd to an arm-wrestling contest. Frank officiated and half the club observed. Todd pretended to struggle, but his rising three-scoop bicep gave the game away before it finished. As consolation, Todd whispered to Kidd while holding him in a bear hug that he’d take him to dinner as consolation. Frank stopped talking, tilting his head to Todd. “I’ll finish. So, Lenny, I hope this doesn’t embarrass you, but I have an attraction to young male muscle, if you get my drift. I have since college.” Lenny’s lips pursed, whispering Shareen’s name to Frank, but Todd heard and laughed. “Shareen, the squat lady?” Todd laughed again. “We’re just friends. Sometimes we hook up. A few other women too, but they’re not my first choice. I’m just doing my duty to share the muscle.” Frank waived at Todd. “Too much bragging? Okay, so to continue, Kidd and I had fun at his place and still do. He was buff then but you should see him now.” Todd flexed his arm while he hovered his hand over his bicep, indicating a growing mound. “Before I left Kidd that night I had emptied several packets of our special brew into the his protein shake. Two days later Kidd called to report a jump in weight and size. He thought it a result of my training advice.” Frank broke in. “The formula has a bigger impact the younger the person, but no one here is under forty-five, so how much on early twenties or younger is unknown. Jamal’s the nearest test case. The biochemists don’t want to try any younger.” Todd shook his ahead. “I would be severely reprimanded if anyone found out. But only Frank knows. Oops, I guess you do too. I broke the rule only once, I promise. So what?” Frank rubbed one index finger over another. “Come on Frank, you always follow the rules?” Frank put his right hand on his heart, raising the palm of his left hand upright. “Yeah, right. Anyway, Kidd has worked hard. I’ve been to contests with him and he’ll get a pro card in a few years, before he’s thirty. He took first place at the Junior Mister Florida at twenty-four.” Before Todd started on another story, Frank interrupted to say he had a meeting and he would meet Lenny at the clubhouse. Todd smiled. “Don’t worry, Frank, I’ll get him there, even if I have to carry him.” Lenny grimaced. “I’m kidding.” The tour continued to another room behind the big glass wall. Several men and woman were posing. Lenny eyes widened at what he thought a muscle truck stop; anywhere he looked he saw bulging sacks unloading. Todd moved Lenny to another door, but it was locked. "Occupied." Todd smiled with cheekbones pushing his flared nose. “This room is like the last but has a table, a couch, a few chairs, a trampoline, and two swings hung from the ceiling. It’s men only and that…” Todd pointed to an adjacent room, “that’s women only. Across the floor is an identical coed room. That’s were I’ll meet Shareen.” Todd gyrated two hands under his massive breasts and twirled his nipples. Lenny shrugged, so Todd continued. “These are different kind of posing rooms. When the doors locked, its a private session.” Todd winked. There was no change in Lenny’s facial expression. “Let me spell it out. In the last room people posed in contest suits. In here they don their birthday suits. And muscle exploration isn’t only with hands.” … “Do you understand, Lenny?” … “I’ll assume you do. I’ve told you this so you know everything about More to Life for your decision. There are no restrictions or judgments on people’s behavior. There’s more to life, get it?” Lenny throat seeped air. “Is it obligatory?” “Hell, no. Not every member goes in for this, but you’d be surprised how many do. Most people start off saying its not for them, until they gain massive amounts of muscle. They become curious about what big muscle can do besides pump iron.” This ended Lenny’s tour and he needed a break. Todd slugged his frappe in a gulp, and then waited as Lenny stared into his pink frappe. Lenny wanted to skip the meeting. He would have preferred to return to Frank’s house. He didn’t tell Todd he knew this wasn’t for him, and he didn’t need to see anymore. He shivered at the thought of being groped. He didn’t like people’s touching him. Lenny closed his eyes, an attempt to eradicate the tour’s muscle saturated images, and especially Jamal’s penis-imprinted posing suit. Todd’s finger with the force of a ball-peen hammer tapped Lenny’s shoulder. “We better go, or we’ll be late” A chill seeped down Lenny’s spine. He felt like a small child walking next to Todd. As two big buff young bodies stopped to talk, Lenny thought this constituted a crowd. Lenny’s mass had no impact on the sidewalk acreage. He folded his arms upon entering the clubhouse. He had made his decision. ****
  15. Cappy50

    The Call -Part I

    First post. Seeking critiques on characters, dialog, introductory paragraphs, and writing advice related to muscle stories. Thanks, "Who is this again, please?" This was Lenny Hause's telephone response to someone he didn't recognize. While the caller repeated their information he had time to write down their name and affiliation. “It’s Frank, Frank Mancuso. Don’t you remember Lenny? From high school.” “Frank. Oh my God, is that really you? ” Lenny stopped writing. “Yeah. I’m fine, how are you? ” “I’m good. Wow! How long has it been? Fourteen, fifteen years? ” “Twenty years, seven months, nine days. ” “What! That’s some memory. ” “Not really. I was searching Facebook related to high school classmates and your name popped up. The last time we met had been at our twenty-fifth high school reunion, and my last. We relived our glory days, well mine. You went on to bigger and better. ” Frank’s research had revealed Lenny retired from the Kennedy Space Center after thirty-five years as a space scientist. In asking Lenny about it, Frank learned his friend’s early retirement at sixty had been for health reasons. Frank commiserated. He too had had taken early retirement, at forty-six, but didn’t explain. Lenny recalled Frank’s raspy voice at the reunion, the only detail he remembered because he had been concerned it was a sign of throat cancer from Frank’s early smoking years. Was that his reason for taking early retirement? Yet, the person on the other end of the receiver sounded different —vigorous. Lenny didn’t have time for more thoughts as Frank proceeded with rapid-fire questions. Frank summarized his life: he had moved to More to Life Living Facility in St. Augustine about a fifteen-years ago. If only he’d known how close they were, he’d have visited Lenny at Cape Canaveral. Just as quickly as the banter had started, it stopped. Frank explained this wasn’t only a catch-up call, but also a recruitment call for Frank’s retirement facility. “I’d love to visit, Frank, but I’m not into group living. I like where I live. ” Lenny meant his home for the last thirty years on Cape Canaveral Island. “I’d be wasting your time. ” “No pressure, Lenny. If nothing else, we’d be old friends reuniting, I promise. But maybe you’ll be surprised. ” Frank’s voice trailed off. “As long as you are prepared for my thanks but no thanks. By the way, Frank, you sound…uh, I don’t know, different. What kind of cell phone do you have? ” “I’ll tell you when you get here. And plan to stay overnight as my guest. That’ll give us more time. Go to the reception center and May will call me when you arrive.” **** Staring as May offered him a beverage, Lenny blushed. May was a knockout, in her late twenties. Lenny thought the expression appropriate given May’s fortified breasts could do serious damage if anyone ran into them. May didn’t appear to notice his staring, yet Lenny lowered his head and quickly walked to the waiting lounge. Sitting in the armchair, Lenny thought everyone was young. He had anticipated the More to Life Living Facilities to be a standard retirement village, gathering no information from his Google search. This seemed a mixed community. A hand shook Lenny’s shoulder and he swiveled to see a stranger. “Hi Lenny, I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long? ” “Frank? Geez, is that you? ” Lenny stammered, looking at the man in a loose windsurfer jacket, baseball cap, light tan, and big grin with shinning teeth. Frank steadied Lenny by his elbow as he rose from the chair. “Yup, it's me. Great to see you and thanks for coming. ” They shook hands and Lenny grimaced as his knuckle cartilage cracked. “Ouch. ” “Oh, sorry, I get a little exuberant sometimes. “ Releasing Lenny’s hand, Frank stepped forward to give him a hug; Lenny grunted. “Geez, Frank. Have you been working out? Weren’t you concerned about your large waist at the reunion? You look younger. “ Frank smiled. “Let’s take a walk to the club house. ” Frank helped Lenny put on his Kennedy Space Center anorak that was needed for the late January chill. **** Disorientated, Lenny noted again the youthful, robust people power-walking along the pathway. Frank explained this was the outer circular drive, a favorite for walkers and joggers, with the club house a start and end point. Two trim young women jogged past, waving to Frank and called out, “Welcome, Lenny. ” “How do they know my name? ” “Everyone does. I spread the word an old high school buddy would be visiting. It’s part of our recruitment process. ” Aren’t they a bit young for you? Frank smiled, no teeth this time, but his lips thinned as they spread to each ear. “Come on Frank, what gives? ” **** Inside the clubhouse, Lenny sat at a table while Frank carried over their drinks. A coffee with cream and sugar for Lenny, and a glass of cloudy, pink substance for himself, which Lenny guessed was a strawberry frappe. “So, what’s up? ” Before answering, Frank removed his jacket, sat adjacent to Lenny, and placed his hands behind his neck, as if relaxing on a beach chair. Lenny’s eyes widened. Two biceps ballooned Frank’s short-sleeve shirt, his lats stretching the mixed cotton-nylon fabric. “Yeah, pretty big, huh? That’s what I want to talk to you about. Look, feel this. ” Frank placed an arm on the table, then flexed. Lenny stared. “Touch it. It won’t hurt. ” Lenny extended two fingers to the top of Frank’s arm, lightly skimming across a vein on the rock-hard surface. “No, Lenny, not like that. Don’t you remember how we did it in high school? You put your entire hand over the bicep and squeeze, like you want to make juice from an orange. ‘Crush the muscle,’ that’s what we’d said. ” Lenny’s hand spread across the mound. He made no dent in the hardened mass. Crushing was not an option. Lenny’s mouth gaped, his eyes fixed on the mini-boulder arm. “Now I’ll explain. ” **** The explanation was unbelievable, a fantasy story. Lenny was a Ph. D. rocket scientist, not MD, but he knew enough. This wasn’t possible. Frank’s explanation of a miracle solution, a strength and youth enhance was too far-fetched. And why didn’t everyone know about it? Why the secrecy? “Not a secret, Lenny, just not approved by FDA or anyone else. The inventor, Doctor Richter, a biochemist with degrees from Harvard and Stamford, worked this out. He had worked at a big pharmaceutical in California when he discovered this formula, an accidental discovery. He presented his finding to the project leader and was told it didn’t fit their product line, shorthand to say they didn’t see insurance or Medicaid paying for youth enhancing supplements. There would not be enough private patients who could afforded the hundred-thousand a year either, the estimated price tag to cover the government required testing and approval process plus profit. So Doc Richter left the company and perfected the formula using both animals then volunteers, but not under FDA protocol.” Lenny’s gasped. “Lenny, you could expose us, but what would you gain? Besides, I know you’re not that kind of person, which is why I invited you and not others. ” A yarn was a yarn, thought Lenny. He looked at the young people walking by, then at his super fit friend. This had to be staged. Frank’s waist reduction was probably from liposuction, his youthful eyes and face from plastic surgery, and basic weight lifting, maybe steroids, and a personal trainer gave Frank his physique. No modern-day elixir was needed to explain Frank’s musculature. With Lenny’s last thought, a shadow blocked the sunlight behind his back. “Hi Jon, just in time,” said Frank. “Join us. ” The shadow moved, turned into a mountain, and sat next to Lenny. “Lenny, let me introduce you to Jon Gravinore. Jon, this is my old high school friend Lenny. ” Jon extended his hand to Lenny. If Frank’s handshake had been a nutcracker, Jon’s was a vice. Tears formed in Lenny’s eyes. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Lenny. I forget myself. ” Frank nodded at Jon. “Me too. That’s Lenny’s second dose. I think I’ll tell everyone to avoid the handshaking formality. ” Like Frank had done, Jon put one arm on the table. “Lenny, I know this will seem weird, but I want to show you something. ” Jon flexed his arm, and if Frank’s had formed a small bulb this was bowling ball. Jon lowered his arm then raised it again, the muscle rising higher. He did this once more, this time Jon grimaced as he strained. On top of the first bicep mounded a smaller that split with a crevice down the center. Jon was holding his breath, so Frank spoke for him. “Lenny, that’s twenty-one inches. Feel it. ” This was getting too much for Lenny. Twice in a half-hour he’d been asked to feel another man’s muscle. Who were these people? Lenny hesitated. “Go ahead,” Frank said with a harsh tone. “Jon can’t hold it much longer. ” Recalling Frank’s earlier instruction, Lenny placed his entire hand over Jon’s top peak, barely covering one-third of the bicep. This wasn’t Frank’s rock hard muscle, this was titanium, like the rockets Lenny had helped launch. Exhaling, Jon released his arm. “Now, let me feel yours. ” Jon’s large hand surrounded Lenny’s relaxed arm. He squeezed until he touched bone. Lenny tried to flex, but all he could produce was loose flour in a burlap sack. “How old are you Lenny? ” asked Jon. “Sixty-two next month. ” “I’m sixty-eight. ” Jon produced his wallet and fished out his driver’s license. Numbers didn’t lie. Frank took out his too. Showed him sixty-three, older than Lenny; in high school Lenny had teased Frank for being seven months older, calling him the “old man. ” Lenny shook his head. Frank said, “They’re not fakes, if that’s what you’re thinking. We really are the ages printed. You know mine’s true. This is real, Lenny, as real as it gets. ” During Franks’ explanation, Jon produced another license, with the imprint Jon Wainwright, age thirty-seven. “Yes, we have fakes too, for when we are on the outside. “ Jon curled two fingers of both hands as he spoke. Lenny’s head tilted. Jon explained going outside meant leaving More to Life grounds. People thought the real ID’s faked, and became suspicious. But more important, should the FDA or another agency visit More to Life they were covered. Lenny didn’t see how they could do this. “Simple, Lenny,” said Frank, taking over from Jon. “All this is possible because Doc Richter had close friends in high-tech, the original hackers back at the start of the Internet. In particular, two wiz-kid that later became millionaires from a now famous software company. They had helped fund the original More to Life Living Facility, along with a select handful of older people. More to Life started modest, nothing like it resembles today. ” The rest of the story revealed the transition from old-school hacking into records to use identities of people no longer in need of an identity that was reassigned to one of the residents. Lenny noted Jon’s ID had his first name and thought that the chances of matching every resident's first name slim. With a trill in his voice, Frank patted Lenny’s arm. “Oh, Lenny, we’re more sophisticated now —our modern techies give birth, so to speak. We invent new people with social security numbers, bank accounts, and work history. Then we assign a resident’s real first name to minimize slip-ups. But its still based on the original hackers protocol. You’ll have a chance to meet William, one of the surviving techies, who’s still around at ninety, although he hardly looks over fifty. ” The discussion turned to the past. Jon gave a recap of his life, but the gist was More to Life prevented him from dying a lonely, broken-down old man. As he rose to leave, he leaned over giving Lenny’s arm a small squeeze. “It’s never too late. We’ll build these up in no time. ” Lenny stared at Frank, who shrugged. No sooner had Jon left then May from the front desk took his place at the table. She sat down like a dancer, which it turns out she had been in her youth. Lenny learned May was sixty-six, not twenty-six. May was no pushover, displaying her sinewy arms. Yet her creamy skin, saucer eyes, and golden smile made any man do anything she asked, no power necessary; and she did have Wonder Woman tits. “Look honey, It's not politically correct, but stare at them. I know you did at the desk. I won’t fault you for it. A girl’s got to take flattery when she can. And, Lenny, they are real. I never needed to go silicone. But now they stand up all on their own. I’m toned all over, but you’re not ready for that, not yet. ” May laughed. “Here, feel this. ” And like Jon, May flexed her arm, producing an egg bubble. By now Lenny knew the drill, so he squeezed, confident he’d make some impact, which turned out to be overconfidence. “My turn now, Lenny. Rather than take Lenny’s arm, she leaned over, took hold of the back of his neck, pulled him forward and gave him a kiss on his lips, her tongue sliding forward. ” “Cut it out, May. Lenny’s my guest. ” “Hey, you bring a newbie onto the dance floor we’ve got to tango. And I like Lenny’s moves. ” As May walked away, swiveling her hips, Lenny took deep breaths, massaged his hand, and shuffled his jaw. Did he have the stamina to last through the rest of the day? And what was in store for the night? He needed his medicine.
  16. Hey guys, me again. Bit of a long chapter but a lot certainly happens. Enjoy, comment and all that stuff. Chapter One Chapter Two Chapters Three and Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapters Seven and Eight Chapter Nine Hard Mountain - Chapter Ten: The forest at the base had been uneventful and the incline up began to increase. I'd managed to find a trail that seemed to lead upwards. When I reached a clearing I would plant a stick in the ground to measure time. It was getting into the afternoon now and the sun was still very warm. My feet were aching, I kept standing on stones and my blisters were only getting worse. The slightly mossy brush disappeared once I'd left the forest so I was walking on mostly dirt and rocks. The path wound left and right, growing steeper and steeper. My legs burned but I kept going; if I stopped now then I would never get going again. Eventually the path began to level out and stopped as I reached the mouth of a cave. I couldn't see anywhere else to go except inside, the side of the mountain was very steep so without proper equipment there was no way up. I entered the cave and it was pitch black, I held my hand next to the wall to guide me forward. There were no forks in the road but it wound left and right. I had no perception of time in the darkness and I was going forward very slowly so I didn't stumble. I started to shiver as the temperature dropped the further in I walked. Occasionally I'd jump as an ice-cold drop of water hit me from above, blind as to its source in the darkness. I had no clue how high the cave was but I never came across any stalactites to bash my head into. A dim light started to come into view as I edged around a corner and the path started to illuminate the closer I got. I came out into a larger cave with a pool of water in the middle, much like the one I had visited with Jack and Danny. There was a large opening above where the light of the early evening sun shone through, casting a reddish glow around the cave. On the other side of the pool was a set of stone steps that looked like they had been carved into the rock face that led upwards and, I guessed, outside. The shore of the pool where I stood only stretched about twelve foot by six and the cave walls were smooth so there was only one way forward, through the water. I dipped a toe in and remarked at how warm the water felt. I waded in and the water never went higher than my waist. It was certainly refreshing after walking in the freezing cold for so long and the bed was smooth underfoot. As I reached the middle I felt a gust of wind start to swirl around me, and the water started to ripple a few feet in front of me. A pale, sickly-looking and hairless figure in a hospital gown rose up from the water. I recognised him instantly and my throat choked up. The hollowed out eyes and gaunt, sallow face staring at me with sorrow, pain and disappointment. I tried to turn back but something had stuck my feet to the bed of the pool and I was failing to hold back my tears. The figure was stumbling towards me, the water splashing with each of its laborious steps. I was crying, sobbing loudly, trying to look anywhere but at him. “No!” I screamed. “No! You aren’t real! YOU’RE NOT HIM!” “I am,” he said. “Please… Sammy…” “NO!” I cried. “Make it stop… make it stop…” “Why do you hate me, Sammy?” he asked. “Why do you hate your father?” “BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T STRONG ENOUGH!” I screamed, blood boiling and my face growing red with an explosive rage. “YOU GAVE UP! YOU FUCKING GAVE UP! YOU SAID YOU WOULD ALWAYS BE STRONG BUT YOU WEREN’T! YOU LIED TO ME! You… you… Why did you leave me?” The figure never answered, it fell face first into the water and the haunting sound of a flat heart monitor echoed in the cave. I ran to the figure and pulled them into my arms. “No, no, no, no, no,” I whispered. “Don’t go, keep fighting Dad. Please!” I felt like I was six years old all over again, back in the hospital the day he died. We were both pulled under the water, but I found myself back in my house. “Hey!” said a familiar voice. “I’m home!” “DADDY!” said another familiar voice. A young boy of about three ran past me as a man entered the room. I felt my throat close up as I remembered where this was. Reaching down to pick up the boy was a broad shouldered, muscular man in a fire fighters uniform. The man was my father, before he was sick. He was thick chested, wide-shouldered, strong-armed and had a handsome, scruffy face. The younger version of me was in his arms, almost strangling him as I hugged him as tight a young kid could. “Did you save lotsa people?” I asked. “Not today, but I did help a cat that got stuck up a tree,” said Dad. “Yay!” I cheered, kissing him on the cheek. “Would you save me if I was stuck up a tree?” My Dad chuckled. “Of course, I’ll always get you out of trouble Sammy.” My Mom came in and Dad put me down, pulling Mom in close as his hands rested on her waist, kissing her gently. “I missed you, honey,” said Dad. “I missed you too,” said Mom, stroking his chest. “Sam made up another story today.” “Another one?” Dad chuckled. “We’re gonna have to start writing them down.” I smiled, my cheeks wet with tears. This was the father I remembered. Loving, caring, strong. The scene faded as I started telling my dad my story about a rabbit that had lost its ears. I then found myself in my backyard. The younger me was lying on the ground with a kid’s tricycle on top of me. “Heeeeelp!” I cried. “Help! Will nobody save me!?” “I’ll save you!” said a deep, confident voice from behind a tree. Out popped my Dad wearing a tablecloth as a cape and some speedos over his jeans. He stuck his arms out on front of him and jogged in a zigzag around the garden before stopping at my younger self. “Looks like you need a hand!” said Dad. My younger self pretended to gasp with relief. “SUPERDAD!” My Dad took hold of the tricycle and he pretended it was very heavy. He grunted with fake exertion as he slowly lifted it up and over his head. He put it down on the floor and crouched. “Are you injured citizen?” asked Dad. “Yes, SuperDad,” I said, feigning injury. “The evil Barbie stuck me with a jelly-legs poison and I can’t walk. The only cure is ice-cream!” “Ice cream, eh?” said Dad. “Well I’ll take you to my hideout and I’ll cure you of the evil Barbie’s poison!” He lifted me up under his arm and ran around the garden in circles. My Mom and sister had been watching and giggling from the patio where they had been gardening. “I want ice-cream too!” said my sister. My Dad ran up and grabbed her in the other arm, spinning us all in a circle until he finally ran into the house. My mom shook her head and I followed her as she walked inside. My Dad had put us on the kitchen counter and he was pulling ice cream out of the freezer. He popped the lid and got three spoons out and we all began spooning it in our mouths, my Dad eating huge mouthfuls and making us laugh. The scene began to fade again until I was in a hallway in a hospital. My younger self, about six now, was sitting on a bench with my sister, waiting. My parents came out of a door looking like the world had ended. My Mom had clearly been crying and my Dad was slimmer, not quite as muscular; his hair was missing in patches on his head and he was incredibly pale. We ran to them when we saw them and my Dad crouched down and pulled us into a tight hug. “Daddy, are you gonna be okay?” my sister asked. My Dad looked like he was about to speak but he didn’t, he just held us tighter. “Of course Daddy’s gonna be okay!” I said. “Daddy is real strong, he’s never lets anything beat him, right Daddy?” My Dad smiled. At the time I took it for a happy smile. But now that I was watching the memory again, now that I was older, I recognised it as a lie. He knew the truth but he didn’t want to scare us, to let us down. No, it was a smile that said: “it’s not okay, it’s not going to be fine, I’m going to die.” “Daddy’s gonna keep fighting until he gets better,” he said. “And you two are what keep me strong. Sammy, Gemma; you have to be good to your Mommy and help her out lots, okay? Daddy might get a little weak, I might have to go to the hospital more and I might not always be able to play but if you’re good kids for Mommy then it’ll make me stronger, okay? Promise me?” “Daddy, are you going to die?” my sister asked. My Dad froze again, my Mom bit back a sob above us, but he saved face with another smile. “No, sweetie,” said Dad. “So long as you’re good, Daddy will be strong and I’ll… I’ll get better in no time. So no fighting, no bothering Mom or making messes; you both have to promise me, okay?” “We promise,” my sister and I said in unison. My Dad began to tear up and pulled us in as tight as he could. The scene disappeared and I was in a different part of the hospital standing behind my younger self, my sister and Mom as we walked down the hallway. My sister was holding a “get well soon” balloon and flowers, while I was carrying a handmade book with an illustration on the front in crayon. A doctor stepped out of a door and noticed us approaching. I recognised that doctor, as he would later become my Stepfather. “Can we see Daddy?” I asked. “In a minute honey, let me talk to the doctor first,” Mom said. We waited patiently as the doctor pulled Mom aside. They spoke in hushed voices that even I couldn’t hear but Mom hung her head and the doctor put a hand on her shoulder sympathetically. We walked into the room and my younger self ran out almost instantly, dropping the book on the floor. In the hospital bed was the same figure that had appeared in the water, my father after month and months of very intensive chemotherapy. As I remembered, he’d been staying at the hospital for a month and hadn’t been home which was why we had visited. Mom ran after my younger self and grabbed me. “Honey, what’s wrong?” she asked. “Don’t you want to see Daddy? He wants to see you.” “THAT’S NOT DADDY!” I screamed. “MY DADDY IS BIG AND STRONG AND HE’S A SUPERHERO! HE DOESN’T LOOK LIKE THAT! WHERE’S MY DADDY! I WANT MY DADDY!” “Daddy’s a little weak right now,” said Mom. “He’s not very well.” “NO! DADDY IS NEVER WEAK! HE TOLD ME HE WAS STRONG AND HE PROMISED HE WOULD BE STRONG FOREVER!” My younger self began to cry and so did Mom. She hugged me tight and I continued to beg for my Dad, the one I remembered and not the sick man lying in the hospital bed. I suddenly felt my body being pulled back, the hallway getting further away from me but I wanted to stay. I emerged from the water, gasping for air. I was back in the cave on Hard Mountain, alone in the pool. I began to cry, really cry. I was crying for the father I had hated for so long because he had died of cancer, a childish hatred that he hadn’t kept his promise to be strong and let it take his life. I cried for the memories I had shut away out of that childish hatred of him, the replacement of my grief, the years of repressing all happy thoughts and memories I’d had of him. I cried at my own self-hatred because I had refused to see him after that last memory, even when he was moments from death. I had never said goodbye, I sat outside in the hallway, even when the haunting sound of the heart monitor going flat was all I could hear above the sorrow of my family. I stood up from the pool. In my heart I wanted to drown myself, let the water consume me. I could do it right here and now and no one would know, not even Jack and Danny, until it was too late. I wanted to, so badly; the temptation and the water were so inviting. But I knew I couldn’t. I had to be strong and keep going, keep climbing Hard Mountain as they had told me, or else I would die anyway. I walked to the other side, wiping my face clear and taking the stone steps slowly. Up and up and up they led until I was at the end, coming out onto the mountain. -- Chapter Eleven: The higher you climb, the harder it gets...
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