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  1. kmxd

    The Gamma Wave (Pt. 1 & 2)

    Summary: A level headed and principled intern at a think tank, is tasked with researching the so-called “Green Wave,” a new movement sweeping the nation’s male youth tangentially inspired by the superhero alter-ego of the late Dr. Bruce Banner. As this intern falls deeper into the rabbit hole, he finds out more than he expected and finds himself questioning his direction. Loosely inspired by She-Hulk: Attorney at Law (2022) season 1 Disclaimer: The Hulk is a copyright of Marvel. I do not claim ownership. Warning: Political themes, toxic masculinity (?) Thank you to @czechhunter69 for feedback. This is a very plot-heavy story, so if you want a deeper story and not just a cum-and-go story, you’re in the right place. Originally written to be a one-shot, but split into parts for easy reading. THERE WILL BE FOUR PARTS TO THIS! ---------- Author’s Note: I was watching She-Hulk again with a friend, and while it’s not Marvel’s best work, the plotline involving Intelligencia had some potential. I have an idea for a line of stories based on it, starting with this one. Whether they all get written, who knows - but at least we have this one. And I know it takes place 4 decades in the future with all the contemporary slang, websites, and archetypes of today, but bear with me. Also, this is loosely in the MCU, but it doesn’t focus on any superheroes or pre-existing characters too much (other than the Hulk of course), only using it as a backdrop. Be aware that this has some darker implications and explorations of masculinity mixed into the muscle growth, so if you’re not into the parallels I’m drawing to real life, this might not be for you. Maybe consider this a bit of a cautionary tale about looking out for what your friends are looking at online. Please note that this first part does not have ANY muscle growth — but still please read for the story! I promise the next parts will be much more spicy. ---------- Part 1 2064. “Morning Finn. Got a new assignment for you.” Peeking from behind the large monitor, the intern’s brown eyes locked onto the packet of documents dropped onto his desk. Without missing a beat, he picked it up and opened it, reading through the organization’s briefing. Sometimes he felt like he was a CIA agent planning a psyop, not a political science student working at one of the most guarded think tanks in the nation. Each topic and area of research was treated as a “case” — not just a study, but an actual investigative case to close. Case in point, the documents detailed a small, but steadily rising movement among his peers. “Good morning to you, Marty...” Finn’s voice had a deep but raspy tone, almost sounding as if he struggled to keep it at that pitch even at his soft-spoken, almost whispery volume. He swept his dark brown short shaggy hair out of his face as he continued. “What is this? ‘The Green Wave, popular with Gen Gamma males aged 18-25.’ It just reads like another dumb trend for immature guys.” “Read more,” the middle aged man pulled a seat in front of Finn. Finn glanced up before continuing. “‘Idolizing volatile fitness personalities, feeding off a culture that borderline fetishizes strength and power, and inspired by the late legendary superhero Bruce Banner, Gen Gamma swept up by the Green Wave are redefining what masculinity means for them by reinforcing what they know. They’re projected to have a devastating psychological and political impact on the demographic.” Finn paused before recalling some of his friends who’ve been acting different over the past few months, wondering if this had something to do with it. “Interesting,” he ended simply. “Your goal is to study them,” Marty said. He reclined a lil bit in the chair. “I want you to figure out how they appear. How guys your age get pulled in. What methods they use. What makes them tick. What changes in all these guys. We figured since you’re in Gen Gamma it would be easiest for you to understand them in context.” “Just study them?” “We want to see if they’re doing anything different that we could use for our own campaigns. Election season’s coming up and our client wants some data on what’s happening here, and maybe we could even intervene. Think you can do that?” Finn looked through the rest of the packet. Some lists of hashtags, accounts, ideas, and people apart of this movement. It seemed… A little unrefined, but workable. Though Finn thought that ‘intervention’ was not exactly the direction he cared about. “Yeah I can do it,” he said. “What’s the deadline for the first round of info briefs?” “End of week.” Marty sprung out of his chair and headed towards the door. “Ping me if you got any questions.” — Finn spent the first half of the day finishing up his last reports before transitioning to working on the Green Wave assignment. And he wished he wasted another hour before jumping in. As expected, the scene was very… Male. It was a bunch of amateur bodybuilder bros drunk on their own manufactured sense of masculinity. They were pretty much exactly what you’d think. A lil dumb, a lil vain, definitely cocky, and one-track-minded on reaching ‘Hulkhood’ — whatever that means. Corny naming aside, it definitely looked like their model and template was this bastardized idea of the Hulk — this toxic, inhuman, ultra strong, gamma green image of being a man without any of the Banner. Finn just shook his head the whole time. If any of the Avengers were still alive to see what people did to his image, they’d all condemn the glorification of the Hulk. But their naming just made it obvious they just didn’t get that. Maybe Finn was just too pretentious to handle the mindless and uneducated droning of these guys. But that was just the surface. Finn barely knew what else laid underneath the surface, given that these were just the most popular creators. As far as he could tell, it really was just another stupid aesthetic latched onto gym bro culture. But there had to be something else. The comments on some of these reposts on Britter alone were enough of an indicator that this had to be a whole other corner of the internet that he just has never interacted with. Not wanting the algorithms to mess with his carefully curated timelines, Finn made a new account on each of the major platforms. He immediately followed different accounts — the big ones listed on the brief he was given, other big accounts that seem only tangentially related to the Green Wave, and a few random guys his age who follow Green Wave guys and seem to be posting a lot. It’s time to research. — The rest of the day was slow. Finn felt like he was losing brain cells every time he scrolled to another Green Wave video on TikKot. They all started the same: some kind of hook focused on the guy trying to gas himself up for being ripped, then some faux-deep talk about “finding your inner Hulk,” then some workout tips, then an edit of their latest workout set to whatever trending song seemed most “hard” at the moment. He just didn’t get it, it seemed like generic gym motivation content. Two months into this internship season, and this might be the most nothingburger case he’s handled. How could this be politically relevant? Going home was his respite. Thankfully his internship paid for his rent for the duration of the internship, letting him live in a nice apartment for the summer. He just has to keep the internship, which should be no problem. He’d never say it outright, but Finn knew he was dedicated and smart. That’s why he was the only intern they recruited for three seasons at a row at this point. Changing the world for the better by understanding, was what he said in his interview. Bridging divides and making connections. Solving the social issues of our time. Creating acceptance and good for the world that would transform the headlines in the news into positive ones. But increasingly discouraged by the lack of change despite his efforts, the news never changed. Even as Finn turned on the TV and switched it to the news channel, he was feeling like it might be a lil futile. What good was this data? He knew where he stood, but he wondered if it was a combination of boredom and frustration that influenced his growing apathy towards change. “We’re coming to you live from the city,” the news anchor announced. “Today we are doing a deep dive on the so-called ‘Green Wave.’ Could it impact the future of Gen Gamma? Or will it end up be—” Finn groaned and shut the TV off. Even at home he couldn’t escape his work. However he knew the news was clearly overreacting as always, sensationalizing something that would turn out to be an unpopular, fringe online community. As he idly thought about what he should get for dinner, he scrolled through Extergram, trying to see if his friends were doing anything. He had a dry feed and instead went to check his own profile, looking over his old memories and pictures with friends. He should check in on a couple of them. Finn took no time in video calling Tyler. He picked up immediately, his face popping up and his voice, a bit deeper and more monotone than Finn remembered, boomed through his phone’s speakers. “Heeeyy, it’s been forever! What’s up, man?” His voice had a weirdly familiar inflection that was definitely different from how he talked before, but Finn wasn’t entirely sure where to place it. But Finn’s attention was directed elsewhere. Absent in the frame of the video feed was Tyler’s shoulders, which were pushed out of sight but framed his newly slightly muscled frame, covered only by a loose shirt with its sleeves and sides cut out, showcasing the edges of his lats and pecs. Finn couldn’t believe it — Tyler had gone through a crazy transformation, looking less like the scrawny nerd he left him and more like the athlete his father wished he’d been. What happened to him since Finn had left for the internship just two months ago? “Helllooo. Shit, am I lagging or something?” Finn shook his head as he pulled himself out of his thoughts. “I’m here! I’m here,” Finn said, trying to take in the sight. He could barely articulate, being distracted at what his friend had become. “Hi. Sorry I’ve been so busy; I was bored since I finally had some time to kill and thought I’d call. I’d ask how you are, but you look like you’ve been doing… good. Real good.” Cutting through Finn’s awkward chuckle, a grin stretched across Tyler’s face. “Oh man, you mean this?” The camera got tilted to the right as Tyler’s arm flung up into a flexing pose, a prominent bicep peak straining against his skin as veins bulged around. His face came back into view as he relaxed his arm, an irritating cocky expression on his face. “Phew. Yeah, I kinda started hitting the gym while you were doing your thing in the big city.” His words carried an uncharacteristically brash energy. Finn’s jaw almost dropped at the sight. Where the hell did this come from? Despite the weird shift in his attitude, Finn had to admit Tyler was looking good. “Damn. Did your dad finally get to you?” Tyler laughed. “Not exactly. I just decided to stop being a bitch and start getting tough.” The expression on Finn’s face shifted a little, his brow slowly raising with his smile not as strong. “You know you could’ve just said you wanted to get stronger.” Finn was not amused. “Hey, it’s just a joke,” Tyler said playfully. “No yeah, that’s the one. I mean, there were like a bunch of reasons though, like I got a job at the gym and I kinda got swept up in…” “...The ‘Green Wave’?” Tyler’s eyes widened before he brought the camera closer to his face, looking around before speaking again, as if he wasn’t home alone at this time of day. “Yooo…” His voice was lower, like he was trying not to let anyone else hear. “You’re in that too? You gonna go full Gamma, bro?” He was talking like Finn knew what he was talking about. The look in Tyler’s eyes made it look like he was begging for validation, hoping that Finn was one of “them.” Who “them” was exactly was still unknown to Finn, but his catch-up call was turning out more relevant than he realized it would be. “I… I just heard about it a couple days ago,” Finn lied, trying to maintain a cool tone and contain his immediate urge to go on with a barrage of questions. “I think I wanna look more into it but don’t know much… But it sounds like you know more than me.” “Nah, I don’t know much,” Tyler said, relaxing a little bit. “I just got into it a few months ago. I’m just hyped I finally met someone else who can understand my Hulkhood journey, bro.” “A few months ago?” Ignoring the weird terminology popping up again, Finn tried to chart out the timeline. This meant that he must’ve gotten hooked… “Like a little before you left, I started getting Green Wave stuff on my TikKot and Britter feeds. I thought it was a bunch of bullshit, so I used to just scroll past it as soon as I could recognize what it was…” Tyler shook his head and grinned, as if he was recalling naivete. “Just a few days after you left for the big city, my feeds were completely swamped with the Green Wave. I tried avoiding social media for a couple days but I decided I should just check some of these people out. Understand what they’re saying so I knew what I was up against.” Finn interjected. “But it didn’t turn out that way.” “Nah, bro. I finally sat down and scrolled through. At first it was just dumb, filler shit. Then I started seeing more and I started understanding… Even though I hated them at the beginning, I just realized I didn’t fully disagree with them. Then I realized they kinda opened my eyes in a different way. Like fuck, they’re right, there’s a Hulk inside me waiting to be unleashed…” Finn shifted uncomfortably as he saw Tyler stare off into the distance, biting his lip, his arm moving in a way that suggested him adjusting a half-hard dick. (Or was that just Finn’s imagination?) “Remember how I got hired at the gym and they never gave me a schedule? I guess I was a seasonal hire and didn’t realize it, ‘cause the next week they finally had me working in the gym. And that’s also when I actually started working out too. By Wednesday I’d woken up to the sound of my Gamma Protein being delivered to my door.” “That’s a fast change.” “That’s what my dad said.” A smirk came across Tyler’s face. “Imagine the look on his face when he saw me walking in and finally noticing the gains. The growth. I told him I was serious about this shit. He sent me some Green Wave videos he didn’t even realize was Green Wave stuff, which just cemented this shit for me even more. We started bonding again, to be honest. Bro, he ordered me a tub of the Gamma Labs protein powder, and it came in yesterday.” “That’s it?” Finn tried to imagine himself witnessing the changes in real time, but it all still seemed a bit too unrealistic. Too drastic. Tyler nodded. “Look, I don’t give a fuck what everyone else says, bro. They’re just haters. They just don’t understand what it feels to finally be free and know it.” Finn grimaced at the wording. “You make it sound almost like a cult.” “It’s not, I swear! It’s just opened my eyes, a little, you know?” “What is it, then? Like what exactly is the Green Wave?” “It’s just…” “Just what?” “I don’t know how to explain it, bro.” “Well try! How can you not explain it after 3 months?” Finn’s neutral, friendly tone broke for a moment, sounding more forceful and irritated. Tyler just chuckled before taking a hard look at Finn, almost studying him. “Look man, if you’re that curious, you gotta check it out yourself. I think you’ll resonate with it, bro.” Finn could’ve sworn Tyler’s brown eyes looked a lil green as the light hit them. He blinked, and the green was gone. After the call, Finn got dinner: some spicy tofu dish and fresh greens from the Chinese place around the corner. The whole time, Finn couldn’t stop thinking about his chat with Tyler. It just seemed a little strange that Tyler had slipped into it and changed so quickly. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to get sucked in just by watching some random videos online. That’s not to say that Tyler didn’t seem happy or like he was taking care of himself, it’s just… A weird shift. He was missing something. When he went to bed that night, it weighed on his mind. This didn’t seem very interesting at first, but seeing Tyler talk and carry himself the way he did seemed a little sobering. He did want to understand. As he laid there, earbuds in, he decided to do a deep dive once again. He pulled up his burner account on TikKot once again, hoping that maybe a couple more scrolls could illuminate his friend’s motivations now. Instead, Finn was disappointed to find that his new scrolls weren’t bringing up anything new — just the same kind of generic motivation edits and short videos of people trying to show off their progress in the gym. There was nothing new. Nothing interesting. Nothing provocative. And so he eventually slipped into his sleep. It was too boring. With his earbuds still inside, the noise of his feed continued to fill his ears, dumping its cacophony unprocessed. Words whispered into his ears began to sound like Tyler’s voice, echoing what he said before: “a Hulk inside waiting to be unleashed…” — “GET THE FUCK OFF YOUR ASS AND START MOVING, LITTLE BITCH.” The loud, bass-y voice suddenly blared in his ears, startling him out of a deep sleep and back to consciousness. Finn nearly had a heart attack. He immediately pulled his earbuds out and threw them across his bed. Palming and massaging his face with both hands, trying to rouse himself awake, he struggled to reorient himself. He felt well rested yet restless. Looking down, feeling a dampness around his neck and chest, he was shocked to see his shirt was actually drenched, as if he’d run a marathon in his sleep. And at the back of his head, a hazy, tingly sensation as he tried to shake the ‘sleep’ off. Feeling around his bed, he finally picked up his concerningly warm phone, playing a short clip from some podcast on TikKot. Then he looked down at the caption — tagged with #greenwave — and username behind the clip — “Intelligencia Pod”. He didn’t see this account yesterday despite his diligent searching and decided to screenshot it for his later reference. “Geez, I must have left it on auto-scroll all night…” Finn muttered. Then he looked to see his phone’s battery — at an abysmal 11% — and the time, evoking a horrendous horror — “Holy fuck, I’m already 6 minutes late?” Finn rushed to beat the clock. He typically had a whole morning routine and never missed it. Now, he had to skip it, instead rushing to brush his teeth and wash his face, foregoing the shower in favor of cologne and body spray he never even knew he had, and quickly throwing on the first clothes he could find before making his way to the office. What he didn’t notice as he rushed in the bathroom, was his phone, still open to TikKot, scrolling on automatic once again, passing a few seemingly ordinary clips. Maybe if Finn had lingered a while longer he would’ve noticed words flashing on the screen, with binaural beats and subliminals pulsating through the speakers. — Today was going to be a long day. “Are you okay, Finn?” He looked up to see Marty, his mentor popping by his desk for the fourth time that day. Finn tried to dust himself off, an attempt to make himself look more presentable in spite of his disheveled experience. “Yeah, yeah, I’m great. Why?” “Just checking,” Marty said. “You just came in late, looking a lil rough this morning. I’d never seen you show up like that.” “Yeah, I’m fine. Just, uh… Just overslept my alarms a little bit. I really am fine, though.” “Really?” It was true. Despite his bad start to the day, Finn was strangely feeling more energetic and eager to seize the day. He hadn’t felt this motivated in months. The only issue was that with the energy seemed to be a lack of focus. He was getting distracted from his work, his mind and fingers always making their way to TikKot on his phone before he stopped himself. Marty gave Finn a long hard look before he sighed. “You know what? Take the afternoon off.” Finn’s head snapped over. “Take the afternoon off?” “You’re one of the best interns this firm has ever had, and the longest one we’ve ever retained. It’s beyond worrying to see a bright star like you so off your game today.” “But I need the hours! Seriously, I’m fine,” Finn protested. “I can clean myself up for the rest of the day. I need to be here.” Marty shook his head. “You can stay til lunch, but I want you to rest. Don’t worry about your hours — consider it a fully paid half day. You deserve a break, kid.” With the rest of his day cleared, Finn was left with nothing to do. It was only at this point he’d started to realize that his life was empty; his weekday cycle was just waking up, working, eating, then sleeping. He hadn’t a clue of what to do til he stepped into the breakroom. He was idly pacing around the room as he contemplated grabbing one of the donuts left out by one of his coworkers when he jumped at the sound of the door creaking open. In a panic, he scrambled to look like he was in the middle of some meaningful action, maybe about to grab a donut, before he saw who was at the door. Walking in was a guy not much older than Finn, standing much taller than him at 6’2”, his dark sandy blond hair cut to a short cropped undercut, his cool gray eyes wandering around the room before settling on Finn. His stoic expression shifted to accommodate a slight grin as he nodded to the intern. His plain office-appropriate shirt and tie did little to conceal the young man’s physique, only sparing spectators the details of the precise angles of his muscle insertions while betraying the shape and density of his muscles. “‘Sup, Finn,” he said plainly. “Hi Brian,” Finn muttered. Brian had been brought on as the firm’s newest junior associate just as the internship season had picked up, hired straight out of college somewhere in South Carolina. Finn hadn’t paid him much mind at all, barely prodding anyone with questions and never questioning how little the two crossed paths, if they’d even see each other. He wasn’t one for stereotypes, but Finn just thought Brian had that look to him that said they wouldn’t quite… align, so to speak. Brian looked like the type of guy that would be on the other side of his issues. Coupled with his apparent lack of enthusiasm for progress and his masculine bravado, Finn just steered away. He wasn’t his kind of crowd. But today, Finn was ogling him. He felt drawn to him. “So, uh… You’re grabbing a donut, huh?” “Nah.” Brian walked past him to the office fridge and opening it. “Just getting some protein in.” He reached in and pulled out a bottle of Gamma Labs Mass Milk, with its unassuming white packaging and a deep green cap. “Right.” Finn sheepishly withdrew his hand, as if not to let his habits offend the gymgoer in the room. A distinct snap sounded through the room as Brian quickly and forcefully opened the bottle. “So you taking an early lunch?” Finn shook his head and lightly chuckled. “No, I… Well, Marty let me take the rest of the day off. I’m just hanging out in here before I go.” He shuffled to the side, allowing a clear path from Brian to the door. “Oh! Sweet,” Brian said simply. Finn was waiting for him to leave, but the tall associate instead pulled a chair beside him, angling it towards Finn before sitting in it. His legs were spread casually, his left elbow resting on the table looking up at Finn. It felt like Brian was fucking with him honestly, but Finn was feeling confused more than anything. Why is this guy entertaining a conversation with him? Brian took a gulp of milk, a loud ‘glug’ sound unnerving Finn. “So what’s your plan for the rest of the day?” “I don’t know. I don’t really do much since the internship usually takes up so much time…” Finn felt so awkward talking. Even as he did, his eyes were glued to Brian setting the milk bottle down as he tilted his thick neck, stretching it and showing off the striations of his subtle traps — then lifting an arm to scratch the back of his head, as his white shirt slightly tightened around his biceps and shoulders before he relaxed. “Really?” Brian leaned forward, letting Finn take in the broadness and width of his shoulders and the way his shirt hugged his chest. “You look like you’d have a lot of hobbies. I thought a guy like you would be like… a painter or some shit.” The mild stereotyping would’ve ordinarily annoyed Finn, but he had no place to talk since he categorized Brian as one of those entitled jock types. “Well I used to skate, but I…” Finn watched the slight flex of Brian’s bicep as he went to take another gulp of his milk. He hated that he was noticing all of this right now, but with Brian just there in his sight, he just couldn’t help but notice. He ended up wondering if… “I… gotta hit the gym.” “Huh.” Brian’s eyes lit up at Finn’s words, and he stopped himself from taking another sip. He looked Finn up and down, almost studying him. “I never took you for someone who lifts. That sleeper build must be fucking crazy, dude.” It took a moment for Finn to fully process what Brian was implying before he exclaimed, “No, no, no. I mean like... I’m interested in maybe starting to hit the gym. Not that it’s on my schedule. It’s just been on his mind, like maybe I should start going…” Finn’s brown eyes were wide as he talked. He honestly didn’t know what he was talking about himself — what he was saying was a total fabrication just to make himself seem relatable or on the same level. But he’s usually not afraid to say it: that’s not his crowd. “That’s what’s up,” Brian affirmed, his voice taking on a more casual and irritatingly familiar fratty cadence. He kept his eyes locked on Finn, looking him up and down before speaking again. “Hey, uh. I’m gonna be off in a couple hours actually. If you’re down for it, you could come to my gym.” Panic. “No, it’s okay,” Finn said quickly. “I’m heading home after this, I’m down by 87th and 52nd…” “That’s perfect!” Brian’s eyes lit up even more. “I go to Phelps Fitness on 87th and 50th. It’s the one that used to be Energy Gym, but some chain bought it out.” “But for me — I just don’t know if it’s for me. Like I’ve never even touched a weight,” Finn tried to reason. His bashfulness was genuine, and he was quickly realizing he should’ve just admitted that he didn’t give a fuck about the gym. Brian instead took it as a challenge. “That’s just fear, dude. Fear is what keeps men like you and me from reaching our potential.” He stood up as he crushed the rest of the milk. “Come on! You said you were interested. Just tag along, I can show you a couple workouts, then you can decide whether or not it’s for you. Deal?” This was far from anything Finn would seek out for himself. He’s a proud bookworm, armed with political theory and psychology. After all, the pen is mightier than the sword. Plus he has his fill of physical activity in his walks around the city. But in the back of his head, a voice was pushing him to try — plus he had no excuse not to. Finn couldn’t place exactly why he felt uncomfortable feeling the urge, or where the urge had come from. Years of lack of interest suddenly flipped to a cautious interest. Not that there was anything wrong with it. It’s good to want to be stronger after all. Finn looked up to Brian. “Sure,” he said, looking a little confused by his own decision. Something inside told him this was the right choice. “Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t hurt.” Brian grinned. “Hell yeah. Alright, I’ll message you or something. I’ll be out in a couple hours and let you know.” He extended his hand. Finn awkwardly reached forward to shake it, just for his business shake being subverted by Brian dapping him up before he left the room. All alone in the breakroom once again, Finn began to agonize over the idea of scrawny him struggling to bench just 10 pounds. A part of him wanted to be able to bench 10,000.
  2. bbmikenj

    The Weatherman. Part 13 added 3/24

    Sam had been a weatherman on a local affiliate in his city for over a decade. He was very photogenic, like so many on air personalities, and kept himself in great shape. In fact, his trainer often told him that he should enter a physique competition. Sam would just laugh off the suggestion, but then he would go home and flex in the mirror, admiring his muscular build, picturing himself winning a competition with ease, until he came to his own reflection. Later that week, a new sportscaster was joining the crew at Sam’s station. He was from an affiliate in Montana. His name was Kurt Steele. Sam googled him, and found out that he’d been a rancher until about a year ago when he started doing sports for a station out of Helena. The only images of him were his headshots, which seemed odd, but from those Sam could tell the guy was a big burly guy, the epitome of what a sportscaster should look like. His neck was wider than his head. His jaw line and brow were thick and squared off, like a Neanderthal. A ruggedly handsome Neanderthal. Thick swirls of chest hair stuck up from his unbuttoned polo collar. Sam was mesmerized by the rugged masculinity of his face, but disdainfully hoped that the guy’s IQ matched his neck size, which appeared to be about 24 inches. The day Kurt started at the station, Sam arrived about 20 minutes before his air time, as usual. Jillian, the makeup woman, told him he should go meet the new guy. “He’s in Greg’s old office.” So Sam made his way down the hallway and knocked on the door. He knew from the guy’s headshots to expect a big man, but when the door open, he took a step back. The guy was huge. Kurt smiled broadly and said, “You must be Sam. I recognize your face.” His voice was a deep bass as it rolled out of his barrel chest. He had on a tight white tee that showed off his impressive build. “Um, yeh, I’m Sam,” stuttered Sam, who was rarely at a loss for words. He had a hard time processing the size of the man in front of him. He felt off balance. Kurt put out his hand and the two men shook. And in about the time it takes an electron to orbit its nucleus, both men knew who the alpha was, as men usually do with a handshake. Kurt’s huge meaty grip wrapped around Sam’s smaller hand and squeezed. Sam was not used to being the beta who was intimidated by a bigger man’s presence. He felt lightheaded, and had a funny stirring in his gut that he wasn’t used to either. “Come on in,” said Kurt, pulling Sam into his office, giving him no chance to decline the invite. “I’m just getting ready for my big debut.” Kurt stripped off his white tee and tossed it aside. “Holy shit,” muttered Sam, as he soaked in the sight of the powerfully built sportscaster. He could feel the heat coming off his massive torso. Kurt chuckled. “What’s the matter, Sammy, you never seen muscle like this before?” Kurt flexed his arm. “I guess not many people have seen a 23” arm this close up.” He moved his big peak closer to Sam. Kurt’s scent filled the room. Sam backed up against the door jam. “Or chest slabs like this.” Kurt turned sideways toward a big mirror on the wall. He heaved his chest out. His pecs jutted outward. “Oh my god,” said Sam. Kurt’s pecs had three times the thickness of his. Kurt grinned as he bounced his powerful chest. “Check this out, Sammy.” Kurt grabbed a trophy that was on a shelf next to fthe mirror. He heaved his chest out farther, then placed the trophy on his wide pec shelf and rested it there. “Geezus fuck,” said Sam. Then he said, “Is that a powerlifting trophy? “Yep. I’ve got about twenty more off them, still boxed up in my new place. I keep winning them, and my chest keeps getting bigger and stronger. Along with everything else too. Speaking of which, I’ve gotta pump up a little before going on.” Kurt put the trophy back on the shelf. He went over to the closet and pulled out chest exercise bar. Sam used to see ads for them in old muscle mags. Kurt held it in his outstretched arms and bent it until the ends tapped. “I had this special ordered,” said Kurt. “It has 6 times the tension of their hardest bar.” He bent the bar as if it had no resistance at all. Like it was a toy. His pecs swelled with every rep. So did his brawny arms and forearms. When he stopped, he handed the bar to Sam. “You look like you try to stay in shape. Give it a try. You’ll be surprised at how hard it works your whole upper body.” Sam tried it, but could barely make the thing budge. Meanwhile Kurt was checking himself out in the mirror. “Yeh,” he said, satisfied. “Not a bad pump at all.” He was swollen up like a super heavyweight bodybuilder right before heading on stage. He turned and walked to his desk, and Sam got a good look at the big man’s back. It was wider and thicker than Vincent Mansone’s. Kurt picked up a stick of deodorant from his desk. He turned toward Sam, raised one big arm and started rubbing deodorant into his deep armpit. “You look a little pale there, Sam. You never seen a pump like this?” Kurt started bouncing his swollen mounds. Even thru his hairy pelt, Sam could see striations on the bigger man’s pecs, and the deep valley between the two. “That is insane,” groaned Sam. Kurt chuckled as he finished his other pit. Then he went to the closet and pulled out a big black polo and pulled it on. It was snug on his massive torso. “They don’t make these 6xl’s as big as they used to,” said Kurt, as his huge veiny arms pushed the short sleeves halfway up his delts. He shoved the shirt tail into his pants. Sam could see Kurt’s thick ab bricks thru the fabric, moving in and out as he breathed. “It gets hard to find clothes when you’re 330 pounds and growing.” He flexed his arms into a double bi. “You better get ready for your segment, Sam. But you might want to change your pants first.” Sam was barely holding onto consciousness, but he looked down and realized that precum had leaked thru his dress pants. “It’s good to be part of the team,” said Kurt as he walked up to Sam and took his hand, shaking it again. Then Kurt ran his thick calloused thumb up and down the back of Sam’s hand, slowly and firmly. Sam came in his pants.
  3. Bigboi

    The WereBeast's Curse Ch.1-4

    **DISCLAIMER** This fictional story includes sexual thoughts and acts that depict taboo themes (incest). So if you're not into incest, then this story ain't for you. Chapter 1 - Mayor's "Homemade" Drink At 9:00 PM, Edward Thompson, a respectable, middle-aged police officer, was conducting his patrolling duties in his police vehicle. He never liked being on night patrol. This is the time of day when stupid bar patrons would get too drunk and start fights. These caused the town, that he and his son are currently residing in for the past 20 years, to deteriorate into a shit hole. Adding to that, reports have been made recently about a large feral animal going around the town. Some even say that what they saw was not an animal, but a huge and hairy man. Whatever it may be, growls and ominous howlings that were once heard within the nearby forest started to come from within the streets every night. Wanting to check up on his boy, he pulled over to the side of the road to send him a text. Edward: Are you home already, sport? Thomas: no, just finished dinner with friends. On the way home now. Edward: OK. Be careful, reports have been issued about a big wild animal in town. get home asap. Thomas: great, more shitty things to pile up in this mess of a town. Edward was about to send another message when he heard strange loud noises coming from a nearby dark alleyway. He got out of his police car and approached the corner. Flashlight in hand, he turned to the corner to find a large, naked figure of a man, standing in the dead-end of the alley. Edward estimated that the large man must be at least 7 feet tall, and weigh 500 lbs of muscle. The giant man has his rippling back facing Edward. Edward noticed that the man was making strange movements with his arms and hips, accompanied by heavy grunts and moans. Edward was still taking in the situation he got himself into, when suddenly, the gigantic man stopped.. Turning around slowly towards him, Edward recognized the face of the massive, naked monster: It was none other than the mayor of the city! Even though several lights were casting an illuminating glow around the area, Edward's eyes could hardly focus because they were adjusting to the darkness. However, the clear silhouette revealed enough features for recognition. Mayor Johnson had always seemed like a decent person, but seeing him like this made his heart race faster than usual. Facing him now, he took in the body of the massive mayor. The mayor's muscles bulged with intensity with each breath. Thick white hair covered his entire body. And the massive erect cock that pointed towards Edward. "Beckman?" stammered Edward hesitantly. Mayor Beckman stood still for a moment before lowering his gaze downwards and then quickly looking away. His face was filled with hunger as drool came running down his mouth and to his wild beard. Finally, he faced the officer once again and muttered under his breath, "Ah...Officer Thompson..." The mayor then raised his gargantuan arms into a double bi, alternatively flexing and relaxing his guns. “You like what you see, Edward?” The beast pulled his left arm closer to his face, and began licking and worshiping his engorged and veiny bicep. All Edward could do was stare in horror and bewilderment while Beckman kept on flexing and tasting his muscles. This whole scene became too much for the officer as his own erection came to life, straining within his slacks. Beckman took notice of Edward’s sudden hard-on, clearly turned on by his erotic display of masculinity. “Hehehe, Guess I’ll take that as a yes…”, he sighed while staring at the wet spot emerging from Edward’s stiff cock. Then with a swift motion, he grabbed Edward by his torso and lifted him off the ground. Confused and scared, Edward tried to break free from the mayor's grasp, but was ultimately powerless. Mayor Beckman dropped Edward to the ground, never letting his hand leave his prey. The mayor's left hand took hold of the frightened policeman's head, and pulled him towards his crotch. With his free arm, the mayor reached for his crotch, stroking his enormous tool through his thick bush of pubic hair, dripping pre-cum onto Edward's uniform. As he moved closer, Edward caught a whiff of an intoxicating smell - a mix of raw masculinity, sweat, and aroused sexual energy. It was intoxicating, yet terrifying as he realized what was about to happen. Mayors Johnson held Edward firmly against his rock-hard, throbbing penis. Both men shared a glance, fear, desire, and confusion mixed together as if trying to decipher the situation. Their eyes locked intensely until finally, Edward gave in to his own primal urges, allowing his lips to brush across the head of the mayor's erection, taking its size into account. The tip of the member was wet, slightly sticky with precum. Making eye contact again, Edward nodded subtly indicating acceptance. "Go on, have a taste of the monster that I have become", Beckman growled. Edward began to take in the precum-coated head of the mayo's cock in his mouth. He sucked the mushroom head with such passion and drank the constant flow of salty precum. Edward kept on pleasing the cock of the beast. He rubbed and massaged the massive hairy balls with his hands. The baseball-sized testicles churned with each pleasurable lick and touch. Adding a new approach to servicing the hot meat stick, Edward began licking it from its base and up to the giant mushroom head. “Oh my, looks like you still got it huh, Thompson?”, Beckman said as he panted and moaned in delight from the most pleasurable head in his life. Edward kept on alternating between sucking the head and licking the massive fuck tool, and massaging the hairy balls dangling between each muscled thighs. "FUCK YES! YOUR GONNA MAKE ME CUM WITH THAT HOT MOUTH OF YERS" The mayor roared as he took hold of Edward’s head with both hands and began face fucking him with the full length of his cock with incredible speed and force. The lust-filled cop gagged and choked on the giant monster cock pile driving through his throat. He held on to both of the beast's massive hairy thighs to hold himself. With each passing moment, he started to lose consciousness from the rough face fucking. "GRAAAAAAAAAH TAKE MY LOAD!" Mayor Beckman immediately shot his creamy load into Edward. Making the cop spill the beast's load from overflowing in his mouth and nose. With the beast satisfied, he pulled out his cock out of the cop's mouth with a pop. The exhausted beast slowly reverted to his small, naked, human body. Leaving only the unconscious, cum-fiiled officer on the ground, creamy spunk still spilling from his gaping mouth. 10:00 PM - Thompson Residence Thomas just finished his school project in his bedroom after an hour. His dad usually comes home after a few extra hours right after his shift to meet his buddies. So he occasionally sleeps alone in their home, and wakes up with his father preparing breakfast. As he jumped right into bed, he locked his door, took off his clothes, and jumped right into bed. Before sleeping, he always performs his nightly ritual of jerking off. He started doing this right after puberty, specifically the moment his perspective of his dad changed. Being a loving and supportive father, to a handsome, and hot daddy. His father's dad bod and manly mustache sold him off as a certified DILF in his eyes. He kept his feelings a secret from his dad, not wanting to ruin their relationship. After his mother left with another man, Edward was the only person left who could comfort his father after such affairs. As a way to cope with his lust-filled feelings, he often stole his dad's underwear from the laundry basket and wore it throughout the day. Edward doesn't bathe right after his night shifts and lets his underwear accumulate his scent. And every morning, he would jerk off and use his briefs as a cum wreck. So everyday, Thomas had worn his daddy's cum soaked briefs at school, and while hanging out with his friends. And during his nightly masturbation session, he would sniff his dad's underwear while beating his meat. ... After 30 minutes of jerking off, he heard the front door of the house open. He suspected that it was his dad entering the house from his shift. Thomas sighed and continued jerking off, until he heard his dad outside of his bedroom door. "Thomas? Are you still up sport?" This is his father's way of checking up on him every night. However, there was something off about his father's voice. It was somehow deeper and... more masculine? He reluctantly answered back. "Yeah, just getting ready for bed." After a few moments, Thomas heard some odd noise coming from the door. It sounds like some heavy breathing and sniffing sounds. “Dad, you okay? Have you eaten yet?” “Yeah, just finished drinking with the mayor. Beckman fed me well with some of his homemade drink.” The mayor? Thomas was a bit surprised that his dad was drinking with Mayor Beckman since he hated him for a number of reasons. One of which are the multiple cases of abuse of power that the mayor used to get away with practically almost everything. The worst of it all, people kept on complaining to the local police department about the allegations, adding more stress to the single father’s job. But what ticked Edward the most were the allegations of domestic abuse that Beckman inflicted to his wife and child. Just then, he heard his dad’s bedroom door open, then slam loudly. His dad must be very drunk from the mayor’s “homemade” drink or whatever. Resuming his session, he fantasized about his daddy with the same deep voice, urging him to cum for his daddy. Unbeknownst to Thomas, Edward never left from where he stood. He could smell his musky scent inside his son’s room, along with Thomas’ scent mixing with his. As Thomas was approaching his climax, low and muffled grunts could be heard outside of his room. But Thomas was so preoccupied to pay attention to the noises as he jacked his cock even faster. And with a final thrust and muffled moan, he shot his load all over his stomach and face. Just as he was enjoying his climax, splashes could also be heard from the other side of his bedroom door. After post-orgasm, Thomas fell into a deep sleep, while Edward finally entered his room. Throughout the night, grunts and moans of pleasure kept emanating from Edward’s room. Still relishing the smell of his and Thomas’ scent in his mind. To be continued...
  4. Bulgingbiceps

    Triad

    They are ferocious. They are powerful. They are rulers. They are THE ALPHAS! Three horny alphas compete for the same territory. There can only be ONE alpha, after all! But when an ancient evil comes for them, they gotta join forces (and their cocks) to defeat it. A wolf will do what it takes to defend its territory, even if it means matting with the competition. ...and the three became one, and one became three...
  5. Broody

    Wad

    [Hey guys, hope you like this weird one-shot] Wad Dude, I gotta tell you this crazy story. I was stoned out of my mind at this boring-ass house party. You should’ve seen the fat blunt I blazed before I got there and then as soon as I arrived I dropped some primo acid in the bathroom. The dudes at the party were all nerds with a capital NERD and there were barely two semi-hot chicks. I was about to make a move on the seven (and angry about it, a seven? I never usually dip below an eight) when I literally ran into this short dude. I bounced back a step like a rubber ball and peered down at his dumb sticker name tag. You get what I’m saying, dude? Sticker name tags? It was that kind of party. “What kind of a stupid name is Wad?” The dude cocked his head to the side and eyed me silently. “Is it short…” I stopped and giggled. ‘Cause he was short see? He didn’t laugh. “Is it short for something? Like Wade?” I giggled again. Why would you shorten a short name? Oh I get it! Because he’s short! I started laughing and snorting like a hyena. The acid was kicking in something fierce. “No,” he said. His voice was so deep the vibration of that single word made my body tingle. What the fuck? I stopped laughing and just stared at him. I realized that though this dude was short, he was jacked, man. Big boned, broad shouldered, and massively muscled. I took in the size of his pecs, turning my head slowly to the left, then right. Dude, his chest alone was wider than my whole body! His hoodie must have been an XXL or bigger and it was plastered to his skin. “Bro,” I said. “You’re huge!” “Yeah," he said. I poked his right pec with my finger. It felt like Detroit fucking steel. “Man that’s solid. You gotta give me the number of your ‘roid dealer.” He said nothing, just shrugged his melon-sized shoulders. See, what’d I tell you? Nerds! Can’t even have a conversation. Though I’d never seen a nerd as stacked as this dude before. “Great talking to you.” I rolled my eyes. “‘Scuse me tho’, I got bitches to hunt.” I nodded toward the seven, who’s name was Beth, I think? Or Bess? Was Bess a name? I stood in front of the dude pondering this, you know, that way you do when you’re stoned, and he turned to look. “Her?” he said. Something about the way he said it got my ire up. “What? I got game, bro. You think I can’t get into her pussy?” He paused and dead-ass looked me up and down. “I know you will,” he said. I grinned at him. “Four words in a row. Slow down, Wad, you’re freaking me out.” I made to move past him, but he shifted his stance and blocked my path with his brick wall of muscle. “It’s not my name,” he said. “What??” Now this dude was beginning to piss me off. I stepped up and clenched my fists, ready to go toe-to-toe with Mr Shorty, though the acid was making my vision a little blurry. “I said: It’s not my name. It’s what I do.” My hyena laugh came back. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” So guess what, dude? He showed me. *** I stared out at the partiers with the one eye I could still see out of. Most of them seemed to keep doing what they were doing: drinking, talking, flirting. Fewer people than you’d think stopped to watch a dude wad a grown man up into a ball. One skinny guy looked up from his phone: “Damn, bro, you’re strong.” What the fuck, Captain Obvious? “Yeah,” he said. “How much do you bench?” “Whatever I want." I blinked my one eye between the dude’s thick fingers. I tried to figure out where my mouth was so I could say something. “Mmmmfff!” “Bro I think he’s trying to say something,” said the skinny dude. I watched his biceps and pecs ripple under the gray fabric of his hoodie. He shifted his hands and held me up in front of his face. “What?”. “How?” I managed to gasp. “I told you. It’s what I do.” This was a circular conversation. But then, I was a ball. Fucking hilarious, right? “Well then, why?” “Some dudes need to be shown their place, y’know?” “What dudes?” “Dudes that think they can ignore me. Get wadded.” “I wasn’t… I talked to you!” “Making a move on a girl I got my eye on? Wadded.” “I didn’t know!” “Guess you do now.” “Bro, c’mon.” The skinny guy yawned and went back to his phone. Mr It’s-Not-My-Name-It’s-What-I-Do spun me on the tip of his finger like a basketball and I held together for a few seconds and then unravelled. I tumbled to the floor, put myself back together as best I could and then climbed back to my feet. Somehow he seemed taller than he did before which was weird. I mean, the whole thing was weird, right? He just stood in front of me, all jacked and indifferent, and I felt my face flush. “You feel hot or is it just me?” I said, pulling on the collar of my t-shirt. “Yeah,” he said. He unzipped his hoodie and shrugged it off his massive shoulders. Bro. Like, *bro*. I heard someone gasp like a teenage girl and then I realized it was me. He wore nothing at all underneath. I took ragged breaths as I stared like a chump at his incredible body. He had a thick muscular neck and traps that humped up nearly to his ears. His delts swelled like they’d been inflated by a tire pump. His giant pecs jumped and bounced as he scrunched up his hoodie and tossed it on a sofa. His waist was a tight shredded stack of bricks that would have broken my hand if I’d punched ‘em. The waistband of his jeans was really loose because he had to wear a bigger size to fit his damn huge quads. Despite all that he was going commando, and letting his thick, blond bush sprout out the top of the jeans. I looked back up at his face in awe. He snorted and I was shocked to feel myself skid toward him slightly, like if he’d snorted harder I would have gone up his nose like a line of coke. Then he turned and walked toward the kitchen. “Gettin’ a beer,” he said. I stared at his 747 lats and bowling ball glutes for a few seconds and then my knees wobbled and I fell into the sofa. I picked up his hoodie and held it up to see how huge it was. I stuck my arms in the sleeves and pulled it over my shoulders. It has been skin tight on him but on me it looked like I could set it up with pegs and camp in it. My eyes started to glaze over as his alpha male pheromones wafted up from the fabric. Man, I was never doing drugs again, this was such a bad trip. “Hey.” I looked up to see Bess (I think?) standing over me. “You okay?” I smiled, back in the game. “Doing better now,” I said. “I’m Ricky.” “I’m Beth,” she said as she sat down next to me. “You’re gorgeous, babe.” “Awww, thanks Ricky.” She tossed her sleek black hair, and pushed out her chest. Damn she had nice tits. “This is probably weird to say. But you smell really good.” “Thanks, Beth,” I said. “That is not even the weirdest thing someone’s said to me in the last ten minutes.” “Ha ha, you’re so funny!” She leaned into me like she was going to whisper something sexy in my ear. I watched, excited, as her tits heaved. Instead of whispering, she inhaled, her nose buried in the cotton of the hoodie. I felt her whole body quiver in lust. Hell yeah! “Wow, you really smell good,” she moaned. “I got something you can smell, babe.” Okay maybe that wasn’t my best line ever, but I was goddamn high for fuck’s sake. Just then, a heavy weight smashed into me like a 250 lb bowling ball was dropped in my lap. Everything went dark. “What the fuck?” I tried to say, but my mouth was squished flat into my face by back muscle. My thighs folded up against my chest as half my body was jammed down into the crack in the back of the sofa. “What happened to Ricky?” Beth asked. “Who’s Ricky?” The low frequency vibes from HIS deep voice battered my face even flatter. “Oh nevermind. Wow you really smell good!” I tried to roll my eyes, but that was hard to do since they were squished. “Yeah,” he said. “Ha ha, you’re so funny!” Oh my god, WHAT was I doing at a party with these morons? “That’s it I’m outta here!” I shouted, though it came out more of a mumble. Using all my strength I tried to push myself up. My forearms were the only part of my body that wasn’t squished flat by his massive back and giant thighs. I braced my elbows against the back of the sofa and pushed hard with my hands on his external obliques. This was the only part of his jacked bod I could get a grip on, since both his lats above and his glutes below flared out beyond where my stumpy half-limbs could reach. Dude, I pushed so hard but nothing happened. Fuck. He was an immovable object and being a half-man at the time, I was no irresistible force. But somehow my drug-addled brain wouldn’t admit defeat, dude. I took as deep a breath as my pancake ribcage could manage and pushed against him with all my might. I felt some movement and groaned with even more effort as my arms pushed forward. I let out a whoop when I felt my arms extend fully, but it caught in my throat when I realized everything was still dark. I hadn’t moved his damn super heavyweight physique an inch, I’d merely pushed my noodly arms around his narrow waist. They were caught deep into the groove of his swole Apollo’s Belt. All I could do was keep pushing ‘em forward. “Should I?” I thought. Dude, I’d seen enough self-loving muscle fags flexing in the locker-room mirrors to know the pot that was at the end of that rainbow. “Damn it, I’m no queer!” I burbled into a back muscle. You know, one of those ripply back muscles that wasn’t a trap or a lat and only nerds knew the name of. But a defiant, curious part of me was like: “I bet it’s tiny. I bet his dick is tiny and even tinier lost in all that muscle. I bet this Muscle Mary has a clit dick. A clit dick to match his bitch tits.” With a strangled gurgle, I pressed my entire body forward so that my arms could reach further. My head mashed into the deep canyon between his lower traps. My shoulders and upper arms folded into the undulating layers of his lats, and my lower legs twisted themselves into the corrugated muscle of his hamstrings. “Tiny dick, tiny dick!” I chanted, ignoring the pain as my rubbery hands groped into a dense grove of his pubes that scraped my skin like barbed wire. Finally my fingertips touched a squishy tube that was the size a pencil. “Yes!” I croaked “Tiny dick!” A deep, rumbly laugh pummeled my Play-Doh body, vibrating me into a sticky goo that spread even further into the crevices of his Adirondacks back. The laugh went on and on. My fingers crept forward and I felt the huge salami that lay beneath the pencil. It was just a vein. A vein running along the biggest cock ever. Not only was this dude jacked the fuck out, he was monster hung! Daaaaaamn. “This look tiny to you, babe?” he said. Bess squealed: “Oh my god!” “Let’s take this somewhere private.” The dude stood up and suddenly I could see again. It wasn’t pretty. “Strong dude!” said the skinny guy. “You got some gum or something stuck to your back.” The dude flexed and rolled his massive traps and lats but all that did was weave my bits further into him. “Help a bro out?” he said over his shoulder. The skinny guy pulled on the belt loop of my pants and I peeled away from the grinding gears of his muscle with a loud, goopy THWOCK. The skinny dude dropped me on the sofa and went back to his phone. “Oh, hi Ricky!” said Bess. “I wondered what happened to you.” I was wondering that too, but it took me a few moments to pull myself together, while the dude steered Bess toward the bedroom. I finally stood up from the sofa. When I rose to my full height I was shocked to see that I was now the same height as the short dude. Actually no, I was slightly shorter. “No,” I breathed hotly. I couldn’t be short now. “Give it back! “ I yelled as I marched over to him. You could beat a man at sports. You could fuck a man’s girl. You could even wad a man up into a ball. But you couldn’t take a man’s height. That was too much. I felt my face flush in anger. “Uh,” said Bess, “why don’t I leave you guys to work this out.” She flitted off to the kitchen. The dude turned to me, and before I even considered what I was doing, my fist swung in an arc at his face. He raised his hand sharply and caught my punch in his huge mitt. He closed his fingers tight around my clenched fist, which looked like a small child's compared to his. In fact his huge fingers were each bigger than my dick. I looked past the hand to his face. Maybe it was because I didn’t bother paying that much attention to short people, but I hadn’t noticed before how handsome he was. He had stunning green eyes flecked with gold. Blond hair buzzed into a tight fade on the sides. Major cheekbones and a stubbly, cleft chin. And a square masculine jaw, measured by the devil’s own protractor. My anger ebbed, replaced by lust. For the first time since I was a teenager I got a hard-on for a dude. He didn’t even acknowledge I’d tried to sock him, he just said: “Never tried it one handed before.” He grunted with mild effort as my fist collapsed into his hand. “What?” I said. My gaze traveled to the muscles of his forearm, which were rippling like a nest of snakes. His thick fingers extended out like a claw, then pulled inward, compacting more of my forearm into his palm. His big, meaty thumb compressed and held the wad in place while his fingers reached out for more. Dazed, I stared dumbly as my elbow got sucked in. The weird thing was, I could feel it. I could feel him exerting his strength on my body. I could feel the counter-pressure of my wadded up arm trying to burst out his palm, and it was kind of exciting, like getting a boner in too-tight briefs. As my bicep reached his hand I flexed it. Not to try to pull away, that seemed impossible, (and I wasn’t sure I wanted to). I flexed it just to see what would happen. It formed a small mound. I had never before thought of my biceps as small, but there was no doubt: the muscle at the base of his thumb was bigger. He met my eyes and held that thumb-muscle against my biceps like he was making damn sure I saw the comparison. Then he squashed it flat. As he continued packing me into his fist with the fingers of one hand, something occurred to me. “How come…” I paused, realizing my voice was hoarse. “How come there’s no pain?” He looked offended. “Dude. I’m not a psychopath.” He bit down on his lower-lip as he reached my torso; he splayed his four fingers out and they mashed the right half of it in one go. Then he extended an index finger and pressed it against the top of my thigh. My whole right leg bent backwards and his pinky finger hooked it into the wad. When he got to the pelvis he did the same trick on my left leg. I burped as a bit of gas forced its way out of my stomach. I was beginning to regret some of my choices here. “Man, sorry I punched you.” “That? First backbone you’ve shown dude,” he said as my literal backbone inched its way into his fist. “Makes me think I maybe misjudged you.” “Yeah?” He smirked. I was now just a head, arm and half-torso hanging from his hand. He leaned his head forward and I felt his hot breath in my ear. “That’s why you’re getting the extra sexy version.” My acid giggles came back, or it might have been the tickle of his lips on my ear. “No homo!” My hard cock said otherwise from somewhere within the racquetball sized mass in his hand. His pinky hooked my neck into the ball and I blindly copped a last feel of the cascading muscles of his pumped 20 inch forearm before his fist slurped up my arm like a noodle. “One handed, bro!” he whooped. He crushed me like Superman turning coal to diamond and then opened up his hand. I laid in his palm like an egg. “Now that’s a fucking WAD, man. Damn tight. I’m getting better at this.” “You are, dude!” I chirped as I blinked one eye. “Thanks, bro. Maybe you’re alright after all. Let’s go find Beth.” “I’ll be your wingman, bro.” “More like Pac Man, get it?” “Ha, ha ‘cause I’m round, right?” “You’re getting it bro.” *** It turns out, dude, that he wasn’t a nerd after all. He was just one of those guys that takes a while to warm up, y’know? “Chug! Chug! Chug!” chanted Bess and the Skinny Dude. I could hear him down the beer in barely four gulps. What a fucking stud! I popped my lips out of the wad, which he’d tucked between his pecs, and whistled. “Fuck yeah, bro,” he rumbled. “Your turn.” He flicked the cap off another beer with his thumbnail and turned it up into my mouth. At first I dribbled the liquid, coating his deep-cut eight pack with a foamy shine. “Don’t worry, I’ll lick that off later,” Bess cooed. Then I got the hang of it and swallowed again and again while the chug chant spurred me on. As the beer filled me up, more of me popped out of the wad. As I took the last gulps, my shrunken, twelve inch frame clung to the bottleneck, my legs swinging like a baby monkey at the zoo. “Good job, little guy,” he said, plucking me off the bottle and holding me up in front of his huge, handsome smile. Bess loomed over me like a beautiful giant. Look how small you are Ricky! Babe, don't drop him!” But then I belched like a linebacker at a victory party and he let go in surprise. I fell down his torso, skidding over the slick rocks of his abs into the loose waist of his jeans, and came to an abrupt stop straddling the base of his huge cock. Thank fuck it was still spongy soft or my tiny balls would have been crushed! “Aww look at him he’s so cute! Babe you’re like a kangaroo with a little joey!” said Bess as I looked up dazed from my new perch. He looked at her weird but Skinny Dude, leaned drunkenly against him. “That’s a compliment bro, those ‘roos are jacked as shit.” “Seriously? That’s cool, man.” While Skinny Dude showed him a vid on his phone of two muscular kangaroos boxing, Bess leaned over and poked my tummy like I was the Pillsbury Doughboy. I giggled to make her laugh and stared at her giant tits, but then her breathing got real heavy as her hand went lower. She felt the shaft of his soft cock between my legs. “It’s soooo big, Ricky. And he’s not even hard yet.” She winked at me like I was a co-conspirator in getting that cock in her pussy, and I started panting with lust at the image that sprung into my brain of just that, my own prick growing rock hard in an instant. “Look, babe, Ricky’s got a little boner!” she said slyly. “Yeah?” he said “Nice, bro.” I looked down at my stiff rod sticking straight out. It was dwarfed by a vein that started to fill with blood as I felt the flesh beneath my ass begin to swell. She stood up and crushed her body to his. Her soft curves molding to his stony hardness, with me caught in between. I could smell her cunt getting slick as she moaned “Fuck me!” into his ear. “Guess what bro?” he said. “Looks like we’re getting lucky.” We stumbled into a bedroom and she fell back on the mattress while he leaned against the door to close us off from the din of the party. Of its own accord, his giant cock busted open the fly of his jeans as it swelled to its full cunt-busting length. I gasped as I stared at the huge purple helmet towering over my head as his thick shaft crushed me into his navel. “Babe—“ she stuttered. “Do you have a condom?” His rumbly chuckle vibrated my bones to jelly and he plucked me up and rolled me flat between two fingers. “See, bro, I told you you’d get into her pussy.” ** Isn’t that fucked, dude? Have you ever heard a story as crazy as that? It’s all true, no word of lie. In fact, dude, I feel flushed, and jacked as shit since I left there. At first, I had a huge headache from how my head kept pounding into her cervix. Yeah bro that huge cock really filled her up to the max. And when she came, that cunt pounded back, dude. Fuck! And then he busted, filling my fucking latex ass with primo jock muscle juice. Once they fell asleep, I pried myself off that big cock and squeezed my hole to keep every bit of that stud cum in me. Fuck man, I was back to normal height in seconds! And look man, muscles like I never seen before in all my life. Feel that bicep bro, big and hard as a rock. I said feel it bro. Where do you think you’re going, you little shit? Feel that muscle I said. Who are you calling a weird ass motherfucker? I tell you a cool story and then you try to split like a chump? C’mere you. Hrgh. Hnnnn. That’s right, who’s weird now, dirtbag? Hrggh. How do you like being a ball, fucker? END
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