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  1. *ANNOUNCEMENT* It appears that my blog is experiencing a drop in interest. I think I might take some time off for awhile to evaluate whether or not I will continue. I want to thank everyone who has been using it and participating. I couldn't have done it without you. Please vote in the poll I have attached to this post. I really need to know where to move forward. I will likely close this poll around the time the forum turns five next month.
  2. Well here it is... the second and final part. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. And thank you all for the positive reactions and comments I got for Part 1. I really wasn't expecting it, but it's greatly appreciated. Part 1 HERE MY GRANDAD’S MUSCLES Part 2 of 2. I suppose it was to be expected Grandad would have me up at the crack of dawn; it was the farming way, right? Despite his massive size, I hadn’t heard him come into the bedroom to open the curtains, leave a cup of tea on the nightstand beside my bed, and also a special gift next to it. But he’d been in and out without waking me; the first rays of glorious morning sunshine permeating the room was enough to rouse me out of a somewhat restful sleep. I swung my feet to the floor, rubbing sleep out of my eye with one finger, whilst taking the teacup up to my lips with the other. The tea had sugar in it; I normally took it just with milk. But I didn’t mind. It was a nice gesture. An even nicer gesture was the other gift he left me: a brand new jock-strap; I guess these were now my ‘work clothes’. Anyone else might have been creeped out by this, but I didn’t feel that way. My Grandad was an exceptional person, and I liked to think this was his way of bonding with his grandson. It was all good in my book. I decided to ‘break it in’ immediately. This helped to waken me up and begin acclimating to my new life at Ridge Farm. It was so comfortable and it made my package look awesome. I looked at myself in the mirror (yup, the room came with a full-length mirror). The jock really did my body justice. I felt so manly, and looked so athletic. Had my first night at the farm caused changes to my body? I thought I looked more muscular, but maybe it was wishful thinking. I was tall, therefore any additions to my muscularity would have to be significant ones, right? Still, I found myself ‘making muscles’ to my reflection, and within a couple of minutes I was erect as fuck. I wondered how long it would take my milky skin to get tanned as I worked outdoors. Grandpa’s skin tone was so healthy. He really didn’t look sixty-four. I decided to take a quick shower and beat off under the spray. I would probably be horny for the rest of the day anyway, so maybe it was best I ‘milk’ myself as early as I could. When I went downstairs — wearing only my new jockstrap plus the sneakers I arrived in — Grandad was slaving over the stove again. This time he didn’t wear the apron. That pleased me. He, too, wore only a jockstrap. I will admit to the guilty pleasure of sprouting a semi at the sight of his massive delta-back supported by a waspish waist, which itself drew its foundation from the biggest, juiciest muscle-butt I’d ever seen. It bulged gorgeously out of the straps of the jock which framed it perfectly. The muscle dimples that popped in and out of the glutes as he worked on breakfast were a sight to behold. His legs worked clumsily against each other for space, but he had it nailed down. There was something so arousing to see a bodybuilder get so huge that it made walking look awkward. But there was nothing awkward about Gordon Ridge. He was truly magnificent. “Good morning, Grandad,” I said simply. He turned around, looking huge. He smiled at me, noticed I was wearing the gift he’d left me, and then nodded his approval. “I hope you like porridge,” he said, “It’s very nutritious. This is my special recipe, lad. A healthy body is required for labouring on the farm.” A healthy body? In his case that was an understatement. He beckoned me to sit at the table where there was a place set out for me. Next to my bowl was some sort of milkshake in a tall glass. I gingerly sniffed at it. “What’s this?” I inquired. “My morning shake. It’s full of all the essentials. I rounded the pigs up single-handedly. But you’re going to help me repair the fence I smashed last night.” He appeared somewhat rueful. His rage of the night before actually seemed like a dream to me now. He ladled a hearty two dollops of porridge into my bowl. The breakfast had an ‘earthiness’ to its aroma. I couldn’t put my finger on it, though. Still, I was as hungry as a growing 18 year-old can be, so I dug into my breakfast, and was pleased when it came with two rounds of wholemeal buttered toast. Grandad sat down opposite me to eat. His appetite was as massive as he was. He was already through his first bowl of porridge by the time I’d taken my fourth spoonful. I must admit that he was a really good cook. “Your strength is incredible, Grandad,” I couldn’t wait to say. He smiled gratefully. I think he was glad I was here. A guy like him shouldn’t spend so much time alone. Although, I had yet to learn how he associated with the local village folk. Silas from yesterday mentioned he was a legend to the people around here. “I could be stronger,” he said simply. I had to comment: “Is that, like, a curse to a bodybuilder?” “What do you mean?” He eyed me through air that could have been sliced apart with a knife. Did I say the wrong thing? Oh, I really didn’t want to piss him off again. I liked this house. I didn’t want it reduced to rubble. “Er… um… I didn’t mean anything sinister, Grandad.” I chose my words carefully. He remained silent. I nervously dry-swallowed and felt my stomach churning up butterflies. My bottom lip started quivering. I spoke slowly, carefully. “I mean… do you feel, sometimes, that you can never be big enough? Are there limits to how huge you’d like to be?” Please, please, please, don’t hulk out on me, I thought to myself. Did I mention Anthony this time? I hoped that my Grandad didn’t isolate himself from society because he couldn’t control his temper. He broke the ensuing silence by chewing a piece of toast noisily. Then he knocked back his morning shake before getting up to refill his porridge bowl. After what seemed like a small age, he answered my questions. “Yes to the first question; no to the second.” Then he opened a kitchen drawer and took out an old newspaper. He handed it to me. “Turn to page four,” he instructed. I opened the newspaper. The date at the top was from two years ago, not long after Granny’s funeral. The main article on the page read: “CHILD LABOUR RING FOILED BY FLYING TRACTOR” In the early hours of Monday morning, an organised syndicate of illegal child labourers had their operation destroyed by a tractor when it struck their base of operation, a hitherto abandoned creamery near the village of Dundrevan. Five of the six men, all non-nationals, suffered minor injuries, whilst one remains in a critical condition in hospital. Police who shortly after arrived at the scene discovered twenty-two children — also non-nationals, with ages ranging between 8 and 14 — wandering about the area in a state of apparent confusion. The children are currently being cared for at the Sisters of Mercy convent where they are being treated for shock and malnutrition. Examination of their living conditions revealed that the children were being used to manufacture narcotics intended for sale both here and abroad. Police are keen to question the men involved, and it is not currently known how a tractor happened to fall from the sky with precision enough to end this brutal crime against innocent children. I was a little confused, not sure what Grandad was expressing by showing me the newspaper. He then opened up: “The nuns tipped me off about the place. This fucking place. Honestly, one police man, and he’s close to retirement, too. He couldn’t investigate a pimple on the end of his nose. So the Mother Superior came to me. She said she was passing there one day and heard what she thought was a child getting beaten. And where was PC fucking Plod at the time? Playing cards and drinking gin with Silas Brandywine. No wonder those human trafficking bastards set up shop here. Perfect place to get away with all kinds of shit.” Grandad paused to flex his muscles. He brought both arms up to a double biceps. When he said his biceps were thirty-one inches yesterday, they looked thicker than my waist now. Veins popped out of his skin and seemed to help him inflate himself bigger. I was hard as a rock again, but I was seated at the table, so he didn’t notice. “So I did what any father would do. I saved those kids. The tractor was here when I bought the place, but it was shot. I’d staked out the creamery myself, getting the layout and all that. My hearing is pretty good, and I could tell that the children weren’t in the main house, but in one of the outbuildings, probably used to store the dairy products prior to shipping when the place was operational. It was heavily padlocked, which wouldn’t have been a problem for me.” He paused to crank out a most muscular. OMG, he looked bigger — way bigger — than yesterday. That could only mean his strength was increasing by the hour. I had to ask another question: “Why didn’t you just bust the kids out there and then?” “I guess I have a flair for the dramatic, Stephen. Plus, I couldn’t tell if those wankers had guns or who they were connected to. Was it a localised operation, or was there something bigger behind it?” He shrugged, causing his massive pecs to heave and flex. Veins erupted across his shoulders and chest. “I planned to demolish the entire house, but my aim was off. Fortunately the tractor hit the part where most of them were sleeping. It’s a disappointing miracle only one of them was seriously injured. But he lived. They all were extradited back to whatever shit-pile they crawled from. The kids were all orphans, but I hear they’re doing well in foster homes and such.” “That part of the tractor from last night. Was it…?” “Yup, the very same. After the police were done with their investigation, they just up and left. The buildings were demolished for safety reasons and what was left of the tractor was just lying there when I returned a few weeks later. I decided to keep it as a memento.” “Aren’t you worried the cops will connect you to the incident through the tractor remains?” Then I remembered: he completely destroyed what was left of it last night. “Pimple on the end of his nose,” Grandad reminded me, referring to the local constabulary’s incompetence. I had to ask another question: “What does your heroic deed do with how huge you want to get?” Oh I hoped this question wouldn’t set him off again. I silently cringed and my erection subsided. Grandad didn’t answer immediately. For a moment he was lost to his flexing. He performed weight-free bicep curls before me, his attention rapt on the bulging balls of muscle that erupted out of his arms as he flexed and pumped them. He grunted with something akin to minor satisfaction. “Back then I weighed less than half of what I do now, which of this morning is one hundred and twenty-five stone.” He paused to allow me to take that one in. Wait, he said ‘stones’. I had to do some mental arithmetic. I couldn’t believe the number. “You’re over 1700 pounds. Grandad… that’s… it’s…” I didn’t have the words. “I plan to weigh over a tonne before the week is out, lad. See what I did back then to free those kids? I must be way stronger now. I moved here to get away from shit. I was stressed out trying to keep my businesses afloat. Too many gyms completely saturated the market and my profits were diminishing. Before I knew it I was taking out second mortgages on the properties, but haemorrhaging capital faster than new bills get printed. And your grandmother’s cancer was so hard to bear.” He didn’t elaborate. I hadn’t known Granny all that well; you can blame ‘dear old dad’ for that one. But Grandad was opening up to me, now. And that was a good thing. It helped me to acquire a better understanding of the person he is, and the events that led to him looking the way he does. But there was more to learn, and I’m sure he’d tell me when he was good and ready. “But I have to get stronger, Stephen. If those fuckers — or their associates — ever come back here, I want to be so fucking strong, they’ll shit out of their windpipes in fear when they see me. No child will ever again unduly suffer on my watch.” He performed a full lat spread. Fuck, he was huger than when he last did that pose. His muscles opened up and expanded in all directions. His upper pecs seemed to suck his head down into them. He liked the feeling so much that his junk swelled massively into the biggest boner I’d ever seen. He was hung like a horse; no… his made horse dicks look small. “And then there’s the… wall,” he said, sombrely. My eyebrows peaked with curiosity. I was already tugging my pud with one hand beneath the table. If Grandad noticed, he didn’t respond. We were just two guys hanging out, right? Perfectly natural for blokes to get off to one another’s manliness. It’s only hormones and chemical exchanges, nothing more. Okay fuck it… I fancied the shit out of him. My own grandfather. But it’s not like he’d been in my life much prior to this. We’d been pretty much estranged because of the bad blood between a father and his son. Couldn’t I just pretend that we weren’t related, simply to make masturbating less awkward? Wait, what was this about a ‘wall’? “Wall?” I’d been close to coming, but I was glad I didn’t. My curiosity got the better of my libido. Was he speaking about a real wall or a figurative one? I had to know more about what was going on here, especially now that I’d put down roots. In fact, I’d yet to learn about how important a role ‘roots’ played in all of this. “If you’re done with breakfast, I’ll show you around more of the farm,” said Grandad. Then he did a side-chest pose and his muscle-tits gobbled up a huge amount of space. Dimples and striations erupted across their masses. My dick went from semi-flaccid to rock hard in a heartbeat. “Oh shit,” I groaned, my words emerging as a panicky croak. I leapt up from the table, my jockstrap hugely tented out in front of me. I cupped all that I could of the bulge with my hand and made a beeline for the stairs. I had to get to the bathroom. But before I got to the upper landing, I came swiftly, my body and organ convulsing in unison. I staggered on the landing as the orgasm overwhelmed me. Once in the bathroom I locked the door and massaged my dick further where it poked out of the jock pouch. Sticky creme coated my dick and my pubic hair was slick with it. I needed to take a shower. Then I noticed that one of Grandad’s jockstraps had been left in the well of the shower. I guess he’d forgotten to chuck it in the laundry. I think I did a bad thing then, but you can decide for yourself. I picked up the jock and attempted to wear it. It was wet from the shower, but I didn’t care. It was a kinky thing to do, right? But fuck it, this new life of mine was exceptional, and full of the unexpected. Of course, I was lost inside the jock. The pouch was huge; it had to be for Grandad. The straps at the back hung loosely below my arse, hardly touching it at all. The waistband was also loose around me. I had to hold the jock with one hand to keep it up. I finally gave up and let it fall to the floor. Then I picked it up and took a little sniff. It smelt of the extremes of bodybuilding. It reeked of manly musk. It cooked in the juices of sweat and precum coaxed into being by the heavy lifting of massive weights, over and over again. It sang of strength and power and ever-increasing mass. It shone with magnificent, masculine muscularity that showed no signs of ever stopping. It was the garment of a god. I wasn’t worthy to hold it, much less attempt to wear it. I stepped into the shower and turned on the warm spray. Then I wanked again… and again. How I came three times in just a few minutes was a mystery. But there was power in this place. And I think it was rubbing off on me. I wanted it to. I wanted to be just like Grandad. *** In less than half an hour my Grandad brought me on a tour of the farm. I hate to say this, but there really wasn’t much to see. The pigs were the only livestock he owned. I asked him about this as he led me from one utility shed to another. He showed me where the generator room was. It was hooked up to several solar panels, plus a single wind-powered turbine some ways off. I hadn’t noticed the tall propeller on a stick when I’d first arrived the day before. Together the devices gave the farm all the power it needed. Grandad was off the grid and didn’t owe shit to anyone. Another building housed nothing but composters, which Grandad said was great for the soil and helped him get rid of household waste with little pollutants. He went on to explain that his toilets drained into a tank that fed into the compost. Nothing was wasted. I guess a big man produced a lot of crap. “The pigs aren’t for eating, but they serve their purpose. Although… lately I haven’t needed to use them much.” He didn’t elaborate until he took me to the field farthest from the farm. It was populated primarily by oak trees. Each tree was a mighty old thing, with a presence that felt ancient. Grandad perhaps sensed my curiosity and explained. “Last year one of these old girls got struck by lightning. Only quick reflexes from your old gramps here stopped the entire plantation from burning down. Still, wasn’t much left of her when I pulled her remains right out of the ground and cut away a cross-section.” “Don’t tell me, you didn’t use any equipment to pull up the remains, right?” I think Grandad liked the fact that I was interested in how things operated here. “Well, I used a saw to cut through the stump, but I used my strength to rend the stump from the earth, yes.” He bounced his huge pectoral masses with lofty pride. Then he added: “I wasn’t as big then as I am now. It took me a good ten minutes to get the stump out of the ground. The roots went down a mighty ways. But I won through in the end.” “You’d probably do it in half that time now. You’re huge.” I didn’t need to remind him. “Halve that time again, then lop off another minute,” he said with a smirk. “So you examined the age of the tree from its rings, yes?” There was a keenness in my voice now. He heard it and it pleased him. “Indeed. The lifespan of oak trees can vary. The really old ones can live for over five hundred years. But these babies… they’re far older. I needed a really strong magnifying glass to count those rings from the cross-section. Each ring counts for one year of growth. I gave up at seven hundred and fifty.” “Wow… so they’re something special then.” I wondered where this was going. “Not just the trees themselves, Stephen.” He hunkered down to dig for something between the roots of the nearest oak. In less than a minute he produced something round and dirty, like a clump of soil matted with leaf clutter. He tossed it to me. “What do you make of that?” I don’t know why I did it, but I immediately brought the object close to my nose. It’s odour was familiar. It was the same ‘earthy’ smell I’d gotten from the milkshake he’d made for me earlier. “What is this?” “You’ve never seen a truffle before?” “Aren’t they fancy chocolates?” “No… real truffles are fungi. But unlike regular mushrooms, they don’t put up parasols to spread their spores. They reproduce underground, amidst the root structures of trees. Different trees can produce different types of truffle. There are white ones, black ones, red ones, and so on. And some of their names are associated with the trees under which they spawn. I’m not going to go all scientific on this. I’ll keep it simple.” The truffle I held felt like it weighed about a half pound. I cleaned off the soil and revealed its somewhat greenish-purple hue. It looked like it was faintly glowing, too. Grandad had more to say on the subject. “They spread their spores via animals that dig them up and eat them. Pigs are great at this, although dogs are better. I’m not overly fond of dogs, and I picked up those pigs for a pittance. I originally had twelve. But four died of either old age, or twisted guts. Don’t worry, I didn't waste the meat. A man’s got to grow, right?” A lat spread just for the fun of it reminded me that I was in the presence of a muscle giant. “So you just let the pigs wander amongst the oaks and they dig up the truffles for you?” Grandad nodded enthusiastically. “Well, I need to be present, else they’ll scoff them up real quick. I usually just clap my hands when they find one and they obediently drop the booty. That one you’re holding in your hand — even though it’s a small one — will fetch about two hundred quid. I once unearthed one that weighed over eight pounds, but it’s quality was way beyond what you’re holding. It bought me that jeep I flung into the air last night.” He paused to frown and lament his questionable actions of the night before, but he chirped up quickly enough. “I hope it didn’t kill anyone, although I think we’d have heard something by now. I no longer fit inside cars, so it’s not really a loss.” After a short pause: “Try some,” he insisted indicating I should eat the smelly fruiting body. “Seriously? You want me to eat this?” “Yup, just rub off the excess soil and start chewing. It’ll do you good to try it. I want to test a theory.” So I was to be my Grandad’s guinea pig. Speaking of the pigs; he said some of them died from twisted guts. I hope that wasn’t from eating the truffles. “Well, you obviously know best,” I said, but I really wasn’t fond of the idea. “You had some in your shake this morning. It’s fine. Truffles are an expensive addition to cooking, highly prized in top restaurants the world over. These ones… well, they’re special.” I decided to trust my Grandad. I cleaned the tuber as best I could and then tentatively sliced some off with my teeth. It was like chewing a really dry potato, or what I imagined that would be like. There wasn’t really any flavour; more an aroma than anything else. So I chewed, and chewed, and finally forced the bolus down my throat. I coughed a few times and my eyes watered up. Grandad grinned broadly, then he slapped me on the back, hard enough to leave a red patch. I almost went flying; I guess he sometimes forgot how immensely strong he is. “Oh grow a set of balls, lad. Now tell me if you feel any different.” I didn’t feel anything. Not at first. But then… something happened. I felt a tightness all over. It started beneath my arms. I wasn’t sure I cared for the feeling at first, but then I realised I was growing. That feeling under my arms came from my expanding lat muscles. The tightness was followed quickly by a warm, tingling sensation. “Oh fuck… is this really happening?” “It sure is, Stephen. You think I got this way just by bodybuilding?” The feeling continued. My muscles were growing, expanding, gaining more dominance over the rest of me. My neck thickened, along with my traps and delts. My shoulder bones widened to better accommodate the new muscle mass. My — oh fuck — I was getting pecs… better than the modest ones I sported before. Slabs of manly chest muscles sprouted from my front and hung weightily; okay, nothing like Grandad’s, but hey, I shared much of his genetics, and now he’d revealed to me something about this place that turned men into gods. My abs and obliques tightened and toned up, sprouting bulges that made my midsection look beautiful. I looked down at myself and watched as six bellies popped out of my abdomen and became ripped and hard. My six-pack was better than it had ever been. I fanned out my arms to better accommodate my new lats. I couldn’t wait to see myself in the mirror. I felt tickled by the muscles that sprouted from my back, and I instantly shot up in the dick department. I didn’t care about having a boner. I didn’t want this feeling to end. My legs, too, gained size, with defined cords of muscle that stretched my skin tight. My calves grew big and hard and I marveled at the veins that effortlessly popped out of them. I brought my arms up to form a double biceps pose. I looked at each taut but prominent upward bulge, and my dick got harder and harder. “Fuck, Grandad. This is… it’s… it’s… incredible,” I exclaimed, completely in muscle-growth reverie. Was it okay to be this self-absorbed? I didn’t care. I never wanted this feeling to end. But it was over all too quickly. Maybe this was a dream. I pinched myself to see if I would wake up. The pinch itself was interesting. I could barely grab any skin. My body fat was far less than it had been. I’d gained quality muscle, nothing else. “Huh,that’s it?” “For now, lad. But you’ve proven something to me. The truffles work best at the beginning. The more we eat, however, the less effective they are. To get to my size you have to put in serious training. Lately I’ve been spending most of my waking hours just bodybuilding, and bodybuilding, and body-fucking-building. But it’s not enough. To achieve my ultimate goal, which is ultimately endless, I guess… I’ll need help to fully unlock the potential of these truffles.” I was now hooked on a feeling. That feeling was muscle-growth. “I want to be huge, Grandad. It’s got to happen,” I almost barked anxiously. I flexed my left bicep over and over, twisting my wrist and squeezing my fist so as to make my forearm pop like crazy. With my other hand I cranked one off, not even realising I was masturbating in front of my Grandad. He didn’t seem to mind. “You’ll get there. After all, you’ll have the best trainer. But it’s not going to be easy. When I first grew after tasting a truffle, I gained a little more than you did. I was already big from weightlifting. But I wasn’t a bodybuilder; I’d never had that kind of conditioning. But a few more truffles changed that.” To emphasise, he matched me pose for pose. We growled and goofed about for a bit, enjoying our muscles and our erections. Grandad really felt and behaved younger than his years. I wanted him to be a pal as well as a mentor. “Next time I found a better quality truffle. I ate it all, but gained a little less muscle than before. This has been going on for almost two years. Of course, I don’t always find good quality truffles. I tried experimenting with different varieties. I’d go out into the wilderness and uproot whole trees: poplar, spruce, ash etcetera. I replanted them here. I hoped, somehow that if their root structures produced truffles, that I could sort of mix the spores about, to create new strains. But the supplanted trees didn’t thrive. The oaks always overwhelmed them. So I’m basically left with one variety of truffle.” “But all we need is one variety, right? These things are magical,” I added. He nodded. “Well there is an exact science to it. I contacted a scientist colleague of mine from way back. I’ve been supplying him with truffles for over a year now. The results have been mixed, but he’s been working to isolate the muscle-growth properties of the truffles using radiation and various refining techniques. So far the results have been promising. I’m waiting for him to get back to me soon so I can get a concentrated dose. But he moves around a lot, due to the somewhat unethical nature of his experiments.” He paused to lose himself to his thoughts again. I could tell he was dreaming of getting absolutely HUGE! But if muscle-enhancing truffles weren’t enough, there was more to discover at Ridge Farm. He took me to one of three rectangular white outbuildings, the ‘sheds’ I’d seen upon my arrival the day before. Each one was devoid of windows, and the only way in was through a single, heavily padlocked door. There was also a thumb scanner (very fancy). He unlocked the padlocks and placed his thumb on the scanner. A red light on the panel turned green and there was a little ‘beep’ sound. He showed me in. There was nothing inside but a stairwell that led underground. Overhead a fluorescent light hummed more loudly than I cared for. He led me down a passageway that seemed to go on forever. His shoulders scraped the sides of the passage and he commented on this: “I’ll have to widen this passage. Getting too big for it. I like the feeling.” Eventually we stopped. There was nowhere else to go. The passageway ended, opening out into a roundish space, and dominated by what appeared to be a large, black metal wall. Track lighting along the ceiling of the shaft gave us plenty of illumination. “I found this quite by accident. I was clearing some trees to make land for ploughing, shortly after I bought the farm. I didn’t know at the time I would become a truffle farmer. I just wanted to get down and work the land and see what inspired me. It helped me with the grief process, I guess. “I wasn’t anywhere near the size I am now; I’d not yet discovered the truffles. But the building above is where a sinkhole once formed beneath my feet. I fell twenty feet into this shaft, although back then I had to crawl through it. I’ve widened it since then, and put in the lighting. I thought I was done for, but I could see where I was going, when really I should have been blind in the darkness. There was something down here emitting light.” He paused to allow me to take it all in. Suddenly he had me thinking of spacemen. “Feel the ground. It feels warm. And somewhat soft. At least when I fell I didn’t break anything, although I’d dislocated my shoulder. And it hurt like hell. But I was made of tough stuff, even back then. Here, feel the metal wall, too.” I did just that, and I could feel vibrations and a little heat emanating from the wall. “Where we are now is directly below the field of oak trees where the truffles grow. Something beyond that wall is providing them with the muscle-growth properties. Something I’m determined to discover. There’s only one problem.” I looked at him with all the incredulity I could muster. This was so much to take in; it bordered on surreal. “I can’t get through that wall. I’ve tried everything short of blowing the shit out of it and risking destroying the oaks above. No more oaks means no more truffles. There is only one way to get through that wall,” said Grandad somberly. I said nothing, but I already knew what his answer would be. “We’re going to bodybuild. We are going to build our fucking bodies to gigantic proportions. That’s the key to getting through this wall. Brute strength. Enough of it will reap the ultimate reward. Forget everything about yourself that came before this day, lad. From now on Stephen Ridge is a bodybuilder. And may we both be damned if you don’t become as big as me… or even bigger.” I was reeling from this. I actually felt light-headed as my cock got harder still. And it felt huge when I held it in my hand, rubbing it gently as I quietly got off to my Grandad’s plan. “Oh fuck… I’m gonna come. Grandad, I can’t fucking hold it in. Suh-sorry for… this… unnnnnghhhh!!!!” I just about managed to get my dick out of the jock pouch before shooting a big, salty load at the very wall we were now both determined to breach. Grandad didn’t mind. We were both men; NO! Not men. We were bodybuilders. Grandad soothed me with nothing but fondness and conviction. He believed in me. So much had happened in less than a day, but my path in life was now set out before me. I had to ask something: “What if we do get through that wall — when we’re both big enough and strong enough — what then? What if whatever’s behind that wall is locked in there for a reason?” “We’ll never know unless we try. It’s a mystery I need solved.” And as if to emphasise his point, Grandad pushed against the wall. He pressed with all of his strength, grunting noisily as he channeled every last ounce of his incredible might. His body exploded with size and power. His skin almost burst apart from the strain of new muscles bulging, getting impossibly bigger. Veins erupted all over him, carrying blood to every muscle fiber. “WHY WON’T IT FUCKING MOVE?????” For the first time since I’d been here, his exertions got the better of him. But his body looked beautiful beneath a patina of sweat that made his muscles glisten. “Hey… it’s okay, Grandad. Give it time. When I’m as big as you, we’ll both bring it down.” I placed a reassuring hand on his bicep. I felt its power and its hardness. It was mind-blowing. I had another question. “You said that each time you eat a truffle its effects are lessened. But if that’s so, how come you look like you’re growing right in front of my eyes?” A valid question, I thought. “Let me show you the next building to this one,” he said simply. At that we headed back to the surface, leaving the ancient mystery of the metal wall behind. The next building was locked the same way as the first. Grandad soon had us inside. My jaw dropped. The interior was about sixty feet by thirty. And it was crammed full of bushels of truffles, all of which had been cleaned thoroughly. They were bigger and smelt mustier than the one I’d eaten earlier. “They’re better quality truffles. I’ve been stockpiling them. They’re worth hundreds of millions of pounds. Occasionally — maybe one out of several thousand — I find an absolute pearl. A truffle of extremely high quality. I’ve found ten of them so far, each one weighing about six pounds. I sent two to my colleague for his research. The other six… well, this is why I’m the size I am today. And bodybuilding, of course. It’s how I continue to make massive gains. The better quality truffles reap the greatest rewards. Then I grow, so I can lift heavier weights and eat larger amounts. Rinse and repeat, lad.” I was held aghast by this revelation. “Please tell me you have more of them left. I want to grow huge so badly, Grandad.” My appeal didn’t fall on deaf ears. “I kept one for you, yes, lad. However, I’m a little reluctant for you to try it just yet.” Panic rose in me. I had been bitten by the muscle-growth bug, and now I was addicted. I wanted more, so much more. “But if I get huge now, we’ll be able to get through that wall sooner. What if there are even greater ways to grow our muscles beyond that wall? It could be a spaceship that crashed here thousands of years ago. Or… or… it could be the meaning of life or shit like that. Grandad, don’t hold back on me now. Not after showing me all this.” If I sounded frantic, I couldn’t help it. I was a kid denied sugar all of his life who’d suddenly discovered a lollipop. “It’s the best quality I’ve ever found. I could have easily used it on myself, to maybe pack on another five hundred pounds or more. But I’m sixty-four years old. You, however, are still going through puberty. That means you still have elevated levels of growth hormone in you. You’re not done growing yet. I’m a little scared to give you such a hefty dose so soon. You need to be introduced gradually to such potency. You could potentially grow to thousands of pounds. Your height would be incalculable. And if you consider my hulk-out rage from last night, and the damage it did, you could be out of control with testosterone- and truffle-fueled outbursts you may not be able to suppress.” He stopped talking, but rubbed my shoulder soothingly. “We need to do this right,” he said after a time. “You just need to trust your Grandad.” I calmed down and nodded my understanding. I then asked: “What’s in the third building?” “Something you need to see. I warn you… it’s not for the faint of heart,” my Grandad cautioned. “I need to see it. Please.” I had my cool head back. I was thinking clearly. Grandad nodded and so we went to the third building. It was just a big refrigerator. I felt instantly cold, but it didn’t seem to bother Grandad. It looked like a room where autopsies are carried out. And I wasn’t wrong. There was a large reinforced table in the centre of the room. A hulking mass lay on it, covered with a shiny, metallically-woven blanket. “One of the pigs was pregnant when I got them. She was the first to ingest what I believe might have been a high-quality truffle,” my Grandad said. He removed the blanket from he elephant-sized mass. The thing underneath was quite dead. It was the biggest pig I’d ever seen. It was also hugely muscled. “She died giving birth to it. She had three in all; two females. This was the male. I think the effects of the truffles only affect males. That’s why the mother and its siblings weren’t affected. It grew to this size in three days. But the critter was brain-damaged and couldn’t use its legs; a mercy, I guess. Had it gotten loose, there’s no telling what damage it could have caused. I euthanized it with poison to stop its heart. It took a lot to kill it, too.” “Why do you keep it here?” I was a little horrified. I suddenly wanted to take Grandad’s advice and be careful where the truffles were concerned. “I know… I should be rid of it. My colleague, Dr. Weiss, took plenty of tissue samples for his research. He was based here, for a while. But he likes to move around for reasons I won’t go into.” “We should burn this to the ground, and everything in it. It doesn’t feel right having this here, Grandad”. “I agree. We’ll do that after we fix the fence and then have lunch.” I was eager to get to work doing chores around the farm, so I could test out my new muscles. I weighed myself on the regular bathroom scale. The readout said “277”. I was amazed. I’d gained over fifty pounds, just from chewing on a low-quality truffle. I couldn’t wait to break that scale and have to use the big one in the barn. Then I thought about the dead monster pig. But I trusted my Grandad. He was experienced in the use of the truffles — and learning more about them all the time — so I knew I would be fine as long as I followed his advice and learned all I could from him. I knuckled down to work, eat, learn… and grow! ONE YEAR LATER Rod came in a massively long spurt as his dick responded to his third time eating a truffle, each one of better quality than the last. It never got stale to watch him engulfed in the throes of orgasmic muscle-growing bliss. His response to the truffles had been even better than mine. Okay, he didn’t share the exceptional Ridge genetics, but he’d already packed on more than one hundred pounds of muscle after just two truffles. We had to respect the potency of these miraculous, earthy fruits. Too much too soon could be catastrophic. I had my ‘little’ Mr Olympia in Rod, now. But he wouldn’t be little much longer. His growth was phenomenal so far, as was mine and Grandad’s on a daily basis. “Are you ever done jizzing?” I laughed when his body shuddered near the end of his climax. Even though I outmuscled him by nearly three thousand pounds, seeing him react to a growth spurt of his own, always made my dick super-hard. At thirty-six inches long, and twenty inches thick, my dick was beyond formidable. I couldn’t wait for Rod to get big enough so I could fuck him without ripping him a second arse hole. “I’m a major jizz machine, Ste,” said Rod, cupping as much spunk as he could so he could give it to me as a tasty treat. I loved to taste all that my boyfriend could provide. Today marked our sixth month as a couple, so it was an anniversary of sorts. A lot had happened in a year, but I’ll keep it brief. Grandad continued to bodybuild and grow bigger and bigger. I benefited from his mentoring so well, and also from controlled but consistent doses of high-grade truffle. It so happened that only the best quality truffles didn’t perish, so most of what Grandad had stockpiled in the second white building eventually turned to mush. But they made great compost, as Grandad hated to waste anything. When his height reached twelve feet and his weight close to eight thousand pounds, Grandad decided we needed to move. I was fast approaching eight feet in height and I weighed just over three thousand pounds. We needed a third body to help bring down the mysterious underground wall. So far Grandad and me could only dent it, but it proved that we were getting stronger and eventually, one day, we’d get beyond it and find out the secret to the truffles. But we were too big now to avoid eventually drawing unwanted attention. Okay, living pretty much in isolation helped, and the good folk from the village nearby were okay living near two amazing giant muscle men (with a third well on the way to massive ‘muscledom’). They would keep our secret. Still, though, Grandad felt somewhat exposed. With help from Doctor Weiss, we moved in secret to an isolated island off the west coast (airlifted by helicopter inside a metal cargo container under cover of darkness is no way to travel, believe you me). There we could live a happy life, build another farm and continue to bodybuild our incredible physiques. I went back to see Rod three months after moving to Ridge Farm. By then I looked bigger and better than any Mr Olympia winner. Rod couldn’t believe it was me, and when he popped an instant boner at first sight of me, I knew then what I’d secretly suspected all along. He was as gay as I am. Okay, he’d accidentally got Cindy Fleming pregnant, but they split up when he admitted this to her, and she didn’t want the baby anyway on the grounds she was too young to be a mother. So she put the tyke up for adoption. This left Rod a free agent. When he saw the bodybuilder I’d become after just three months, he had plenty of questions. So he listened when I told him my amazing secret. He wanted in, although he was cautious. I talked it over with Grandad, and he agreed that Rod should come live with us. I craved a boyfriend, and we needed a third huge bodybuilder to help bring down that wall. Grandad was now very rich after investing some of his monies earned from regular truffle farming in the stock market. He could afford to employ a permanent security team to guard Ridge Farm on the mainland. As soon as we were big enough — and we needed to get Rod up to a massive size, too — we’d return secretly to the underground shaft to work on the wall. Grandad wanted Rod and me to have a special day, just to ourselves. So he packed us a hefty lunch of about a million calories to get us through the day. We were down on the beach on the south side of the island. The spray from the ocean felt delicious on our naked muscle-bods. It was a strikingly beautiful summer afternoon. This place really was a paradise. It was the ideal habitat where muscle-gods could grow in private and not give a shit that we’d outgrown the regular world in favour of our own veritable Olympus. “We should have asked Gordon to join us, you big bodybuilding bulge-monster,” said Rod, and I loved it when he called me playful names like that. Then the truffle kicked in, and he began to grow. It wouldn’t be as much as the last time, as the effects of the truffles diminished with each use, so he’d have to hit the weights big time if he was ever to catch up with me. But he got more and more beautiful with every pound of muscle gained. I, too, had a lot of catching up to do with Grandad. He really was something to behold. Today he was tending to the oak saplings and truffles he’d salvaged from the mainland plantation. He’d decided to raze the original oaks to the ground and destroy any chances of truffles falling into the wrong hands. A muscle-growth epidemic would prove disastrous. Now that the oaks were no more, he decided he’d nothing to lose trying out explosives on the wall. As he’d suspected, the C4 did nothing. But the new oak plantation on the island was doing well, so far. Thanks to the compost formed of the spoiled batches of stockpiled truffles, the new oaks grew at an extremely accelerated rate. Within a year they were already nurturing new truffles in their root structures. Now and again Grandad would find a high-quality one, and he was only too happy to share it with me and Rod. His desire to grow bigger and stronger would always be with him, and we had the power to grow forever, if we so desired. But he usually took a slightly smaller dose of truffle than he provided to me and Rod. We needed to grow, and get bigger and stronger. So much bigger. We never wanted this feeling to end. Rod packed on even more muscle as we rolled around on the beach making love. I let him enter me often, and soon he’d be big enough for me to fuck him. I really couldn’t wait for that day. Later we ate a lot of food, then made love again. We went for dips in the ocean and tested our strength by hurling boulders around. Rod got a great pump out of lifting weights he couldn’t even attempt prior to his latest growth spurt. “One day we’ll get through the wall, all three of us,” I said to him as we lay on the beach, tired from our exertions. He was small compared to me, but I loved to engulf him in my massive musculature whilst cooing softly to him in his ear. “I hope the power to grow even huger is in there. It has to be if it’s been feeding the roots supporting the truffles all this time,” said Rod. “Yeah we need to get huge. I’d love to one day make Grandad look like a baby standing next to me,” I quipped. “He won’t like that,” came back Rod’s jovial remark. I loved him so much. I kissed him over and over. “But what’ll he be able to do to me? I’ll be the biggest bodybuilder ever. He’ll have to step aside and let a real man take charge. GRRRRR!!!!” I made a huge single biceps pose. At my command sixty-six inches of rock hard, steel muscle flexed and bulged, big enough to almost blot out the sun. Rod grew instantly hard again. Then we fell asleep in each other’s arms and only when the rising tide lapped at our exceptional muscle-bods, did we rouse ourselves awake and head back to New Ridge Farm. It had been a good day. But it could only get better. Grandad was making beef stew. THE END.
  3. This chapter is quite long. I started it and kinda found myself back in the zone. It's quite a hot chapter, with lots of muscles, buttons straining, flexing, and humiliation. Enjoy, and comment if you can. Comments really drive me to write more. I'd also welcome any suggestions you may have that will improve my skills as a muscle-growth writer. Parts 1-4 HERE Part 5 HERE Part Six: Waiter Serviced Half an hour passed since they’d ordered from the menus, and by this time Brett’s stomach could be heard growling from every corner of the capacious restaurant. Raj continued to ‘enjoy’ the date, but in actual fact it was the wine that dulled his inhibitions and ability to be mad at his boyfriend for not only showing up late, but making himself the centre of attention, when, really, he should have only had eyes for Raj and not his own reflection. Brett insisted the Maitre d’ bring him a free-standing full-length mirror so he could admire and flex his muscles during dinner. The manager could only comply to the muscle-god’s demands, and went to organise one to be fetched from the hotel across the road. Brett couldn’t help being the cocky self-centered egotist that he was. He grew restless from hunger and actually accepted offerings from the plates of the other guests, who were so taken by him, that they’d do anything to get to talk to him and have him acknowledge their existence. “Service is terrible here. I’m going to buy this place outright, sack all of the staff, fuck the man-holes out of them, then hire better, more efficient staff, who I’ll then fuck and have worship every inch of my god-bod. Then I’ll hire back the old staff and make them beg to worship my muscles; of course, I’ll deny them the privilege. They can just look but not touch, heh heh.” Brett tended to speak with a thunderously determined and cocky tone, so showing affection and tenderness to Raj came across as a little strained. The wine made Raj easy-going and compliant. The hangover, later, might tip these particular scales somewhat unevenly. “So I have to share you with the rest of the world’s male population?” Raj half-giggled out the inquiry. At which point the two bodybuilders who’d kept him entertained during his first hour at The Pulled Plum, came to the table bearing gifts. “Thank you for making us your bodybuilder bitches at the gym, the other day,” the first one said, offering a half-eaten plate of paella to the muscle-god. His hard-on tented out his chinos, and there was even a precum stain to show for it. His muscled partner also sported a trouser tent, and he had a plate of linguini to help sate the massive bodybuilder. Seated on the raised table area, Brett looked like a judgmental giant looming over them, as if to pass judgment on their misdeeds and smite them with thunderbolts. Instead he smiled, flexed a massive bicep, before accepting the food from the subordinates. “There’s more huge bicep flexes where that came from, you guys. But only if I feel like it. My muscles flexing will make me come shitloads, and I’m not spraying all and sundry with my incredible spunk and tit-milk to make them huge whenever they request it. I call the fucking shots when it comes to muscle-growth,” said Brett, the underlying growl in his throat sounding somewhat threatening. Then he said: “Now start whacking off right here so I can wash down this tasty paella with your spunk. I have a feeling there’s not enough protein in the grub.” The bodybuilders were only too happy to oblige. While this went on, a somewhat more sober-than-before Raj got up to use the restroom. Whilst alone and out of sight he made a call to his boss. “Ah, I was wondering when you’d call, Raj. I’ve been analysing your latest batch of notes you sent me. It makes for interesting reading.” Dr. Weiss sounded tired on the phone. It wasn’t that late, but Raj apologised for disturbing him. “Think nothing of it, lad. We’re never really off the clock, you and I. What is your opinion of Hillard’s behavioural changes?” “You’re… asking for… my opinion?” Raj couldn’t believe his ears. It was almost flattering. “Of course, I expect you to one day step into my shoes, Raj. I value you as an assistant, and as a person of good grace and virtue. So, do you think the serum has amplified Hillard’s emotional output as well as his ability to grow his body to insanely muscular proportions?” “I would say yes, Doctor. If he was arrogant and self-obsessed before the experiment, he really believes he is the centre of the universe now. He fears nothing and no one, and exploits others in horrendously demeaning ways. But people are too obsessed with him to care. I’m also obsessed with him, and can’t fault his behaviour in any way. I want him all to myself, and yet I seem okay with sharing him with the world. I can’t imagine what the future holds, if I’ll still have a place in his life. He brought me roses, although he was an hour late. This kind of stuff doesn’t resonate with him. But I’m no romantic relationship expert. I’m pretty new to all of this.” A short pause to take things in. Then: “Yes, well once we iron out the kinks in the formula and correct the anomalies, you and I can then partake of the serum and make ourselves huge. For me this will cure my muscle-wasting condition, and, well, I’ll make you huge just to say thanks for all of your help with everything.” “I don’t know what to say, Doctor Weiss. I don’t deserve an employer like you,” said Raj, almost filling up with less than manly tears. He was such a softie, which annoyed him a lot of the time. “We need to curb Hillard’s ability to produce that ‘milk’ from his pec breasts. Combined with his semen and testosterone, it’s turned into an unpredictable growth agent which can temporarily transform others into massive muscle-men. What you sent me last night from your phone — the incident between Hillard and that muscled lad he took in — totally chilling. But even more disturbing is that one of my scouts who I sent out combing the city for Hillard’s emissions found a sample in a park that is of particular concern.” Weiss paused to allow Raj to process his words. “What about it?” “You said that when Hillard ejaculated from his balcony he screamed that he was a god, yes?” “It’s all in my notes, yes,” Raj confirmed, worriedly. He didn’t like where this was going. “Yes well, according to your observations he produced many liters of semen at that point, far more than you observed during later experiences with him. I think at that moment in time, he temporarily became ‘immortal’ if you will. It’s only a theory, but if someone in that park ingested his fluid in such a concentration, then he may have the ability to grow his muscles permanently. Later, when the Declan boy outgrew him in the penthouse, the effects were temporary. He returned to his regular bodybuilder size. I’ll need a fresh sample of Hillard’s semen from you so I can run a comparison analysis with the sample found in the park. We may have another muscle-god out there who possesses no limits whatsoever to how big he can grow.” Weiss went quiet on his end. “I’ll get that for you as soon as I can, Doctor. I’d better get back to Brett, although, with the way things are going on our date, I doubt he’ll even realise I was gone,” said Raj. He was almost completely sober again. He’d have to have more wine, maybe another couple of glasses before calling it quits. Back at their table: The bodybuilder man-bitches had returned to their table, depleted of jizz and completely in awe of Brett. The smell of jizz hung heavily in the air, masking somewhat the various aromas wafting from the kitchen and from plates of delicious food carried unwaveringly by skinny waiters scurrying to and fro as they carried out their labours. Raj’s pasta was waiting for him when he returned to his seat. Across the table, the massive muscle beast had been served a dozen pizzas stacked up like pancakes before him. He was dabbing spunk from his lips with a napkin as Raj re-seated himself. “Sorry about that, hon. After the bodybuilder man-bitches spunked into my mouth, everyone else in the restaurant wanted to do the same,” Brett explained. Raj’s eyes floated cursorily around the dining room. Sure enough the rest of the guests were leaning back in their chairs, either patting their bellies with satisfaction, or pushing their junk back into their pants. “You sucked them all off while I was in the bathroom? I was only gone five minutes.” “That’s all it took, baby. So much jizz inside me now. I can only imagine what it’ll do when I incorporate it into my other miraculous fluids. But now let us eat.” Brett began to tear into the pizza stack. Raj forked up his pasta carefully and with gracious finesse. He happily partook of more wine. “How can you eat so fast with those juggernaut pecs in the way?” Raj added some parmesan and chilli flakes to his meal. “Yeah, my pulsating pectorals can be a little intrusive. But I’ll manage,” said Brett, wolfing through the first pizza like it was bite-sized. “You’ll get cheese and sauce all over your shirt, Brett,” Raj pointed out. “Well now, here’s the thing. House of Trione clothes are made to the highest standard. Fortunato designs for bodybuilders, the bigger the better. He knows that us big-chested guys may have trouble with food debris landing on our upper chests and not our plates. So he made the fabric resistant to staining. Anything that goes on it, can easily be dabbed off.” And as if to illustrate his point, Brett had a clumsy moment. Some cheese and sauce broke off the piece of pizza he chewed noisily, and splashed onto his white shirt, just at the spot where his upper left pec striated off from the lower part. Both portions of pectoral muscle were separated by a deep trench that seemed etched into the shirt itself. It was as though his muscles were pulling the shirt inwards through their striations, making it tighter and tighter with every flex. “Oops. Clumsy me. I guess I’ll have to take it off now, and eat completely shirtless. That way, any food I drop onto my enormous pecs will have to get licked off by my boyfriend.” “No don’t. You’ll have all the diners jizzing themselves again, not to mention the waiters and kitchen staff. No wonder our food was late,” Raj protested. “Ah, but watch this,” said Brett, and then with an authoritative bark: “Someone bring me some fucking club soda….pronto!!!” Several diners shot over to his table, each carrying a glass of soda water. He chose the first one to the table, a cute hipster guy with a manscaped beard and bun in his hair. He wasn’t buff, but toned and fit-looking. He’d make a pretty decent bodybuilder if he lifted weights. “Pour some of that on my shirt stain, cute stuff,” Brett ordered. The hipster didn’t need to be told twice. A wet patch appeared, which began to dilute the pizza stain. Brett then took a napkin in hand and tried to bring it close enough to his upper pec to dab off the stain. But his pec collided with his bicep and both flexed hugely, leaving no room whatsoever for Brett to get the napkin to where it needed to be. “Aw fuck… I’m so huge I can’t even touch my own pecs. Look at the fucking size of me.” Hipster guy groaned with arousal when he witnessed Brett’s upper body muscles bulging beyond belief. Raj decided to step in. “Here, let me do it.” He came over to Brett’s side of the table and took over napkin duty. Sure enough the stain came off easily, leaving clean, crisp whiteness in a shirt that was getting tighter and tighter as the evening advanced. The gaps between the buttons widened as Brett’s chest pumped larger than before. The buttons held, but for how long could they take the strain? “Say Raj, want to see more wet patches appear on my shirt… like… around the nipple areas?” Brett formed a cocky but mischievous grin. Raj’s erection sprung rigid inside his pants. Wine was once again making him heady. He was under Brett’s spell again. He thanked hipster guy by planting a kiss on his face enough to bring the bloke to complete orgasm. Then Brett ripped his hipster trousers off and sucked the spunk right out of his hipster shorts. Depleted but no less worn of ego, the hipster picked up his tattered trousers, rolled them into a ball, and sheepishly returned to his table. “I’m concentrating growth solely to my nips, Raj. Watch them bulge and sodden my shirt with muscle-milk.” Brett looked proudly down at himself and concentrated. It took little metamorphic effort to grow his nipples to enormous, but still very masculine, extremes. “That’s so… hot, Brett. You’re amazing,” gasped Raj, who was now fiddling with his flies beneath the table. Brett made straining noises through his nose and throat; it was so manly of him to do so. This helped his nips to grow and bulge and issue their elixir. Sure enough, dark, wet circles began to absorb into the shirt material. Brett flexed his neck and traps simply by grinning cheesily, but smiling alone was enough to blow up every muscle he had above the pectoral plateau which was now about to be claimed by its own personal bodybuilder’s rising sea level. The milk issue seeped further, expanding to completely drench the front of the shirt. Some of the milk squirted out from between the gaps in the shirt buttons. “I can make a fucking tsunami of tit-milk if I want. Fuck... this is amazing to be so powerful,” he laughed, throwing his head back to issue a guttural laugh that would make a drunk Klingon sound prepubescent. The other diners licked their lips hungrily as the scent of the sexual fluid from the biggest muscle-tits they’d ever seen reached their nostrils. The shirt clung more tightly to Brett’s body as it became wetter and wetter. Raj was so horny, but the wine in his system was helping to keep his boner from reaching ‘full mast’. “Brett, come on… there’s plenty of time for this sort of thing later. Tonight is supposed to be about you and me; especially you making it up to me for last night,” remonstrated Raj. He didn’t really mind what Brett got up to; it was all in the interest of science, after all. Brett stopped issuing tit-milk. His shirt now looked like wet tissue paper next to his beautiful skin. He thought about it for a moment. Then: “Yeah, you’re right. I’m such a pretentious prick at times. Let me go to the restroom to clean up. I won’t be long.” He rose from the chair, looking like a massive iceberg, and gazed smugly around the dining room. “This is for all you bitches and muscle-bitch wannabes… to remember me while I go clean up!” That said he fanned out his upper body into a come-inducing massive spread of lats, arms, and chest. He heaved out mass like never before, groaning and grunting and yelling as if expletives alone were enough to coax yet more massive growth from his already enormous muscle-bod. “I’m FUCKING H U U U U G E!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!” He exploded with size and power. His neck strained thickly and burst the bowtie from around it. It shot off somewhere, followed by a button. There was sound of something hard striking a wine glass. Another sound was the bowtie splashing into a bowl of consommé. The second button down on the shirt front popped off like a bullet. More chest was revealed. Veins popped out all over his body, clearly visible through the wet mesh shirt. “Look at the size of me. Look at my muscles. Get out your cocks and start pulling them off at the sight of this MAN GOD!!!!” Moans and groans reverberated throughout the dining room. All cooking halted in the kitchen as the staff rushed out to get a better look at Brett Hillard. “Don’t grow too much, Brett. I don’t want to look like a little kid dancing next to you in the nite-club afterward,” warned Raj. He’d gone through a whole bottle of wine. He sent an incomprehensible text to Dr. Weiss, who returned it with a simple “???” “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll explode out of the shirt later on. Gotta clean up now though,” Brett resolved, and with a massive boner of his own projecting out of his painted-on pants, he muscle-waddled to the restroom and had to both stoop and turn sideways to get through the door. He loved squeezing through doorways. It gave him an idea for later, especially if that asshole ex-Marine Chase Carmody was doing security at the door of the nite-club called “Fiesta”, the most exclusive gay nite-club in town. In the restroom: Brett became lost to more muscle posing as he caught sight of himself in the mirror array spanning a hand-washing area formed of gorgeous oyster-blue marble sinks with faux gold fittings. “Huh, I’ve more expensive shit in my penthouse bathroom. I’m so fucking rich and powerful. What a huge muscular smug bastard I am,” he scoffed, praising and loving everything about himself. He resisted the urge to hulk on another 500 lbs of incredible muscle, although it was hard to resist the urge to grow. He did a side chest pose, followed by a most muscular, captivated completely by his reflection in the mirror. Well, if he couldn’t gain mass, he could at least become inhumanly vascular. The shirt was soaking wet from tit-milk, so it was virtually translucent. He hulked and he hulked and the biggest, hardest, thickest network of serum-enriched, blood-gorged veins exploded out of his upper body. Ropes and pipes erupted out of his neck, chest, forearms. Big bicep veins — each as thick as bicycle tubes — pushed out of his cannonball arms. The gaps between the remaining buttons of his shirt stretched to near-bursting point. “HUGE. SO FUCKING HUGE. I GOTTA GET BIGGER. I GOTTA GET SO FUCKING HUGE!!!” Just when it seemed Brett would throw all caution to the wind and grow so huge he could smash the entire bathroom to rubble, the sound of a toilet flushing gave him pause. “Huh? It seems I’m not alone in here. Someone is being a pervy little voyeur while the muscle-god gets off to his bodybuilder’s mega-bod.” Brett went to the stalls and one at a time wrenched the doors off their hinges, tossing them aside. First two were empty. But the third: “Well, if it isn’t the lanky waiter that took too long bringing food to his god.” Brett eyed him with mock disgust, as he was feeling lusty but playful. He loved to play with people, not only to feel better about his ever-improving self, but also to humiliate and put them in their rightful places,which in his case was always beneath him. “Puh-please… don’t hurt me, Mr. Hillard,” the waiter said shakily. “Hummpff! What’s your name, beanpole?” “Er… Fred, sir.” “Fred what?” “Gaylord, sir.” “Fred Gaylord? Fred fucking Gay-LORD? What kind of a fucking name is that? I’d shoot my fucking parents dead if they branded me with a fuckin’ stupid name like that.” “Er… they’re both deceased… suh-sir!” Fred couldn’t make eye contact with the muscle-god, especially then they bored into the biggest, most delicious pectorals he’d ever seen, ones that could burst out of their owner’s shirt at any moment. “Yeah, well that name sucks. I am the only GAY LORD you will answer to. This restaurant is shit. The service is shit, and the food needs a ton of jizz on it to be even semi-palatable. And shouldn’t the staff be using their own bathroom and not the one for customers?” “Erm… the staff one is on the blink, sir. Maitre d’ said we could use this one for emergencies,” stammered Fred. “Hmm… I suppose I’ll allow it. But you have to make it up to me for the lousy service me and my boyfriend got here tonight.” Brett tried to fold his massive arms across his even more massive chest; an impossible task. Looking frightened out of his wits, Fred kept silent, afraid to say another word. Whatever Brett Hillard wanted him to do, he would have no choice but to do it. “I need to clean my shirt, see? It’ sodden with the gorgeous, tasty muscle milk I can make come out of my nipples. See how they poke out of my shirt like it’s fuckin’ painted onto my muscles?” Fred nodded gingerly. His entire body — all 140 lbs of it — quaked in trepidation. This being could kill him with just one finger if he wanted to. “Yeah, going to Fiesta later with my fella, so I don’t feel like going home to change. Also, I’m so fuckin’ strong that if I try to unbutton this shirt — not that I can even reach the top buttons because of the size of my pectoral beef slabs — I’m afraid it might disintegrate on me. You’re going to have to undress me. Freshen up my pants, too. I’m in commando mode, this evening. No undies. You’re gonna cower before a massive, naked behemoth of godly muscle, Fred. And pleasing me might reap a little reward for you.” Fred reticently obliged. He had a tendency to shoot his mouth off when overly nervous, so now was not the time to say anything that might cause Brett Hillard to crush him down to the size of a marble. “Come out of the stall and remove my shirt, Fred,” Brett commanded. Fred complied instantly. “Are you gay, Fred?” “Erm… nuh-no, sir. I duh-don’t thuh-think I’m anything, to be honest,” the waiter stammered. He was tall and thin, so there was only three or four inches of height difference between them, however their contrasting weights and sizes was a completely different matter. “So you’ve never had a sexual experience with a guy or a chick?” “Nuh-no, sir.” “Call me Brett. No need to be scared of me, Fred.” Brett softened a little. He was enjoying himself. “Thank you, Brett,” said Fred, tentatively unbuttoning the third and fourth buttons of the shirt which now missed the top two. The next button was the only one now supporting the massive racks of muscle within. They looked huge and heavy. “Before you undo the next button, Fred, I’ll allow you to cup the under-swell of my pecs. Feel their weight, and I assure you, they are fucking heavy bastards. Go on, dig your hands into the dark crescent moons formed by my pecs’ shadows,” Brett instructed. His breathing had become slow but guttural, each exhalation peppered with manly gravel. He breathed musky breath into Fred’s face as the supplicant waiter carefully cupped each pectoral belly. He’d never felt a bodybuilder’s chest before. They felt surprisingly soft, but each one had to weigh as much as a half sack of potatoes. “Notice the hugeness of my nipples, where my muscle milk comes from; the very milk that saturates my shirt. It’s as wet as the precum soiling your tighty whities, am I right?” Brett was so erect, now. The buttons of his flies groaned as his junk meat swelled and demanded release. Fred could only groan and whimper at this point. The giant pecs felt so good and so large in hands that seemed child-sized because of Brett’s huge dimensions. “You didn’t answer me, Fred. Is your underwear soiled with precum because you’re so turned on by my huge pecs and how they feel?” Brett grew more forceful, talking more slowly, and with more gravel. He grew increasingly more beautiful and dominant before the skinny waiter. “Yuh-yes, Brett,” Fred whimpered, knowing that an orgasm wasn’t far away. “I’m going to bounce my pecs, now, Fred. This will make them feel even heavier to you. My nips will grow larger. They point down, y’see, because my pecs are so hugely developed. You’re skinny, an adult who probably didn’t go through puberty right, and so now you’re a man, you don’t have any sexual proclivities. Would I be correct in my assumption?” Brett began to bounce his pecs, first the left one, drawing it up slowly, then letting it down, before doing the same with the right one. Each pec when drawn upward caused the striations to deepen and separate further. His upper pecs bulged obscenely because the lower pec bellies encroached on their space. The control he executed over his chest muscles bordered on the surreal. “Your tighty whities must be soaked through by now, Fred. Undo the next button on my shirt,” Brett instructed. Fred didn’t hesitate. He simply touched the button with a finger and the pressure of the pecs above did the rest. The front of the shirt billowed outward, revealing veins, striations, and glistening muscle-flesh that could only ever improve, should its master command it. “Now unfasten the rest of the buttons so that my abs are on show.” Brett fanned out his lats by raising up his arms so that his elbows pointed outward. Fred went to do his bidding. “Wait… are you… crying?” Brett noticed moisture had begun to well up in the corners of Fred’s eyes. This was enough to cause one of them to roll down a gaunt cheek. “Hey… don’t cry, little Fred. I’m only playing with you. You’ve nothing to worry about. I think this experience is overwhelming for you. I get that a lot.” And to show that he meant what he said, Brett gently wiped away Fred’s tear with his thumb. “There, you’re a man again, Fred. I won’t tell anyone you cried like a sissy all because I asked you to take off my shirt. Most guys would jump at the chance to do that. You should consider yourself amongst the privileged few. Actually ‘few’ isn’t quite accurate. No man can resist me.” “You’re very beautiful, Brett,” said Fred in a low tone. Seeing the muscle-god become a little gentler bolstered a modicum of confidence from the waiter. At least he could talk, now, without stammering. “Yeah, I am. Help me the rest of the way with the shirt. Then take off my pants.” Fred did as he was told. He removed the shirt and Brett took it and placed it into one of the sinks. He put a little hand soap onto it and then pushed the button to release warm water. Fred sank to his knees and went to undo the waistband button of Brett’s pants. Brett gently but firmly stopped his hand from doing so and instead guided it up to his ten-pack of abdominal bricks. “Feel my stomach, Fred. Your fucking asshole manager would have me sit in a fat man’s chair; from a fucking freak show, no less. Do I look fat to you? Is there a fucking ounce of fat covering my abdominal wall?” “Your abs are harder than the marble that make those sinks, Brett,” Fred agreed. He was no longer frightened of Brett. In fact, Brett Hillard’s form of humiliation was actually very arousing, to both of them. “Yeah, when I totally own this place, your Maitre d’ will be so out of a job, he’ll only ever be able to get work selling hot dogs on street corners.” Brett allowed Fred to run his fingers in and out of the hills and valleys formed of his incredibly developed and separated ab muscles. “I really need this job, Brett. If this restaurant goes under....” “Shhhh,” said Brett, pressing a finger to Fred’s lips. “After tonight you’ll be running this place, and I’ll give you four times your salary. Now shut up and roll down my pants.” ‘Rolling down’ was a fitting way to express the removal of lower garments from a massively huge bodybuilder. The fabric clung to his sequoia thighs like a second skin, and his crotch was so wet from precum that the pants had become saturated and slick with the stuff. When Fred got the pants far enough down, an ‘elephant’s trunk’ popped out at half-mast, curving slightly downward, more than a foot in length, and thicker than the fleshlight Fred kept under his bed. “What do you think of my muscle-dick, Fred? Do you think you’d be able to take all of it? It’s as big as a baseball bat, easily. Maybe bigger.” Brett kicked his pants off the rest of the way, losing his shoes and socks somewhere in the process. The muscle behemoth now stood over his skinny servant, with every inch of his body revealed. He flexed hugely, his muscles almost bursting from his skin. He was drunk with power and immense strength. Precum oozed from his dick slit like xenomorph spittle. Fred immediately dropped to his knees and began lapping it up like a starved puppy. “I taste so good, don’t I Fred. Maybe they should put me on the menu. The queues to get into this place would stretch across four or five blocks at least.” “So good, yes,” admitted the now ravenous Fred. “Hmm, I’d better get back to my boyfriend before he grows suspicious. I’m trying to be faithful to him, but I’m just so huge and gorgeous. There’s plenty of me to go around, right?” Brett raised his arms and blasted his biceps into monstrous relief. Muscles bulged out of muscles; double peaks that were eruptions of power on either side of his head. “Lick my biceps clean, and then lick my chest clean of tit-milk. Then you can suck me off. You didn’t answer me when I asked whether or not you can take every inch of my dick. It’s so big. You’d be screaming for mercy with me inside you. Do you want that? Or just to suck me off?” “I want it to split me in half,” implored Fred, his stomach now growing full from Brett’s precum. Brett thought about it a little. He really didn’t have the time. But then: “You lean over the sink with my shirt in it and scrub it clean. Then put it under the hand dryer. While you’re doing that, I’ll let your tight virgin ass take a couple of inches of my muscle dick. Maybe a little more. But clean my biceps and chest first, Fred.” Fred didn’t have to be told twice. He guzzled a sticky, sweaty glaze from each of Bretts huge biceps, and all the while he did, Brett found new ways and positions to flex them to their fullest. “Pull your dick off while you cleanse my pectorals, Fred,” Brett commanded, coolly. Fred managed to keep himself composed as his delicate tongue scoured tit-milk off Brett’s left muscle-tit. But he came in rivulets of steaming spunk half-way through cleaning the other pectoral. “Aw shittttt!” “It’s okay, Fred. I knew you wouldn’t be able to last. You’re weak, but it’s not your fault. I appreciate all you did for me. Finish up by cleaning my shirt and drying it off. I’m entirely grateful for your service.” “No, I need more, Brett!! More!” At which point Fred leaped at Brett, grabbing him around his titanic neck and using it for purchase whilst he enveloped Brett’s tight waist with his string-bean legs. Brett effortlessly ripped the trousers and apron away from Fred and easily positioned his ass over the shaft of his now rock-hard, upwardly pointing muscle dick. It seemed Fred had a kinky side, for he wore a backless jock-style brief beneath his uniform. Good, no more clothing had to be harmed with underwear that had a back-door. Brett’s dick was into him like a laser cutting into butter. Fred cried out, for he was so tight down there. After this encounter, the next bloke to fuck him would do so with plenty of room to spare. Fred panted profusely, squeezing the back of Brett’s neck, but not even making a dent. Brett’s muscle-flesh was warm and throbbing with life and so much raw energy, but it was also inviolable and unyielding. “Sssssss, so good… so much hurting,” Fred screamed. This goaded Brett to fuck him further. He slid another two inches of super-schlong into Fred’s hole, scoring him through, but taking his virginity like no other man ever could. Fred repeatedly kissed Brett’s pecs throughout his deflowering, but then Brett allowed their lips to meet. It was surprisingly pleasant for both. “Never let this end…puh-pleeeese,” Fred rasped, in complete throes of agony balanced perfectly by ecstasy. He was being fucked by a muscle-god, the most beautiful man in all creation. It would be selfish of him to think that he could have Brett Hillard all to himself until the end of his days. What about that poor fellow out in the dining area, his boyfriend? Did such a concept of monogamous pairing-up even register with someone like Brett? Fred came again; this time the orgasm was more powerful, but his emission was minor. Brett could have fucked him harder, inserting more of his muscle-dick, and although Fred wanted it, it would only have landed him in the emergency room… or worse… the morgue. Besides, the night wasn’t getting any younger. And Brett wanted to go dancing with Raj, and do all kinds of muscle-related things that would consistently keep him in an egotistical spotlight. “Okay, off you come,” said Brett, easily removing Fred from the first four inches of his baseball bat schlong. The head of the penis came out with a ‘pop’ sound. It was almost amusing. “Now wash and dry my shirt, Maitre d’ Gaylord. I think my ‘hubby’s’ getting suspicious.” Fred would be sore in the morning, probably unable to even get out of bed. But at least he’d have four times his current salary, as new manager of The Pulled Plum. And he got to experience Brett Hillard up close and personal. Memories of this night would keep him in wank material for the rest of his life. He decided there and then to name his fleshlight ‘Brett’. Some minutes later Brett, now back in his muscle-clothes, waddled back to his table to find Raj passed out from too much wine. “Ah shit, wake up you party pooper. You’re no fun falling asleep on me. We’re going dancing at Fiesta. Come on!” Brett whacked the table once with a mighty fist, causing one of the legs to buckle. Raj woke with a start. “Wha —? Demons in the Punjab? Where? Wait… huh? Oh, still at dinner.” Raj gazed confusedly about him, as his senses gradually came back in sync with his surroundings. A massively beautiful bodybuilder hulked before him, looking powerful and radiating size and dominance to all around him. “Did ya miss me, honey?” Brett flirtatiously bounced his pecs, just because he could. “How long wuz I out?” “Not long. I’m all cleaned up from the restroom. They have some really interesting waiter service here. Come on… I want to own Fiesta and mess with that fucker Carmody if he’s on the door. You’re gonna love what I do next,” said Brett. And when it seemed Raj couldn’t get up from the chair under his own steam, Brett scooped him up as if he weighed nothing at all and slung him over one shoulder. Bringing his arm up to hold Raj in place caused the underarm seam of his shirt to split away from the torso panel. The shirt hadn’t long to live. On the way out Brett stuffed a credit card into the stupefied Maitre d’s’ mouth, a somewhat gormless expression permanently etched into the gnarly little man’s face. “Pin number’s ‘2378’, you puny wretch. Knock yourself out.” That said, Brett stomped out of the restaurant with Raj over one shoulder. The night was young. And Brett Hillard owned every moment. Coming Next: Chapter 7 of George and Aaron: A Love Story (the companion to this story)
  4. This is just a quick story to help me clear my head whilst I cook up more of the bigger stuff. Enjoy! MY GRANDAD’S MUSCLES Part 1 of 2. My father’s father became a recluse after his wife died. I never saw much of my grandparents growing up, but Grandad had a good reason for not showing up for Granny’s funeral. It was because my deadbeat father was there, and that was enough of an excuse. They’d hated each other. My father was never sober for more than a few hours at a time. My mother was just as bad, only her poison of choice were prescription painkillers chased down with as much weed as she could get hold of. So yeah, Grandad sold his business in the city and moved west to run a farm. It had always been his dream to completely get out of the rat race and live off the grid. We wrote to each other after he moved away. To be honest, I’d not seen much of him as a kid. He was always busy running his gyms. He had four of them. Once he’d even offered my father an olive branch by giving him his own gym to manage, if only he’d get off the booze. But dear old Anthony Ridge was too far gone, and his liver was on its last legs. Alcohol doesn’t just destroy your body and mind. It also wrecks family units. Speaking of ‘units’, we lost our home in 2010 because our mortgage arrears were crazy, so we had to move into a unit in a trailer park after the bank took back what was theirs. I didn’t really mind. There was just the three of us. And the unit was small enough not to accumulate too many possessions that could be thrown around during drink-fuelled rows. At least my father never raised his hand to me. He fell asleep one night with a lit cigarette in his mouth. My mother had already collapsed into bed, high from her cocktail of back pain meds and weed. I was staying over at my friend Rod’s place, which was what saved my life. By the time the fire brigade got the fire under control, the unit was just a smouldering shell of its former self. After my parents were laid to rest, at a modest ceremony attended mostly by my mother’s side of the family, I got a letter from my Grandad. He wasn’t one for using phones, so letters were his thing. He asked me how I was doing. I was staying at Rod’s; he’d been my crush since early secondary school, and for a time it was just me and him. But now he’d gotten Cindy Fleming up the duff, so things weren’t good between Rod and his folks. Too many arguments. And since the unforeseen pregnancy Rod and me started quarrelling more than I cared for. When I told this to my Grandad in a letter, the reply I got back inside of a week said simply: “Come and live with me.” The letter came with train fare and a map on how to reach the farm. I had just finished my final exams at secondary school, so it was either get a job at a fast food place, or go live with my hermit grandparent. I really didn’t have great prospects, and Rod and me were drifting in different directions anyway. I decided to accept my Grandad’s offer. I took with me only what I could carry. Rod’s dad wanted to drive me to the station, but I declined. I needed to stand on my own two feet anyway. Besides, the train station was only a few minutes away by bus. The train ride took three hours. I arrived in the quaint village of Dundrevan just when it started to rain. It was a little after four in the afternoon. I took shelter in a tavern not far from the station. It was a poky little place; only two customers, one an elderly man nursing a pint in a corner. The other was a guy about my age, very handsome, but clearly drunk. Just as I entered, the barman was advising him he’d had enough to drink and to stop tearing up beer mats and flicking the pieces everywhere. “Do you do hot food?” I asked the barman. Only toasted sandwiches were served here, but I hadn’t eaten since breakfast at Rod’s, so anything would be welcomed. So I had a toasted cheese and ham sandwich and pot of tea. I never touch alcohol; I vowed from an early age never to turn into my father. When the rain stopped I decided to follow the map route to the farm. It was about a mile outside the village, but I didn’t mind the walk. The sun had come out and it even started to get a bit warm. I considered taking my shirt off; we Ridge men are blessed with really great genetics. I didn’t work out at all, but I looked like I did. Although my skin was a tad milky, my chest and abs were quite defined. I had a bit of muscle on me, and I wasn’t afraid to show it off. But this place was really deserted, so no one would see me. Or so I thought. I made my way down a narrow laneway with honeysuckle bushes to my left, and seemingly endless wooden fencing with the bark left on, to my right. At the end of the lane I was about to pass a phone box, when someone stepped out of it and looked at me as though he’d known me all his life. “Fuck me, lad. If you’re not related to big Gordie Ridge, then I’m a monkey’s uncle.” The man was in his forties, a bit overweight, with a comb-over to hide his bald patch. His shirt looked like it hadn’t been ironed, ever, and he smelt of onions. But he seemed jolly, and at least he wasn’t carrying a knife with intent to rob me of my duffel bag. “Er, he’s my Grandad. I’m going to stay with him at his farm,” I said simply. He was right in the sense that facially I looked more like my Grandad than my father. “Well now, this is the thing. You’ve got quite the walk ahead of you, lad. And you might want to cover yourself up there. You have to pass the convent and you’ll give the nuns heart attacks with all those muscles on ya!” I liked this man immensely. “I’m not really that muscled,” I said, feigning bashfulness. Like I said, I didn’t work out. What I had on me was a natural thing passed down. Pity my late father decided to abuse his body rather than maximise on what nature gifted him with. “Well no… no you’re not, if you don’t really mind me saying. But the folks around here are somewhat in awe of Gordie Ridge. He’s like a folk legend around these parts. But you can tell you’re a chip off his block, definitely. My name’s Silas, by the way. Silas Brandywine at your service.” “I’m Stephen. Stephen Ridge,” I said, putting my shirt back on. I didn’t want any nun fatalities on my conscience. “Why are people in awe of my Grandad?” I thought back to when I last saw him. I was seven, so ten years ago. He was big, then, but nothing jaw-dropping, although back then I viewed him through the eyes of a kid. I remember seeing weight-lifting trophies at his house, but I’d only been there a couple of times. Silas eyed me with a twinge of curiosity that made his eyes gleam and his ruddy complexion to bloom as he concentrated his visual summary of me. “Haven’t seen him recently, have we, Stephen Ridge?” The community police officer in an archaic Fiat Panda trundled past, sounded the horn at Silas, who summarily waved back. This was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone, and was about two decades behind the rest of the world. “Not since I was a nipper, Silas,” I chirped, trying to be pleasant. I was tired from the journey, but I was grateful for not having a short fuse. “Oh well then, I might give ye a bit of advice, kiddo.” Silas drew closer to me as though he were about to reveal the secret to life itself. “When you faint at the sight of him, make sure you land on something soft, lest you crack your head right open to let out the shock.” “Er, okay… I think.” I decided to continue on my way. I stopped just before the convent. A mischievous thought ran through my mind in which I was topless once again and flirting with the nuns working in their apiary, causing them to come over all flushed and taken by my boyish good looks. I decided against it. Did they even have an apiary? For some reason I believed that all monks and nuns kept bees. After the convent the map told me to cross a field as a shortcut. I walked for another fifteen minutes, maybe. Then I came to a red iron gate, recently painted by the looks of it. A sign nearby said: “Ridge Farm. Keep Out!” So I’d arrived. I wondered how many acres of land my Grandad owned. It was the only farm for miles around. I couldn’t see any livestock, but maybe he wasn’t that kind of farmer. Then I saw the out-buildings beyond a range of oak trees. There were three white, rectangular sheds; obviously these were the nucleus of Grandad’s farming enterprise. Beyond that nothing but trees, trees, and more trees. The house itself was typically rural, probably a hundred years old or more. There was a barn and a pen in the courtyard with six pigs in it. So maybe he was a pig farmer. But if so why did he only own six pigs? My Grandad was in the barn. I could hear him singing, although I couldn’t put a name to the tune. There was a lot of clanking of metal, and grunting to go along with the singing. I didn’t want to frighten him by just appearing at the door; he was in his sixties, after all. Isn’t it dangerous to sneak up on an old person? Then I noticed an old-fashioned bell sitting on a windowsill up at the house. I opted to use it to announce my presence. The grunting, singing, and clanking noises ceased. I’d gotten my Grandad’s attention. He came out of the barn. I looked at him. My breathing seized up. Silas Brandywine had been right about one thing. I fainted. *** When I came to I was lying on a couch in what could only be the living room of the farmhouse. I immediately noticed the renovations; the door frames were taller and wider than standard door frames. The ceiling, too, looked higher than you’d expect a ceiling to be. The interior furnishings were rustic and old fashioned. A painting of a milkmaid milking a cow hung over a spartan mantel. A grandfather clock in a corner ticked somnolently. Shafts of dying sunlight permeated the room in which dust motes seemed to hang, fixed rigidly in time itself. I instinctively felt my head for evidence of injury, but there was none. I was thankful for that. As my senses grew more attuned to my surroundings, my nose picked up the delicious smell of… was it beef stew? I got up from the couch, a little wobbly on my feet, but I soon regained my balance. I followed the smell of the stew to the large kitchen at the rear of the house. It needed to be big, because my Grandad was, well… HUGE! He was shirtless, save for an apron which he let hang untied at the back. His back was the widest, most muscular back I’d ever seen. And there wasn’t a hair on his back or shoulders, unlike my dad who seemed to have gotten the hairy gene from my grandmother’s side. He wore khaki cargo shorts and was barefooted. I gauged his height to be between 6’ 10 and 7’; the Ridge men had always been tall. I myself stood at an impressive 6’ 4”. At 18 I probably wasn’t done growing yet. My dad had stopped growing at 6’ 5”, the waster. He could have been impressive, instead of a deadbeat. Gordon Ridge wasn’t a weight-lifter; well, maybe he was in his younger days. But now he was utterly a bodybuilder, and the biggest, most muscular man I’d ever seen. “Uh...Grandad?” “Hope you’re hungry. My beef stew is the best in the world, Stephen. You’re probably famished from your trip.” My Grandad turned around. I feel terrible for admitting this, but my dick instantly firmed up at the sight of him. Yeah, I know we’re related, but I wasn’t prepared for what he had built of himself. I blamed my stiffy on a chemical impulse in my brain, or something like that. He was incredibly handsome. So what if he was sixty-four? He’d been stunning-looking in his youth, as I recall. Time had been good to his brand of handsomeness, with lines of age in his face that would look destructively hampering on others. But on him they gave him a wisdom that commanded respect, along with his obvious size and strength. Thank heavens I hadn’t tucked in my shirt; it hid my arousal well. I really didn’t want Grandad to get a ‘pervy’ vibe from me. I didn’t want him to know I’m gay, not yet anyway. I had no idea what he thought of such things. I hoped he wasn’t a homophobe like my father was. “I could use a hot meal, thanks.” I tried not to stammer. But he could clearly tell I was astonished by how he looked. He was overwhelming. “You’ve grown up well, Stephen. You were only a bean when last I saw you. What are you, six three, six four?” “Four,” I replied shakily. Grandad’s smile was warm and reassuring. I had nothing to fear here. “I was shorter than you at that age. But as you can see, a lot of growth came later.” He wasn’t smug, or modest, so when his arm raised up to form a single bicep pose, I think he did it without realising. A huge, melon-ball bicep formed and bulged upon his command. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. He picked up on this and played it down with a chuckle. All he said was: “Thirty-one inches. So far.” He winked proudly and went back to tending to the stew. He suggested I wash up before supper. He told me where the bathroom was. I was so relieved to get up there so that I would masturbate, get that over with, and, hopefully, keep my arousal to a minimum. This is purely chemical with me. There is no way I would allow myself to develop an unhealthy attraction to my own progenitor. When I returned to the kitchen, there was a big bowl of stew waiting for me. Grandad was already seated on the other end of the big oak table. He tore off a chunk of bread from a sizeable loaf before handing it over to me. “I like to dip the bread in and use it like a spoon. Then I just drink down the remainder out of the bowl. I don’t get many guests up here,” he said between chews. A quivering smile formed on my lips, so I decided to copy his method, and dipped some bread into the stew. It was very tasty, and he didn’t skimp on the beef either. The obvious elephant in the room was his physique, but he didn’t seem interested in bringing it up during our first meal together. “Thank you for taking me in, Grandad. I was at a bit of a crossroads,” I said. I can’t remember ever eating a meal this good. My mother had never been one for cooking. Dinner had almost always been take-out back then. Living at Rod’s had been better, but because both his parents worked, dinner was usually more convenient than nutritious. This was new to me. I ate three big hunks of bread and finished all the stew in my bowl whilst Grandad helped himself to seconds, and then thirds. “Sorry, but I have to eat big to stay big,” he said, after demolishing the third bowl. He let out a very loud and very manly belch, then leaned back in his big farmhouse chair and patted his cobbled belly. He still had the apron on. I really hoped he’d remove it. But sitting opposite him gave me plenty of time to take in the enormity of this man. He really was a super-human in every sense of the word. His rugged, handsome head was supported by the thickest bull-neck I’d ever seen. It just seemed to widen as it sloped down to his mammoth traps, and they in turn sat on shoulders capped with thick, rippled deltoids. He had to be at least five feet wide at the shoulders, maybe more. His chest was just beautiful; thick, bloated pectoral masses that made the neck of the apron look like a length of yarn threaded through a handkerchief. I loved the way he had to lean forward and hunker down over his bowl so as not to get any stew on the table. This position highlighted his shoulders best, for he flexed and bulged his muscles without thinking. His biceps and forearms looked powerful enough to snap concrete blocks in two (I had no idea as to feats of strength he’d demonstrate for me later). “Um, you don’t wear shirts then?” Oh why did I go and ask that? I could’ve asked him about the farm, and what he did here, but I had to let my dick do the talking instead. I hope he didn’t take offence. He smiled and ran a finger around his bowl to pick up the last dregs of stew, which he then sucked clean. His bad manners at the table made him human. His muscles made him a god. “I mostly wear just jockstraps when I’m alone here. I get them specially made. Really comfortable and with just the best support a man can get. But the shorts are out of respect for you being here.” Oh my god, I felt myself thinking. That is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. I think I needed to wank again. My Grandad was not only super-huge, he was super-sexy. I had to think about the nuns at the convent I’d passed earlier, running around in only their knickers whilst chased by swarms of angry bees. That helped with my arousal a little. “I wear jocks sometimes. Rod and me were on the school rugby team, but we sucked at it.” I just wanted to keep the subject of jockstraps alive. “Who’s Rod?” “My best friend. I was living with him and his family for a bit after the… you know.” I didn’t want to bring up the subject of the fire. I knew enough about Gordon Ridge to know that he never discussed anything to do with his son. “It was good of them to put you up like that. But I’m kin. Your place is with me now.” Grandad got up to clear the bowls into the sink. He emptied what was left of the stew into a plastic container and placed it in the fridge. I helped by washing up. Later Grandad said he was going back to the barn. “What do you get up to there?” I asked, as if I didn’t already know. “Bodybuilding,” said Grandad with a smirk. He took off the apron and chucked it into a basket he kept for dirty laundry. I could finally get a proper look at his torso. Every muscle was just popping out of him. He was ripped beyond belief, but carried immense size also. I couldn’t begin to guess at his weight, but he was at least three times as big as a Mr Olympia super-heavyweight competitor. Why the hell did he shy away from public life and waste all this muscle on a lonely farm in the middle of nowhere? If I looked like him I’d be all over the internet, doing talk shows, winning trophies, being fucking amazing and loving every moment. I guess he had his reasons. “Oh Grandad, you’re enormous,” I couldn’t keep myself from mouthing. He smiled warmly, his face creasing up with wrinkles that only complimented his good looks. “One day, maybe,” he said simply. My erection bloomed under my shirt. The thought of this white-haired behemoth actually getting bigger than he was now almost made me bust a nut there and then. “You… you, don’t think you’re… er… big enough?” I stammered. My cock hurt inside my shorts. It needed adjusting. “Nope… not by a mile, Stephen.” And to illustrate his point he flexed a most muscular which caused alarmingly defined muscularity to burst from his skin. Every last part of him heaved with muscle clarity, and as he grunted and groaned — leaning into the pose with rising force — his face and neck flared red from the effort. He kept flexing, demanding more blood to course into his muscle fibers. I felt my own blood coursing as I witnessed this incredible spectacle. “I’ll never be big enough,” he grunted, this time changing to a full lat spread pose. His upper body widened and thickened; his pecs heaved upward and deep striations cracked across their mighty surfaces. He partially rolled up his shorts before lifting his arms to clasp the back of his head with his hands. He then pulled his abs taut. They almost crunched with definition. He rolled his mighty thighs one after the other, and the clusters of muscles there boiled with size and ferocious power. He relaxed and flexed, alternating between the two in order to give me quite the show. I don’t think he was aware of his own erection, but I could see the tenting happening in the front of his khakis. It didn’t feel weird. We were two guys hanging out, right? Then he said: “Come to the barn. Watch me lift.” My mouth formed an aghast “O” shape. I was related to probably the biggest bodybuilder in the world, and now he was inviting me to watch him lift. I had two choices: I could accept his invitation, and, hopefully find some way to ‘relieve’ myself again without him noticing, or I could run for the hills back to Rod’s place and put all this out of my mind. But Grandad had shown me nothing but kindness, so it would have been wrong of me to run out on him, especially now that night was fast approaching. Once the pigs were put into their night enclosure, Grandad and me went into the barn. It smelt a little of pig-shit, but he filled his lungs with a great deal of it and it seemed to energise him a little. I supposed I’d have to get used to the smells of farm life. It was as typical a barn as barns come, although there was a squat rack, bench, and free weights present. As he lit oil lamps I could see more things, specifically a leg press machine and another for doing lat pull-downs. He pretty much had his own gym here; he used to be in the business so he used what he needed to isolate every muscle-group. But there was nothing magical about the set-up here. How, then, did he get so big? There was also a scale in the barn, one you see at livestock fairs. Obviously a standard human scale was too small for my Grandad. He stepped out of his shorts and flung them over his shoulder. It was as though he was suddenly unaware that he had a guest. He went over to the scale and stood confidently on the pressure pad. “Hunngh! Only five up from yesterday,” he grunted. He looked disappointed. “Five… pounds?” I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. But then he’d just eaten a lot of food, so the scale was obviously picking up on that. “I gained fifteen pounds on Wednesday. That was a good day. Only five since yesterday. Gotta lift now, Stephen”. Oh well, at least he was aware of me again. The jockstrap looked amazing on him. It was white and black; the thick black waistband married well with the white pouched front and supporting straps at the rear. He was beautiful to look at. Every last inch of him was manliness exaggerated beyond belief. And as he muscle-waddled over to the bench to begin his evening presses, his dick meat and weighty gonads bobbed and swung heavily before him. He was very hung, but then, so was I. Well, not as much as he was, but I had a dick worthy of a porn-star. Those Ridge genes again. Fifteen pounds, did he say? But such gains so quickly were impossible. Maybe there was something in the water. But if that were so, then the few people I’d so far met from the village didn’t reflect this theory. It had to be something else. I couldn’t chalk it up to just genetics alone. If that was the reason, then… did it mean that I, too, had the potential to look like Grandad? I was stunned to silence as I watched him deftly load up the bar with crazy amounts of weight. I did a quick count of the plates and added the weight up to be… fuck… a metric tonne? Could a bar really hold that much? Maybe this gear was specially reinforced for Grandad. Didn’t he need a spotter? He positioned himself correctly on the bench, and gripped the bar firmly enough to make his knuckles glow white. He eased it off the rests and took the strain. It wobbled a little at first, but as his confidence grew, so did his strength. He let the bar come down near his enormous pecs. Then he pressed up, slowly at first, but once a rhythm kicked in, a man/machine synergy came into effect. I watched Grandad own the iron, play with it like it was a toy, and press it repeatedly, over and over. It was as if his chest grew with every inhalation, every measured, controlled movement. And when he exhaled, it was audibly masculine in its output. By the time he’d hit his seventieth or eightieth rep, he was screaming like a man possessed. I actually felt a little scared of him at this point, but I was as rigid as my erection, now, transfixed to the spot and unable to stop myself from being ‘blown away’ by the power of my father’s father. He got up from the bench when he was done, and flexed his pecs a few times. Then he cupped each one firmly and felt up their combined mass. “Good pump there,” he said simply. He pounded them a little, like the way gorillas sometimes do with their chests. It was so manly. I turned around to adjust my junk in my pants. Grandad didn’t seem to notice. He’d already moved over to the leg press. The machine was set to two tonnes. I couldn't believe the numbers. “Climb on up, Stephen. I could do with the extra weight,” Grandad said with a smirk. “Oh, er….I,” I didn’t know what to say. I suddenly felt awkward. And I really wanted to shoot another load. “I hope you’re not afraid of heights, lad. You’ll be helping me out around the place, and some of the work will involve climbing. You’ll have to get used to it.” His tone was more adamant-sounding now. I was fine with it. I wasn’t one for freeloading off my generous grandfather and had every intention of pulling my weight and doing my fair share (whatever that turned out to be). “Er, okay. I’ll get right up there, Grandad,” I responded. I gingerly climbed up onto the carriage of the machine. Not the most comfortable thing to sit on, I must add. I had to somehow wedge my arse between the weights and the foot plate, although my feet occupied the side of the foot plate opposite where Grandad’s feet were positioned confidently and correctly. Looking down at him from this angle — where he was seated at an incline — he was all chest and groin, both of which bulged almost obscenely. He was clearly erect himself, but that was fine. We were two guys hanging out, right? He was just showing off, getting me to climb onto the carriage. I mean, I only weigh about 225, so my weight on top of two fucking tonnes was negligible. “Ready? Hang on to your britches,” said Grandad. And he began to take the strain. At first I thought he was going to tear some muscles and lose to the weight. I had visions of tumbling off the thing. But this didn’t happen. He began to push the colossal weight; it barely looked as if he was straining. His face showed only determination; other than that it was devoid of emotion. He almost looked disappointed at how easily his juggernaut legs pushed both the weight and his grandson upwards, over and over. I held on as best I could, but after thirty or so repetitions, I began to feel seasick. Grandad sensed this and decided to let me off. “The machine is maxed out. I'll need a new one designed. Maybe there's a way to lash two together, one for each leg.” He suddenly seemed lost in thought. “Your legs definitely got a good pump there,” I remarked, and this seemed to please my progenitor to the point where he blasted out one pose after another. I wanted to ask him what his secret was. But I decided it could wait. I needed to use the toilet in order to ‘rub one out’ again. But before I could leave the barn: “So you like your old Grandad’s physique, huh?” Grandad bounced his hefty pecs over and over. I couldn’t help but notice how his cock was so swollen and hard, it had pushed the waistband of the jockstrap away from his body. I felt inwardly disgusted for allowing my gaze to linger there. If he noticed, he didn’t seem to care. “You’re like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” He came over to me and ruffled my brown hair, like he did when I was seven. I didn’t mind if he still saw me as that little kid from ten years ago. “Ever thought about bodybuilding?” I shrugged. Sure, I had inherited the best genetics a guy could ever hope for. Maybe I could do more with my body. “Not really. I just try to focus on not ending up like dad!” SHIT, I shouldn’t have mentioned him in Grandad’s presence. “That alcoholic piece of CRAP!!!!!” Grandad’s temper erupted. From what I knew of him, I’d always seen him as an easy-going, never angry type. But now… He swelled up in size; was it my imagination or did he really have the power to ‘hulk out’? He did that growling “Incredible Hulk” pose you often saw the character do on the show just before the Hulk ripped off the remains of his shirt and after Bixby changed into Ferrigno,. Muscles and veins bulged hugely under his skin. There was the back half of a broken tractor just outside the barn. He jogged over to it and began to lift it off the ground. How much did half a tractor weigh anyway? Seething with anger, my grandfather lifted the machinery over his head like an average human might lift a toddler onto their shoulders. Then he ripped it to pieces and flung the pieces far and wide. I prayed they wouldn’t hurt someone. “I did everything for him,” he barked, and the pigs nearby began squealing and adding to the ruckus. I think Grandad needed to calm down. I was genuinely scared now. He made a most muscular pose and more and more huge muscles bulged insanely all over him. Was he… growing? Snarling like a slavering beast, he tore up a length of fencing, posts and all, and hurled them into a far field. Then he muscle-bounded around to a garage area, and I almost wet myself when he single-handedly ripped the door off the garage and then dragged a four-wheel drive outside where he could better pick it up. My Grandad was lifting a fucking jeep like is was made of balsa wood. “I even gave him his own gym. But what’d he do? Got fucking wasted again. Didn’t even try the 12 steps. Well I’ll give him 12 fucking steps alright. GRRRRRAAAAAWWWWRRRR!!” I’d never seen a jeep do an impersonation of an aircraft before. How high did he throw it anyway? I listened for a crash sound. After thirty seconds, nothing. A minute passed. Maybe it came down in a lake. Who was to say? I was terrified of my Grandad now. I shouldn’t have mentioned my father to him. I plucked up the courage to leave the barn where I’d been standing just inside the entrance. My Grandad was rampaging about the farm, looking for more things to destroy. Out of sheer desperation, the pigs broke out of their enclosure and ran for their lives, squealing noisily. Grandad made eyes at the house itself. If he could throw a jeep so far, then he could easily demolish a house with his fists. Where would we live then? I needed to intervene. “Grandad… stop… please. Anthony’s dead, remember? I promise I’ll never mention him again. Just please don’t smash anything else.” That seemed to calm him down. My Grandad was even bigger now. I couldn’t believe such a thing was possible. He was totally naked since his ‘hulk out’ had caused his junk to grow to humongous proportions. Somewhere about the farm, his jock lay in tatters. His mighty chest heaved with every exerted breath. It looked as though he was still pumping up. It’d been a crazy day. My massively muscular Grandad was a giant of a man, and completely naked before me. Strangely, my erection had subsided, and I was glad I could think with my brain again. He was silent for a time. Then: “I’m sorry about that, Stephen. I’ll go put some clothes on.” A kind, warm smile returned, replacing a face of pure malice and rage. “Just a jockstrap will do, seeing as you’re used to that and all,” I remarked, trying to further lighten the moment. Then I took my shirt off, just because it seemed right. I left my pants on, though. That would have been weird. Grandad gave me the once-over and nodded his approval. “You should lift, lad. You remind me of myself when I was your age. Although, I had a good fifty pounds on you. Come inside. I have an apple pie in the fridge. I always eat pie after a workout.” And so that was how my first day went living with my super-strong, massive bodybuilding Grandad. I’d probably spend the night beating off in my new bed. Turned out the pie tuckered me out and I decided to turn in. Grandad was bigger now, so he struggled in places around the house that weren’t designed to accommodate his new size. He’d have to make more renovations. But at least there still was a house to renovate. WHAT IS THE SECRET TO GORDON RIDGE’S INCREDIBLE MUSCLE-GROWTH? AND WHAT MYSTERIES ABOUT THE FARM WILL BE REVEALED TO STEPHEN? IS HE DESTINED TO BE HUGE LIKE HIS GRANDAD? FIND OUT IN THE CONCLUSION TO THIS STORY. Click HERE
  5. Sorry this took so long to get out. I’m going to post shorter chapters more often from now on. So before the latest chapter, here is a quick recap of what’s happened so far: Brett Hillard, a mega-rich arrogant sonofabitch — who values himself over anything else alive on the planet — takes part in an experiment to get huge muscles, performed by Dr. Herman Weiss. It gives Brett the power to grow to any size and weight at will. It also gives him the ability to produce ‘tit-milk’ from his nipples, which, when combined with his super-charged spunk, can make others grow temporarily into huge bodybuilders so he can fuck them without hurting them badly. Weiss’s assistant, Raj — enamoured with Brett since the get go — is invited to move in with bodybuilder mega-millionaire, to live in his penthouse and observe how the results of the experiment play out. Brett sees him as his live-in boyfriend, but his lust for muscle-growth and sex makes it hard for him to stay faithful. When he goes to the gym post-experiment, he grows monstrous and also uses his fluids to morph many of the bodybuilders working out there, all of whom benefit from a right ‘servicing’ from the ever-lustful godly bodybuilder/model. One young bodybuilder, Declan (called Mouse Boy by Brett) gets bigger than the others (becoming the first in the gym to be fucked by Brett), and later, when he’s evicted from his apartment, moves into the Hillard penthouse, along with a live-in chef called Pete, or ‘Chef Guy’. After a ‘lovers’ quarrel’ in their bedroom, Raj moves into a spare bedroom whilst Declan, hungry for sex and fueled by muscle-lust, demands sex from Brett. In a feat that cannot be predicted, he loses his cool with Brett and actually out-muscles him, growing enormous and incredibly strong. Brett needs to regain the upper hand, so as Declan pumps his spunk into him from behind, Brett also gorges on his own super-serum-charged fluids, causing him to shrink down and make his body denser than ever. Weakened, Declan shrinks, and Brett gets stronger and denser, finally stopping at 750 lbs, his new default weight. Declan returns to 300 lbs. Whilst this was going on, Raj filmed it all, for Dr Weiss. Brett apologises to Raj for being a jerk and not considering his feelings. Raj is reluctant to grow himself, not until the volatile effects of the experiment can be fully understood and locked down. Brett’s new size means he has no clothes that fit, and so he gets onto a renowned designer to work around the clock to design him new ensembles so that Raj and Brett can go out on a proper date the following evening. Parts 1-4 HERE Part Five: Flexingly Late Brett decided that he and Raj should show up separately at The Pulled Plum, one of the fanciest restaurants in town. This place was hugely popular for the style of cuisine, service, and atmosphere it provided. It originally only opened on Valentine’s Day, because as well as fine dining, you could drink champagne in the Jacuzzis provided, chill out in the complimentary steam rooms, and have full blown fuckin’ sex in the toilets without incurring any kind of penalties. It proved so popular with primarily gay men, that the management decided to open it all year around. Obviously there was a waiting list a mile long to get in, but Brett Hillard owned shares in the place, so he was never refused. The Incredibly Aesthetic Muscle-God never accepted ‘No’ for an answer. So here is how the evening played out: As romantic as a Narcissistic self-centered arrogant prick can be, Brett decided to have Raj get ready from a plush hotel room three blocks away (actually Brett owned the hotel outright, and all of the staff were male and buff as fuck). Brett, of course, would be fashionably late due to posing his muscles in front of the mirror as he got himself ready. Raj would just have to get used to it. Raj would then be driven by limousine to the restaurant, where he would be immediately shown to the best table in the house, one that was slightly raised above the others, so that the other diners would be able to easily get aroused at the sight of the muscle-god eating up all their air. Raj was excited; he’d never been on a date before. Yeah, there’d been Grindr hook-ups and shit like that, but he had never been on a proper date, certainly not one that would cost his boyfriend thousands of dollars. The waiter was tall and slim, but very handsome. His fake French accent wasn’t very convincing though. But that would hardly cost The Pulled Plum a Michelin star or two. “Would sir like to view the wine list,” he said with his overly-stressed fake brogue. Raj said he’d wait for his date to arrive and smiled politely, but on the cautious side of sheepish. Raj wasn’t much of a drinker, but he was a little nervous. He was worried about how Brett would conduct himself on this, their special romantic evening. Still, part of him was still in ‘work mode’, so observing Brett’s behaviour post experiment was still within his pay grade. Brett was an hour late. Of course he would be. He was in love with himself, and spent the best part of that hour trying on new garments and then hulking out of them, getting one monster hard-on after another, growling and flexing, and spewing semen all over his bedroom. Nearby Declan worked out incessantly, keeping a low profile, but getting horny off the thick aroma of Brett’s spunk which hung in the air like a sluggishly reluctant form of aether. “I suppose I’d better get to the restaurant before I upset Raj again,” Brett resolved, finally settling on a gauzy white button-up shirt, with pink bow tie and matching pink belt (the buckle was stylised with the embossed letters: HUNK). The shirt looked painted on and every muscle was near to bursting every last seam. It felt great on him. He accompanied the shirt with charcoal ‘skinny jeans’, although on a bodybuilder his size, they took on the texture and fit of workout jeggings. Still, he was a gay man — a VERY gay, horny bodybuilder of a man — and so his clothes must reflect not only his status as a super-rich, massively muscular bodybuilder, but a gay one at that; a muscle-god capable of fucking the shit out of any bloke that crossed his path. No man could resist him. His tree-trunk thighs rubbed off and rolled over each other as he muscle-strutted his way down to the car he had waiting. “Good evening, Sir,” said the concierge down in the lobby. “You’d better believe it’s a good evening, employee of mine. Look at the fucking size of me. Look at these biceps,” grunted Brett, blowing out a double biceps pose that caused his arms to triple in size and almost blow the fucking sleeves out of the shirt. But the fabric held. Still the size and definition was alarming — faint-inducingly off the charts — but if the concierge was affected by this, then he jizzed silently whilst maintaining a professionally passive demeanor befitting his position. Brett smelt his come in a thrice. “Heh, you can send me the dry-cleaning bill for your pants, little guy. I’d suck you off now so as not to waste that salty protein, but I’m already late. Ta-taa!” And Brett Hillard left the building. It was a warm, dry, and very pleasant evening. He was too big to fit in the limo, so he gave his driver the night off, but not before gulping down the helpless man’s come because he got a boner as soon as he saw how huge his gorgeous boss had become. Brett couldn’t shrink down below 750 lbs, at a height of 6’ 8. So he decided to jog and bound his way to The Pulled Plum. And what a sight he was as he thundered through the streets en route to Raj. People gave him a wide berth, some panicking to get out of his way in case he trampled them to death. Others had to undo their flies and get to their junk so that they would wank themselves into a coma, because Brett was so gorgeous, he was almost madness-inducing to stare at. As he bounded through the streets, he stopped at a flower-stand to grab a dozen red roses. He gave the astonished vender a 500 dollar bill, and would have fucked him up the ass had he had the time. Didn’t matter if he did it in public; he didn't care. If he got arrested, well, he’d fuck the police department to the Great Precinct in the Sky if necessary. “I’m such a bad ass sexy fucker,” he mouthed to himself as he turned a corner, leaping over traffic because he couldn't be bothered waiting for the lights to turn green. So what if there were a few new cracks in the street, fire hydrants spewing geysers into the air, and parking meters knocked over; he was good for it. The city could fucking bill him. He got to the restaurant. He was really late. He decided to will himself to become even more gorgeous than ever, in the hope it would be enough to make Raj forgive him. He had to turn sideways to get through the doors, and when the Maitre d’ greeted him in the foyer, Brett was already metamorphosing; hulking out pound after pound of rippling, manly muscles, and altering his face to grow more beautiful yet. His eyes shone like blue oceans interwoven by myriad hues of the coral it nurtured; his dimples deepened and lined his face with boner-inducing features, whilst his jawline became more angular and deliciously masculine. His Adam’s apple became even more prominent, and as his neck thickened with more muscle and sinew, his bow-tie threatened to shoot off and probably blind someone, but again, thanks to Fortunato’s craftsmanship, the clothes held even though he was growing more and more muscular with each second that passed. “Er… good… evening, Sir,” the Maitre d’ managed to get out, having to lean back because Brett couldn’t help but stick his chest out as far as it would go. He bounced his pecs vigorously inside his shirt, causing buttons to strain. The Maitre’d only came up to his nipples. Just for fun Brett willed them huge and prominent under the shirt, just to maximise the restaurant manager’s raging hard-on. Those Maitre d’ types were always ‘mad for it’. “Yeah, yeah, just take me to my table, little man. I’ve kept my fellah late, so there’d better be complimentary treats aplenty.” Brett made a full lat spread and his upper body exploded into massively muscular relief. He swelled up before the Maitre d’ almost as fast as the Maitre d’s’ penis did. No dick could ever be flaccid when Brett Hillard was around. “Of course, Sir. This way, Sir,” the horny little restaurant manager fawned. It so happened that the in-house musical entertainment was a string quartet, so their musical output was soothing and placatory. That should serve Brett well. He arrived at Raj’s table. “You look beautiful,” said Brett as the Maitre d’ personally seated the muscle god. Raj was frowning, having made a half-decent sculpture of Ganesh out of breadsticks. He’d also had two glasses of wine too many. But he was nicely turned out, also wearing a button down shirt, only his was teal-coloured and his pants and tie were white. “I couldn’t fit into the car, sweetie. So I had to jog here,” said Brett apologetically. He offered the roses to Raj. Raj had never received flowers before. It was a nice gesture. His face flushed with warmth as he blushed. There was half a bottle of expensive wine on the table. Brett was thirsty and swigged it to the last drop straight from the bottle. Raj was surprisingly mellowed out from the wine. “It’s okay, Brett,” he said, his speech a little slurred. He went on: “There are two bodybuilders over at that table. They’re pretty big and clearly in love. They’ve been flirting and posing to each other for the past hour. Quite entertaining to watch. Plus I organised some of my work notes in my phone for Dr. Weiss. I’m not angry with you. You’re just so beautiful looking. I’ll bet you made yourself look even better so I wouldn’t get angry with you.” “And it worked, right?” Brett quickly perked up, no longer needing to be at yellow alert. He cursorily glanced over at the cute bodybuilding couple that had kept Raj from falling asleep. They were both from the gym he’d showed off at earlier, but he couldn’t remember fucking them, although, they looked different, now, since Brett’s spunk and tit-milk combo had worn off. That had been a crazy day, and he’d fucked everything with a pulse at the gym, so he recalled. Still, now that he was here at the restaurant, every other diner suddenly forgot about their food and the company with whom they’d been consuming it. All attentions were focussed solely on Brett Hillard. Which is how it should be. Brett found the chair he’d been shown to surprisingly capable of supporting his weight. “I told the Maitre d’ that you have become the heaviest bodybuilder alive, so fortunately this restaurant is next to a waxworks,” Raj explained. “Huh?” Brett wasn’t sure what a waxworks had to do with the chair. Raj enjoyed how the boyishly cute look of befuddlement on the god’s face lent him a somewhat charming and adorable gleam. “The waxworks contains amongst others, an exhibit of the fattest man that ever lived, sitting on the actual chair the fat man used at the carnival to which he belonged. He was over 1000 lbs at his heaviest. The carnival donated it to the museum when the man died,” Raj elaborated. “So your fashionably and insanely bodybuilt hunk of a boyfriend is sitting on a fat man’s throne in a fancy restaurant on our first fucking date?” Brett tested the resilience of the chair by leaning back a little, locking his fingers together behind his head. His blood-engorged biceps made his head look like a softball, and some threads snapped in the shirt sleeves. “That’s the sum of it,” said Raj. The wine had made him a little audacious, and so in an entirely uncharacteristic fashion, he snapped his fingers at a passing waiter and asked for another bottle of splendid wine to be brought to the table, whilst Brett laughed himself silly at the thought of sitting on a long dead fat man’s blubber throne. “Well, at least if I get fat, I’ll know where to get my furniture,” he laughed. So Raj wasn’t mad at him. What a boon. Soon the lanky waiter arrived with a couple of menus. Brett was starving. He was going to order everything. But he never needed to worry about gaining fat. All he could gain was muscle. Fucking tons of it. To be continued. Part 6: HERE
  6. Jonny Cockfill: https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5a216ab9bf16 Random Bodybuilder: https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5a0437b189509 Canadian: https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph59cdc2ca8c526 Adam Champ: https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph59e57a1357d3a Big Dick Daddy: https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=1970804784 Beefy: https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph56bfc5d771c13 Guy in Leather: https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=2007520198 Bogdan Koshman: https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph58f51b311b467 Simon Grenier: https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=436285072 Master Nick: https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=328317518
  7. We will see how this goes! Robin Strand - https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5ba52c3048789 Robin Strand - https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5ba4a5f5184c6 Bearded Muscle - https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5b9cb0400539e Brock Jacobs - https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5bcb26ff5f396 Muscle Dad - https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5adead32c6b4c Xavier Muscle - https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5b0a00e2ea3ef Sean Lawless - https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5910f378c304d Buck Andrews - https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph58c23d3240c00 Buck Andrews - https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph58cc255727686 Buck Andrews - https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph58cc2938136c7
  8. Like a boa constrictor Rob was squeezing the life out of Ben’s body restlessly. Ben was his prey, his game, his toy. The pressure produced by his quads was close to finest and deadliest animal in the world. Ben’s core was losing volume each minute passed. In agony and pain, he was screaming and crying like a child. There was no chance that he could have been heard and helped in the middle of a wood. Rob was staring at him with satisfaction, proud of what his body was able to accomplish to a bodybuilder, pain, torture, agony and demolition. Ben’s body was demolished like never before. Screaming in the gym while working out for the pain over his muscle was nothing compared to what he was experiencing in those minutes. The agony was going in crescendo like an orchestra during a concert and certainly he would have passed out soon if not away. Rob knew his strength and the strength of his legs. As a boa constrictor could squeeze his prey with a pressure of 12 pounds per inch, the German Cyclist was able to reach 35 pounds per inch but that was not known by the rest of the world. As previously mentioned, Rob destroyed and pulverised several people in his life but never and ever used all his full strength but probably that was the right day and the right moment to fully expel all his inhuman and manly strength. “It fucking hurts, doen’t it?” Rob asked Ben was not able to reply but only screaming for the pain with his mouth full opened. Rob’s face was permeated with a mix of pleasure and cruelty. “Let me show you my real strength” Rob said while he squeezed harder. Ben stopped screaming as his vertebrae cracked and at the same time moved away from their original position. No air was left in his lungs and a floor of tears wetted his face. His spine was broken and wrecked. Violently Rob opened his spread his legs realising the hold. Ben felt more pain as his ribs tried to come back to the original set up and his core recovered his original volume. Blood spitted out from his mouth and his body collapsed over Rob’s chest that promptly kicked away like a bag of trash. “Get the fuck away from me!” Rob stated. Ben rolled over the soil, powerless and painful. He was there laying, semi consciousness, his body was in agony. Rob stood up and went towering Ben looking at him from the top. “I want to have fun with your puny body!” Rob said. Ben did not reply. The Canadian was taken by the throat and lifted up. Two punches hit his face with extreme violence. Rob wrapped his right arm over Ben’s neck from behind, forcing his body to bend inward and lifted over the air in a horizontal position in a perfect pre-suplex. Weighting 212 lbs Rob was carrying with extreme ease a 300 lbs bodybuilder over the air as a feather. Both faces were beside each other in opposite direction. “You couldn’t imagine, I could carry you so easily, pretty boy, couldn’t you?” Rob asked Ben, already knowing the response. “Please, don’t, I beg you, let me go, you tortured me enough!” Ben begged. Rob started walking around the wood with Ben over the air, until he saw a bit semi rectangular stone. Rob approached the stone and completed his suplex with Ben’s back dramatically hitting the rock and bending over it. His body shivered for the impact and Rob screamed of joy completing that movement. Rob quickly stood up going straight to Ben that was grabbed by the head and placed over Rob’s quad with his face facing the German’s crotch. Ben applied pressure and began his head scissor. Ben’s face was in shock as Rob kept squeezing, his jaw dislocated and at the same time broke, Ben yelled. Rob closed his right hand in a fist and punched several times his forehead like in a MMA fight. The cyclist went on for several second, increasing the pressure more and more, until he stopped, releasing the hold. “I spare your life this time, next time you will meet me, change your route or I will seriously wreck you body!”. Rob stated. Rob disappeared from the wood leaving Ben laying on the rock like an abandoned can of beer. He woke up at the hospital three days later surrounded by four of his bodybuilder friend.
  9. Oh Paco, oh Paco, oh Paco, it sounded like a song or perhaps like a joke but it was the way the guys used to sing every time Paco “El Toro” Bautista used to step into the gym ready to train to death as he used to call his pro bodybuilding training. A Spanish bodybuilder, one of the few who went so far in the pro bodybuilder, a life worshipping the iron to build and develop a body that only in few could have around the world. Forget the King of Shred, Andres Munzer that was out of his league, Paco was from another planet. He was huge, massive, and dense, built like a tank. That body seemed to be carved in rock and stones, every muscular group looked like it was made from concrete bricks, every fibre was visible as his skin was made of the thinner fabric with the lowest fat percentage if not the total absence. El Toro was walking towards the weights, listening to that music of his worshippers’, drawing a proud smile on his face. He was walking with all his cockiness, nothing could pass through those huge and sculpted legs, and they were so big, massive and defined that could produce sparks when they touched each other. No t-shirt was big to stretch enough to keep that mole. The sleeves seemed to ask for forgiveness as they were rolled up, those biceps were huge, striated and full of vein, the pectorals ready to tear the t-shirt apart and the shorts tight enough to adhere very tightly to his big quads. The floor lightly shook. At first you had to pay attention. It was like someone was dropping heavy weights after a dead lift. A shadow passed over Oscar as he finished the last reps on his bench press. The man was wide and thick, more massive than any lifter here. Oscar was tired of this worship of this human steer... He walked up behind Paco and tapped his massive shoulder. Oscar noticed his hand looked small next to Paco's shoulder. The handsome Spanish turned brown eyes like shining dark pools fixed on his. Oscar spat in his face! Without warning he took advantage of the moment of blindness Paco had and grabbed his head hooking his arm over the back. He dropped his ass to the gym floor pulling Paco down with him. Paco’s head slammed into the cement floor sounding like a breaking coconut! Oscar hadn't prepared to be buried under Paco's massive body. The thickness of his chest and lats smothered over him. With all his power he kicked Paco's unconscious body off him and stood finally. He kicked the Spanish in the face. Everybody stopped, looked at the two bodybuilders, no one intervened, they kept watching, the worshippers were smiling as they knew Oscar won’t last longer in this life. Oscar kneeled and set over Paco’s massive chest, he punched his face several times, with rage and anger pictured on his face, it was pure violence, Paco could not have the time to cover his face, the attacks was fast and mean for a guy half of Paco’s size. El Toro’s face bounced in every direction of the punches, until Paco blocked the attack locking his hands over Oscar’s wrist. “My turn Oscar” Paco said with an irritate tone of voice. Paco bounced Oscar from his chest, releasing a grip but holding the other wrist and as the Hulk did to Loki, he started throwing Oscar’s body all over the floor and the benches like a ragdoll. The impacts were insane and deadly. Oscar body was hitting everywhere. Paco stopped for a second grabbing back the other wrist and with inhuman power he threw Oscar’s body over the concrete pile just before the entrance of the locker room. Marino screamed, Paco released the hold and his body fell off onto the floor. Paco was furious and angry, rage was loading every moment, Oscar was lying on the floor trying to revive him. “I am sorry Paco, forgive me” Oscar said when Paco approached him. The Spanish didn’t say a word and grabbed Oscar by his silver hair and dragged him into the huge locker room, like in those paint when the Neanderthal does the same to the poor wife. Oscar was slammed onto the locker that produced a loud and metallic sound. “You challenged me and I will take your life” stated Paco. “Please Paco, forgive me, please” Oscar cried. “I will fucking squeeze your stupid and pathetic life out of you, you will be bleeding to Death” Paco replied. Oscar tried to stand up and run away but Paco stomped his back, putting him down on the floor, applying pressure with the right foot. “Stay there Oscar” Paco said and Oscar moaned in pain while Paco was moving his foot over Oscar’s vertebrae as he was putting off a cigarette. The friction was so high that the bones started cracking under Paco’s pressure. Another stomp delivered by Paco and Oscar’s back bent; a loud scream went out from his mouth. Paco kneeled sliding his left leg under Oscar’s abdomen and the other leg over his spine. It felt like the entire Berlin Wall was falling on his back when Paco placed his legs over Oscar’s spine. Paco was not squeezing yet but the pain was already there. Paco’s quads were as hard as rock, dense and powerful. Still in pain for the savage attack Oscar was trying to push the big quads away before it was too late and indeed it was too late, Paco locked his ankles and squeezed. Pain appeared in Oscar’s face that was watching the floor and with a violent movement went up, he tried to scream but no sound got out. His mouth was already bleeding and Paco was only at the 5% of his power, reaching the full power would have meant the death of Oscar’s. “You are already bleeding, what a pussy!” Paco said with an evil smile. Oscar tried to speak but the words were unpredictable, too much pain, already. Paco increased the pressure more; his quads were full of vein and steel hard, his ankle perfectly locked as they were glued together while Oscar’s core was losing volume, becoming thinner and thinner. Due to the savage strength of the Spanish beast, Oscar’s body began bending upwards like a twig under a foot pressure. “It looks like your body is bending” Paco said. “Mmmhhh, please, let me go!” Oscar moaned in pain. “I am not going to break you now, I want to play with your body, take it to the extreme of its resistance and then I will fucking destroy, you know I can kill you” Paco stated with an evil tone of voice. The pressure grew, the vertebrae kept cracking and Paco released the hold. Oscar’s body got back to the original position with a cracking noise, like a part of engine without any lubricant. Paco stood up, bent over his victim, pulled by his air and lifted up. Suddenly Oscar found himself up in the air in a gorilla press, Paco’s right arm was holding his crotch and the left his chest, and he walked over and over the locker room, proud but at the same time crazy as the devil. The door of the locker room opened and two worshippers entered “the arena”. Paco was standing tall and massive, pressing his prey over the air like a gorilla. “Wow, I want to see this” the blonde guy said. “So do I, my friend, there will be blood” the other guy replied. “There will be many broken bones and Oscar dead” Paco replied. The blonde guy felt his cock becoming hard after Paco’s response. Both of the guys set down on a bench and watched the show like in a theatre, they probably needed some popcorn to enjoy the show. “Ready to land Oscar” Paco asked with a laugh. “Please don’t do it, I beg you” Paco slammed Oscar followed by his heavy body pressing him over the floor, like Bill Goldberg was used to do to his victims. A sound of two heavy body echoed inside the room, dust was spread over the air and the floor lightly cracked under the weight. Oscar screamed and split some blood, Paco laughed. “I guess, you have always desired my body over yours, haven’t you Oscar?” Oscar could not speak a work, Paco’s heavy weight did not allow him to properly breathe. Paco stood up and grabbed Oscar by the testicles that squirted for the iron grip, he was violently brought up. Paco performed an over the knee backbreaker, followed by another and another and yet another. Each time Oscar’s back hit Paco’s knee with a violent slam a scream of pain and blood got out from his mouth, his body bouncing semi lifeless like a weak twig over the giant’s knee. With the last backbreaker Paco screamed: “Get the fuck off my knee, you fucking useless bodybuilder”. Paco threw Oscar over the floor like a bag of potatoes that rolled for some feet like a heavy whiskey barrel. The worshipper were sitting on the bench watching to such power destroying that silver bodybuilder that acted so cocky and that was now paying the fees, entirely. They were excited; their bulges were growing as Paco kept destroying Oscar. Paco easily placed Oscar in a torture rack and began bending the silver daddy’s body. His body was bending easily under Paco’s strength as it was empty of its spinal backbone. Lex Luger was nothing compared to Paco applying that hold. Paco applied a long bending session and at the same time squeezed his right leg that became hard as rock and with all the muscles visible as built with pure har cement with an amount of veins that was incommensurable. Oscar yelled the longest and most painful scream in his entire life. “Now, if you still want to keep on worship me and you do not want to finish like this piece of shit over here, I want to play a game with you guy” Paco said to the two guys. The guys stood up, excited and ready. “What do you want us to do Sir Bautista” they both asked Paco. “I want one of you to grab this prick’s wrists, the other the ankles and to pull his body as hard as you can” Paco said. The two guys ran over Paco, they grabbed the designated part of the body and started pull down the victim while Paco was still torturing Oscar. Oscar’s body bent more almost reaching 180 degrees, he was screaming, spitting blood and saliva and his vertebrae cracked loudly. He lost consciousness.
  10. Hafþór Júlíus "Thor" Björnsson one of the biggest and heaviest and strongest man in the world with 6’7’’ height and 400 lbs of weight, was standing on the podium holding his trophy with proud over the air. Standing next to the announcer and the tournament director he looked monstrous. He was a true giant walking the Earth. The crowd cheered as he was declared The Strongest man alive on Earth. Thor gained his fame as The Mountain from television. With those stats, no one would doubt he was just that, a mountain of male power. No one could stand a chance against him. He was too huge, too big and too strong even for a strongman but, never underestimates you opponent, great surprises might occur when you are not expecting them. “As part of this amazing day where we celebrate the best achievements of men and human power, I want to announce our two guests that have joined us today. Please give it up for Andy Polhill from Scotland and Chris Fitzpatrick from South Africa, our Professional Lifetime Strength Achievement winners and guests here today." Thor rolled his eyes as he heard the announcement and he thought. He pulled aside the tournament director and hissed at him, "Bodybuilders don’t fit in this competition. I didn't work this hard to just pose. My body does work. These children are fucking pricks!" the director stammered at the Mountain unsure what to do now that everyone was standing there. The guys stepped to the green and vast yard, wearing only their posing trunks, Andy in Metallic Grey and Chris in Shiny Blue. They started their routines, smug, cocky and with attitude. They flexed their muscles to the maximum showing what dedication can do and build. The crowd went mad watching those two little guys that compared to the strongmen present that day; they were like two little dwarves. The guys flirted with the audience and the strongmen; Thor was irritated by such arrogance and by the fact that they were literally stealing his stage. I will make them regret this insult, he thought. They do not belong here, he thought. The show went on for several minutes. Andy brought something from his country in the show, the Caber Toss, classic from the Scottish Highland Games. The host was talking during the entire bodybuilders’ show. As Andy was about to toss the log a shrill feedback squealed from the sound system turning heads away from the muscle men. Annoyed by their misplaced show, Thor took the microphone from the host’s hand and spoke, "Thanks guys, you showed yourself to the audience enough, go back to your cages.” The crowd went silent and Chris asked, “Cages? You think we're animals?" Thor smiled He loves it when the morons hand him straight lines. He said, “Well I think you are more like pets. Some animals are useful. I would never compare you to them. You are like dogs during the kennel beauty competition, dancing for the hope of snacks and your master's approval. You are nothing more,” said Thor as he dropped the microphone. Chris trembled in anger. Andy closed his eyes and a smile appeared in his face while a thought crossed his mind. This is going to be fun, Chris will kill him! Andy watched Chris fuming in anger. They both worked insanely hard to prepare for this appearance. He looked at Chris, "I got this..." he said. It seemed a demonstration is in order. He took the caber he was about to throw and levered it over his shoulders. He paused to set in a hard grip on either side of his shoulders and pulled down on the log. The air filled with crackling sounds. Splinters flew off the log and then suddenly, "CRAKK!" it sundered over Andy's shoulders! The crowd moaned a synchronized “WOW” and burst into crazy applause. “You will end up like this log, Thor, if you don’t apologize,” Andy said. Thor laughed hard not accustomed to ever apologizing to anyone for anything. “That was a simple trick.” Thor said with pride. He jumped off the podium and walked to a caber and grabbed it. He levered it over his shoulders and set into the same position. He pulled and with less noise and wait, it shattered over his shoulders! The crowd screamed in applause. Thor slowly walked toward the two muscle posers, finally taking in a look at them. Unlike strongmen, they were built from pure muscle, carved down to the least body fat, the essential muscle and power. They had huge arms and wide lats, massive legs, and handsome faces. Big men yes, but almost alien to what a strongman looks like. “I will crush you both, tiny men. I am the king of strength, I am the strongest man in the world and you are only two pretty little bodybuilders. Those posers are probably empty, aren’t they?” Thor taunted. He stood before Chris and grabbed his poser. Andy turned his head, laughing in disbelief at what he just did and watched his friend. Chris grabbed Thor’s testicles in a grip of iron! “I got you by the balls, don’t I?” Chris asked while grabbed the big man’s testicles. Chris let him go. He dropped to his knees gasping in pain, his eyes blinking in shocked surprise. The crowd didn't know what to do with this. Most of them very polite simple people, unaccustomed to seeing their champion behaving like this. He turned and there was Andy. Not wasting a second, Andy grabbed Thor's balls again! The massive man from Iceland was screaming like a child, his huge hand swallowed Andy's wrist as he was pulling, trying to get free from that powerful grip. The mountain pulled and just made the pain worse. The Mountain kept screaming as Chris walked him around, laughing at his cries of pain “I think you need to be convinced of our power big man," Chris said. "That's ok, I'm happy to do this for you. I think we're done squeezing your balls. Maybe we should squeeze something else?". Chris walked in with an arrogant strut. He was dense and compact, massive with stone like muscled power. His quads would have made even the muscle master Branch Warren might feel like he was an amateur - they were massive and veins wove a spidery pattern through them. He approached Andy and watched with delightful pleasure the huge strongman squirming in pain. “Doesn’t he sound like a fucking child screaming like that?” Chris asked Andy with his strong South African accent. “Fuck yeah, actual children are stronger than this pile of shit” replied Andy. “Look at his face, look at the pain in his eyes; you don’t look like a mountain now, do you?” Chris said, looking at Bjornsson’s face. His mouth was wide open, screaming loudly. Chris slapped the giant's face repeatedly rocking his head with hard brutal strikes as Andy relentlessly crushed his testicles “I can make them pop. Would u like that yu big ape?!” Andy said and doubled the crushing pressure of his grip forcing the Mountain to his toes. Bjornsson screamed, desperately saying anything to make the pain stop, “Please, forgive me, please!” He was a huge man, standing much taller than both of his tormentors. The muscle in his chest shook and trembled as he fought to endure the pain in his balls. The Icelandic strongman ground his teeth in humiliation and frustration at being manhandled and taunted by two men half his size. His mind turned from plans of revenge to hopes for personal mercy. Chris was not feeling merciful ,“Watch this Thor” Chris said. Chris flexed his huge quads, revealing massive quads with inhuman definition! They were thirty-two inches around and looked like woven bands of steel under his furry skin. "Imagine these wrapped around your body, killing you, crushing you to death." Chris pointed out Thor thought that threat was bullshit, but he just screamed and struggled weakly, unable to mouth off from the pain in his manhood. He was grabbing at Andy's wrist trying to get free. Chris nodded and said, "Release him." Andy let go but quickly moved into action. Andy released his grip on Thor's manhood just before throwing an uppercut shot at amazing speed, driving into Thor's open gut. So distracted with the relief of being released, Thor made no move to defend his core from the punch. He paid for that mistake. Andy's fist drove deeply into Thor's abdominal wall like a spear into his stomach. It sunk into Thor's body up to his forearm, breaking through Thor's abdominal wall. Andy smiled as Thor froze, breathless, trembling and wide-eyed from the sudden pain thrust through him. “Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Chris screamed Andy looking and smiling at his friend The crowd reeled in horror at the sight. No one had ever seen a man punched so hard his guts ruptured, and no one expected Thor Björnsson to be that victim. Thor’s body was shaking, spitting blood from his lips. People screamed at the sight of blood drooling from his mouth. Some ran. The tournament director's face turned to an ashen color. He fumbled for the microphone. It hit the stage floor after Thor dropped it and somehow it rolled off the stage somewhere. He tried to talk over the panicking crowd. "Everyone, this is part of the show. Stay calm please!" inside he was hoping “please, please be part of the show”. If it wasn't he was worried his champion was seriously injured. His legs gave out and the only thing keeping him from falling was Andy's arm buried in his gut. Gore drooled slowly from Thor's mouth onto Andy's arm and chest. Andy violently pulled his fist from Thor’s gut and grabbed his throat pulling them face to face. Thor's blood ran down Andy's serious face slowly. With his other hand Andy punched the mountains face with a hammering rain of fists! "You stained me with your FILTHY blood! How DARE you!?" Thor fell to the floor in a wet splatter as Andy released him. Groaning and unable to speak, he rolled on the floor in agony. A massive blue and black bruise bloomed on his skin as he rocked and held himself. The internal bleeding from the damage Andy did was more and more visible. He coughed hard and a red splatter came to his lips running down his chest! Ignoring Thor's pains, Andy did revealed a beautiful sculpted massive body and a pair of shiny metallic grey posers hugging close the thickly muscled legs he worked all his life to build. He turned and flexed for Chris. His partner smiled and the audience squirmed with discomfort at being ignored as two huge men began a slow mating dance. His movements were beautiful feast for any bodybuilder fan. His body was ripped to the bone, a massive, dense and compact body. Without saying, he was a soul dedicated to the art of iron and at the same time a deadly machine of human power. He sneered at the Mountain with contempt. Thor was trying to stand up but his face and his stomach were throbbing in pain. The bruise spread over his lower torso revealing the extent of the damage one punch from Andy could cause. Chris rolled a 165 pound concrete Atlas stone over to his friend. “Show this pathetic shit Mountain a bit of your fucking strength,” Chris asked. Andy nodded and felt Chris' arm in a slow moment of appreciation where they ignored Thor. He smiled and said, "For you, not him!". Andy took the ball and slid his massive quads around the rock, standing hard and solid, focusing his will and power. He placed his hands over his hips, watching the Mountain with a smile making sure he saw this demonstration of power. Suddenly his face became serious as his chest expanded, his legs flared into rippling power. His legs turned red with the effort. Andy took a single deep breath and flexed deeper. A loud noise thundered through the caber yard like a mortar round landing as the ball exploded into crushed pieces between his quads. Chunks of concrete fell to the ground. The Mountain watched breathless as Andy destroyed the Atlas Stone. The Icelandic strongman was on all fours, shocked and helpless as his broken guts hurt horribly, watching the demonstration and was wondering how it was possible that a small bodybuilder could have such power. He knew he could never shatter an Atlas stone. “Dear God, Andy, your power is unbelievable” Chris said. “Fuck yeah, I am Scottish, we're fucking strong” Andy replied. “Indeed, you fucking are” Chris said, stroking Andy's chest in respectful admiration. His face turned to a sneer. Chris walked towards Thor and stopped in front of him, towering over him laying on the grass and said, "I would love to ride you like a horse," Thor looked up at him and said, "Fuck off," said holding his stomach. His hand felt over the dent that was still impressed into his core by Andy's fist. "You are going to be my stallion, little mountain,” Andy laughed out and loud as Chris jumped over Thor’s back grabbing his hair and screamed. “Dirty farm animal! Let’s go for a ride, hi-ha!” Chris moved like he was riding a mechanical practice riding bull where you try to stay riding as long as you can. The South African bodybuilders loved that moment, laughing and screaming for the fun. Chris looked around and the crowd was stunned into silence. At first they were panicking, but now they watched, as if this was some show of some other species of mankind that somehow they didn't know about, some kind of superior men that bred and loved and put each other through brutal trials. “Chris, use those legs to squeeze him. For me. Squeeze him to submission and show everyone here what you can do,” Andy asked. “Oh yes, I can squeeze him to DEATH! I was waiting for you to ask” Chris replied. The tournament director shook with fear. Are they really going to kill their champion? Chris quickly moved them to their sides hauling his huge victim over to the ground. The Mountain had a very thick middle compared to the other smaller men and Christ struggled to cross his ankles. "No don't!" The Mountain complained as Andy knelt next to them helping Chris cross his ankles. Groaning under the effort to pack Thor's waist into the vice, Chris finally locked them tight and dropped back flexing his legs hard! His quads swelled to a huge thickness and veins and striations of muscle stood through his skin. "AUGHGhghhh!" Thor cried out in pain reaching Chris' ankles trying to unhook them. Andy stepped in behind Thor pulling his arms back and Chris kept his legs tight around The Mountain. With one knee over his navel, one over his back, Andy's quads were crushing harder and harder destroying Thor’s waist. He was slowly being crushed as inches of his waist disappeared, legs closing through Thor. Chris was grinding his teeth in a demoniac face of pleasure and effort as Thor's waist crushed into a thinner and thinner space! One last groaning sick squeal came out of The Mountain, a barely human noise of tortured pain, and then he fell silent unable to make sound and barely able to breathe at all. Those huge and hard quads were a human meat grinder. With Andy holding Thor's arms back, his chest and core exposed wide, there was no way to unlock his ankles from that position. Thor was kicking the floor trying to tap out a submission. His mouth opened on a silent scream, desperately trying to breathe. Chris launched a burst of incredible pressure his grip higher on Thor's body clamping over his lower ribs. Thor's ribcage was being compressed harder as tears ran down his bearded face and blood trickled from the corners of his mouth. The Mountain was slowly crumbling inside and the internal damage was getting worse by the second. This was in a lethal vise! He knew he was going to be killed if he didn't get out soon. “The poor strongman is crying” Andy said, looking at his friend torturing the big guy. “Do you want to scream for your mummy big lad?” Chris asked Thor with a sarcastic tone of his voice. Chris growled summing the power to increase his crushing power further. "AWUGhghghhhhhgawwwd!!!" Thor screamed as his ribs started breaking. His legs visibly cut into Thor several more inches. The crush increased so much, even Andy winced seeing the horrible torture the big man was suddenly forced to accept. Thor screamed loudly as his ribs began splintering under the python- like pressure. “Fuck yes, this is music for my ears” Chris said as he heard Thor scream. Then a sharp *thump* sounded inside Thor as his eyes snapped wide. More ribs were cracked under the horrible crush of pressure from Chris' body scissors. Andy applauded when he heard that noise. “Isn’t my fucking friend a myth? Isn’t he the master of domination” Andy said walking over the yard. The tournament director walked up to the men, "Please don't kill him?" he said pleading for his champion. "Or what?" Andy said standing facing the director like a wall of force. "What will you do?" Thor yelled loudly and vomited a mixture of saliva and blood from his mouth that landed over the green grass; tears poured from his eyes and ran on his face, joining at the cheeks like a stream meets the lake. It was like a horror movie when the killer is torturing his prey. The director knew he wouldn't be able to do anything. “I can break you in half if I want” Chris said “I give up, please, I give up, let me go” Thor moaned. Chris let Thor loose and he fell to the ground coughing up blood. "You said my muscle is useless?!" Chris shouted at him. He still clenched his fists in fury. Thor rolled over the yard, in pain, bleeding and yet crying, he put his hand over the broken rib but only touching it was an immense pain. Andy high fived Chris, they hug each other in adoration. “My turn!” Andy said. Andy walked towards Thor that was lying on his back. Andy was towering over Thor. With his legs opened and with one had lifted Thor’s head and brought it up to lock in his huge quads, with the giant’s face facing Andy’s crotch. Thor could see how huge Andy's legs are from this vantage. It was like kneeling before a wall of heat and power. Andy spread his massive legs and with a quick movement locked them over Thor’s head like jaws swallowing his head and blocking out the sun. As Andy's leg closed hard smothering the strongman's face, Thor felt like a concrete wall was crushed his face. The pressure started Thor breathed heavily trying to work with the pain. He shut his eyes in pain. Andy’s hand was still holding the back of his head. He closed his right hand in a fist, and started punching Thor’s forehead. Thor’s body shook with spasms from the powerful smashing strikes, his legs kicking, his hands trying to pull open those massive and deadly quads. Andy suddenly concentrated his efforts in crushing with his deadly scissor. His quads flexed harder and harder, making fibers of powerful muscle stand visible under the hairy fur that covered his legs. Andy squeezed Thor’s face viciously as previously he did to his testicle. His jaw suddenly broke! A cracking noise sounded and two teeth popped jumped out of Thor’s mouth hitting the ground as the face of the powerful Mountain was slowly mangled. Cool and quiet, Andy said, “For a giant of your size, I was expecting that your bones to be less fragile." Chris got back into the action and grabbed Thor’s ankles lifting his body off the ground. He looked at Andy, then onto the face of the horrified tournament director and back to Andy saying, “I wonder if he grows a couple inches if I PULL!" He smiled wickedly and made the director object. "NO no no no! This is murder!" Andy listened to the director and looked at Chris, then back to the director. "No, Murder?' Andy laughed like this was a joke. "No, we play rough. That's all. We do this all the time," Andy said, blatantly lying to the director. "We do?" Chris asked with a smile. "You do?" the director said with relief in his voice. “Uhhh, yea we do. Wanna try Chris?” Andy said. Chris nodded and grabbed for Thor's legs. The Mountain was trying to kick out of Chris' grip by thrashing and moaning. His voice was muffled under the crushing pressure. Blood was running down Chris' inner quad over his calf, leaking from Thor's crushed jaw and numerous cuts into his tongue. "He should calm down and remember it's just us playing rough then," Chris said smirking. His face turned serious and he punched Thor in the groin four times articulating each word. “Calm! The! Fuck! Down!” Thor stopped moving and a moaned like a sick animal. Chris pulled Thor towards himself while he was still in Andy’s quads, Thor moaned, the only sound he could do in that moment. Chris was pulling hard, stretching his body, suspending him from Andy's crushing grip. Then let go. Thumpf! “There are so many bones to break” Chris said. He twisted Thor’s right ankle and with seeming ease, his foot twisted and hung at a tortured angle. He kept twisting until it looked mangled around 180 degrees. With a nod to each other, both tormentors simultaneously dropped the Mountain’s body onto the floor. The director quietly asked, "Are you sure you are playing?" They started walking in circle around Thor as he rolled in pure pain, completely ignoring the director. They circled the Mountain like predators. Many bones in his body were broken. He was crying, moaning and screaming hoping that the nightmare was over. “Well Thor, this is the fall of a Mountain” Andy said, looking at his victim on the floor. “You know, we are not finished yet. The best is coming,” Chris said. They both stopped walking around their victim, Chris stared at Andy so did Andy and both punched their pectorals in a Tanzanian way. “Oh yeah, the HUMAN WRINGER” they both announced at the same time. The Human Wringer is the most frightening and painful hold that two mortal beings can apply to another person. Lucky is the victim if dies before it's finished. Andy stood in front of Thor’s head while Chris to his feet. Both bent down and grabbed Thor. Andy held Thor’s under his arms gripping his armpits. Chris grabbed Thor’s ankles. Their victim struggled weakly in pain and moaning was begging for mercy with no strength left in order to get him free. The death dance started. While Andy was keeping Thor’s upped body locked, Chris started twisting the lower portions like he was wringing wet laundry. Chris’s power was incredible, turning and twisting the Mountain's thick legs, flexing his chest to huge pumped muscle. A more brittle victim would have had his legs broken or hips dislocated but the relentless twisting, but Thor was thick and massive. His body twisted easily and the sounds of his bones cracking and tendons snapping were being heard far away. The director looked on in horror and realized he was lied to. He ran for the building behind him. The crowd shrieked in horror. Thor was crying and screaming, his mount pouring blood and tears coming out from his mouth. They wanted to stop Andy and Chris but had no idea how to begin. It turned some in the audience shared the bodybuilder's attitude and shouted, "Kill him!" One other shouted, "Fuck him up!" Both of the guys did not watch their prey or the crowd but they kept starting at each other with an evil smile. Thor’s was slowly brought to a 90 degrees twist. Chris played with his body, Turning back and then twisting hard again slowly making more damage and progress. It went on for few minutes with that evil game. Andy knew that Chris was about to give the fatal twist and he was correct. With a sharp movement Chris cranked Thor’s body around 180 degrees. His backbone snapped in two parts, the muscles and tendons holding him together were torn, and his torso faced the ground. His face saw the sky but his feet and hips faced the turf. Thor cried out in agony, gouts of blood erupted and gurgled from his mouth. To everyone's surprise he was not dead. His tormentors walked towards each other, bending Thor's body, folding him in half with little effort. Thor was bent with his face forced into the back of his knees. Thor was not able to scream but only to moan with a faint voice. in spite of his power, his huge arms were lying lifeless at his sides. The crowd muttered as someone else came to the lawn. Andy and Chris looked up and nodded at the huge Viking approaching them. “He is all for you master” Chris said to the Viking walking towards the two guys. It was The Viking, Josh Maley, a 6’5’ and 330 lbs giant, a huge English bodybuilder , long beard, Mohawk cut hair, a powerful and commanding giant. He did not say a word. Andy and Chris slid Thor’s body over Josh’s huge arms and stepped away He wrapped his arms over the semi-lifeless Mountain’s body and started squeezing in a death bearhug. The Mountain’s legs, arm, spine and ribcage were squeezed and packed into that powerful grip. The huge body of Josh Maley erupted in massive muscle as he flexed and applied a deathsqueeze to the Mountain. He was unable to move, let alone struggle out of this Viking's hold. "They saved you for me," he hissed at The Mountain. "Your death is here and it is Josh Maley." With that, he squeezed around the Mountain. Thor's body bled in places few have ever witnessed. blood gushed from his mouth and ears. A gout of blood erupted from his ass staining his shorts a blackish red. Thor passed out and his body and went completely still. Few people in the crowd noticed the helicopter landing west of the announcer's platform. Thor was dropped lifeless and wrung into twisted mangled death. His body slammed onto the ground. Andy gave his discarded shirt to Josh to wipe the blood from his hands and body. Chris knelt before Josh in a sign of pure submission to the giant. "Get up my sins, we must leave before his people raise revolt. We will handle them in time." A man came from the audience to stand before Josh Maley. "Take me with you," he said. He had blond hair and a beautiful muscled build, although merely half the weight and power of Andy and Chris. "I am the director's son. Please take me. I will work and prove myself to you or die." Josh Maley turned and looked at him. "Are you not afraid to die?" "Why would that matter," the young man said. "We all die." The Viking looked down at him. He suddenly lunged in and wrapped his arms around the young man lifting him into his deadly bearhug and squeezed him tightly. "AUGHHHhh!" The young man wailed in pain, but set his face into one of endurance. His body looked as he was just swallowed by a monster of muscle. The Viking hissed into his ear, "Maybe I will kill you now." The kid opened his eyes facing his doom and said, "Maybe you will." the moment hung in time. The Viking squeezed an inch tighter. The kid hissed in pain, but never broke his stare into the Viking's eyes. Josh Maley dropped the kid and walked toward the helicopter. The kid moaned holding his body on the yard as Andy and Chris approached. "Come on," Andy said offering the kid a hand. "What just happened?" the kid asked. "You passed the first test," Chris said. "How do you know?" the kid asked. "You're not coughing up blood," Andy said. The kid nodded getting up and walking behind them as they walked to the helicopter. "What's your name?" he asked the kid. "Nils Bengtsen," he said. "God, that's a stupid name," Chris said. "You're now called Brazen." "What?" the newly named Brazen asked. "Why?" "Cause that took balls," Andy said. "Keep up or I'll kill you myself." They got into the helicopter as the director came out of the building with his phone screaming, "Nils! They took my son!" [end]
  11. Part I: The Rocks Rolls Off The Mountain “I got you by the balls, don’t I” Andy asked while grabbed the big man’s testicles. The massive man from Iceland was screaming like a child, his huge hand swallowed Andy's wrist as he was pulling, trying to get free from that powerful grip. Andy was a bodybuilder from Scotland with huge arms and a grip like Iron. The mountain pulled and just made the pain worse. The Mountain kept screaming as Chris walked him around, laughing at his cries of pain “It’s not the only one part of your body that my friend and I will squeeze”. Chris, a 265 lbs South African bodybuilder, a dense and compact body, carved to the bones with a pair of quads that would have made Branch Warren feel as an amateur, stopped beside Andy and watched with delightful pleasure the face of the huge strongman in pain “Doesn’t he fucking sound like a child screaming like that?” Chris asked Andy with his strong South African accent. “Fuck yeah, children are stronger than this pile of shit” replied Andy. “Look at his face, look at the pain in his eyes; you don’t look like a mountain now, do you?” Chris said, looking at Bjornsson’s face. His mouth was wide open, screaming loudly. Chris slapped the giant's face repeatedly rocking his head with hard brutal strikes as Andy relentlessly crushed his testicles “I can make them pop, one at the time!” Andy said and doubled the crushing pressure of his grip forcing the Mountain to his toes. “Please, forgive me, please!” Bjornsson screamed. The Icelandic strongman ground his teeth in humiliation and frustration at being manhandled and taunted by two men half his size. His mind turned with plans of revenge and hopes for mercy. Chris stripped down revealing his blue posing trunks under his gym shorts. “Watch this Thor” Chris said. Chris flexed his huge quads, revealing massive quads with inhuman definition! They were thirty-two inches around and looked like woven bands of steel under his furry skin. "Imagine these wrapped around your body, killing you, crushing you to death." Chris pointed out Thor was still in Andy’s grip, screaming. “Chris, look at this” Andy said watching his friend. Andy released his grip on Thor's manhood just before throwing an uppercut shot at amazing speed, driving into Thor's open gut. So distracted with the relief of being released, Thor made no move to defend his core. Andy's fist punched deeply into Thor's abdominal wall like a spear into his stomach. It sunk entirely into Thor's body up to his forearm. Andy smiled as Thor froze, breathless, trembling and wide eyed from the sudden pain running through him. The mountain felt wet all over his private and rivulet tearing down from his right legs, the mountain went wet, pissed him, he was humiliated by whom he called dwarf some minutes before. “Yeah, yeah, yeah!” screamed Andy looking and smirking at his friend Thor’s body was shaking, spit blood. Gore drooled slowly from Thor's mouth onto Andy's arm and chest. Andy violently pulled his fist from Thor’s gut and grabbed his throat pulling them face to face. Thor's blood ran down Andy's serious face slowly. With his other hand Andy punched the mountains face with a hammering rain of fists! "You stained me with your FILTHY blood! How DARE you!?" The violence was cruel and shocking. Thor fell to the floor in a wet splatter as Andy released him. Groaning and unable to speak, he rolled on the floor in agony. Andy stripped himself like his friend did staying only with a pair of shiny metallic grey posers. He flexed, every movement was a feast for every bodybuilder’s fan. His body was ripped to the bone, a massive, dense and compact body, a soul dedicated to the art of iron and at the same time a deadly machine. His proud and arrogance was drawn all over his face. Thor was trying to stand up but his face and his stomach were still sore. Chris rolled on 165 lbs concrete Atlas stone over this friend. “What about showing the shitty Mountain a bit of your fucking strength” Chris asked. “Fuck yes” Andy said with proud on his face. Andy took the ball and placed it over his massive quads that turned rock hard solid, his hands over the hips, his face smiling and smirking. Suddenly his face became serious and with a loud noise, the ball exploded between his quads. Pieces of concrete fell off on the ground. Andy destroyed the Atlas Stone. The Icelandic strongman was on all fours position, he was shocked watching at that scene and was wondering how it was possible that a small bodybuilder could have such power. “Dear God, Andy, your power is unbelievable” Chris said. “Fuck yeah, I am Scottish, we are fucking strong” Andy replied. “Indeed, you fucking are” Chris said. Chris walked towards Thor and stopped in front of him, towering he stated: “I would love to ride you like a horse, you are going to be my stallion” Andy laughed out and loud, Chris jumped over Thor’s back grabbing his hair and screamed: “Dirty horse, let’s go for a ride, hi-ha” Chris was moving like he was over one of those mechanic bulls where you have to stay until you fell off from him. The South African bodybuilders was loving that moment, laughing and screaming for the fun. “Chris, what about squeezing the Mountain?” Andy asked “Oh fucking yes, I was waiting for you to ask” Chris replied Chris squeezed Thor’s ribcage as Andy was helping the friend to lock his ankles, the pressure was increasing minute after minute. Those quads were becoming harder and harder wrapped over Thor’s ribcage. Chris was grinding his teeth in a demoniac face of pleasure. Those huge and hard quads were a human grinder; there was no way to unlock the ankles from that position. Thor was slapping the floor like he when in a wrestling match you scream out for submission. His mouth opened on a silent scream, seeking out oxygen. His ribcage was being compressed as he couldn’t breathe properly, tears coming down from his eyes; the Mountain was in total domination. “The strongman is crying” Andy said, looking at his friend torturing the big guy. “Do you want to scream for your mummy big lad?” Chris asked Thor with a sarcastic tone of his voice. Thor screamed loudly as his ribs began grinding under the python embracement. “Fuck yes, this is music for my ears” Chris said as he heard the ribs cracking under the pounds of pressure of his scissor. Andy applauded when he heard that noise. “Isn’t my fucking friend a myth? Isn’t he the master of domination” Andy said walking over the yard. The yard was a green open space where hours before the competition for the strongest man in the world was concluded, crowning Hafþór Júlíus "Thor" Björnsson the strongest man alive. Other strongmen were there witnessing the carnage the two bodybuilder were consuming, none of them willing to help the strongman. 5 Hours Earlier. Hafþór Júlíus "Thor" Björnsson won the competition as strongest man alive in the planet. He was standing on the podium holding his trophy with proud over the air. “After this amazing day of strong people, I want to announce our two guests today. Please welcome to the field, Andy Polhill and Chris Fitzpatrick” the host screamed out on the microphone, walking up and won on the edge of the green field, waving his right hand over the air. Thor rolled his eyes as he heard the announcement and he thought. Bodybuilders don’t fit in this competitions, it’s not about how big you are but how strong you are. The guys stepped to the green yard with cockiness, wearing only their posing trunks, Andy in Metallic Grey and Chris in Shiny Blue. They started their routines, aggressive and with attitude. They flexed their muscles to the maximum showing what dedication can do and build. The crowd went mad watching those two little guys that compared to the strongmen; they were like two little dwarves. The guys flirted with the audience and the strongmen; Thor was irritated by such arrogance they were stealing the moment to him. I will make them pay, he thought. They are no match to me, they need a lesson, he thought. The Mountain was 397 lbs and 6’9’’; no one could stand a chance against him. He was too huge, too big and too strong even for a strongman but, never underestimates you opponent, great surprises might occur when you are not expecting them. The show went on for several minutes. Andy brought the Caber Toss to his show, one of the specialities of the Scottish Highland Game. The host was talking during the entire bodybuilders’ show but while Andy was about to toss the log a shrills sound interrupted the event. Annoyed by that stupid show, Thor took the microphone from the host’s hand and spoke: “Thanks guys, you showed yourself to the audience enough, go back to your cages” The crowd went silent and Chris spoke raising his voice: “Cages, do you think we are animals” “Well yes, you are like dog during the beauty competition, not more” said Thor. Anger escalated in Chris’s body. Andy place the log on the green ground, in a vertical position, he then shifted it in horizontal over his shoulder and pulled the log down, after some seconds the log broke in two pieces. The crowd moaned a synchronized “WOW”. “You will end up like this log, Thor, if you don’t moderate your tone” Andy said. “Do you really think I am scared” Thor asked. “You must be” Chris replied. Thor stormed towards the two guys.
  12. Hey everyone! Chapter 13 is now available to view in full on my Patreon! Take a look at this short preview below. If you'd like to find out more on the series and enjoy the full exclusive chapters, hop on over to my Patreon page. Pretty soon I'll be launching a new reward tier on my page with even more content! I only need a few more supporters to reach start the new tier. Please consider support if you like the story and want to enjoy more! Thanks! Patreon.com/rekoobaz Enjoy! Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Halloween Special Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 The Intergalactic Adventures of Eero Chapter 13 - Taken patreon.com/rekoobaz The young bodybuilder stood in the gangway huffing and puffing, his muscles still tingling slightly with growth. Gage smirked at the bulging bodybuilder, "I'll take that fuck you were talking about now.” ————————————————————————————————- # ——————————————————————————————————— The flustered bodybuilder could barely react before Gage grabbed him and pushed his enormously muscled body into the galley, his back landing on the table. Gage sauntered in after him, stalking his prey. Eero looked up at the roided out man as he surveyed Eero's godly new muscle, the poor young bodybuilder could almost not see past his massive muscle-tits. "Fuck, man! Ya even more huge than yesterday, Docs nanites are a miracle, they've turned you into a muscled deity," gage marvelled, "and now I get to reap the benefits.” Gage grabbed onto Eero's legs and pushed more of his body onto the table, Eero too out of breath to object. Gage then climbed on top of the table and straddled Eero. Despite the fantastic fuck he'd just had with Gaeten, Eero himself had not cum. The sight of Gage's roided out muscle though had his tumescent meat quickly returning to full hardness. Gage begun grinding back and forth on top of Eero as he removed his clothes, pulling his stringer tank over his head before lifting off Eero slightly to remove his tattered denim cutoffs. Gage's average 6 incher slipped from the confines of the cutoffs, Gage deciding not to wear underwear today (a decision he came to a lot), the excited erection slapped against the underside of Gages roided gut. Gage then shifted his body back over Eero's pelvis, his hand fishing around behind him, freeing Eero's erection from its mesh and lycra confines. Eventually the throbbing member broke free, flicking up and brushing against Gage's taint, the sensation sending sharp stabs of pleasure across his body eliciting a howl of delight from his mouth. "Ahhh! Lemme have that cock," the roided bottom yelled. "Fuck, yesss," Eero breathed as Gage grabbed hold of the bodybuilders 8.5inches, aiming it at his hole. "Awwwghhh! Fuck Yeah!” Gage crashed down upon Eero’s pelvis, the full, thick erection penetrating his hole all the way. "Ahhh," Eero sighed with pleasure, the wet man-pussy felt amazing, massaging his meat as Gage began to buck back and forth. Just like Scipio, Gage was an insatiable bottom. But unlike Scipio, the rugged, roided Gage loved taking control and riding cock as much as possible like the good power-bottom he was. Gage's enthusiastic bucking had the table shaking violently, threatening to tear itself clean from the bolts holding it to the floor. But Gages enthusiasm really got Eero in the mood, and soon he was pounding Gages stretched hole with just as much energy as the mans bucking. The racket they were making meant they didn't hear Bale return. The amused doctor watched the pair going at it on the table, inevitably feeling a stirring in his loins as he enjoyed the view of Eero's member pistoning in and out of Gage's wet man-pussy. Bale didn't want to just be an observer though. During a brief pause in their energetic love making Bale was able to raise his voice over the racket. "Ahem," Bale mock cleared his throat, "people eat off of there you know.” Gage turned and Eero lifted his head over his pecs to see a very horny Doctor with a wicked look, massaging the bulge in his pants. "As a doctor I have to say its very unhygienic, tsk tsk!” "If thats the case then you better join in to make sure we're following safe hygiene practices," Gage suggested, winking. Bale approached the table, "I think that would be for the best,” Bale grabbed Eero's legs and pulled him back to the edge of the table so his legs were hanging. Gage leaned forward pressing his face into Eero's big muscle-tits, this meant his butt was now more exposed, allowing Bale to line himself up. "He's not seriously gonna-" Eero asked in disbelief "Don't worry, I can take it, more to the point I fuckin' love it!" Gage yelled. Eero then shivered with delight as he felt Bale seductively slide the tip of his erect 10 inches over Eero's taint to then rest against the underside of what little bit of Eero's cock wasn't buried deep in Gages fuck-chute. Bales erection tapped incessantly against the edge of Gages stretched hole and Eero's throbbing cock, requesting access to Gages man-pussy. Gage relaxed as best he could around Eero's cock, trying to slacken up a bit to allow Bale in. Bale could feel it, and when Gages hole twitched Bale began his assault. "AWWW FUCK YEAHH!" Gage bellowed. "Uhhhhh!" Eero moaned as he felt Bales meat squeeze in next to his own, heightening his pleasure, feeling the throbs from the doctors pulsing erection. The two got into a nice in out motion, stretching out Gages man-pussy more than ever before. Gage and Eero made out roughly while Bale massaged Gages thick muscular back, their steady thrusting and stroking made them look like a well oiled, sweaty machine. With two well sized cocks abusing his hole Gage was the first to cum, spraying his diminutive, roid affected load along Eero's cobbled abs. "Mmmmmmm! Frrrrk," He muffled into Eero's mouth while kissing. Bale and Eero though could go quite a bit longer, battering Gages prostate for another good ten minutes, in which time Gage had moved from making out with Eero to making out with his massive pecs, licking adoringly all over, suckling and biting at the fat nipples and burying his face in the deep cleavage. "Uhhh, m-make love to my massive pecs!" Eero ordered. He loved the attention received. Sadly Gage was so good he pushed Eero over the edge, the young bodybuilder exploding his load deep inside the stretched man-pussy. Bale could feel it, and reciprocated, painting Gages hole. Eero's and Bales cum miked together in Gages hole, filling the hungry bottom up to overflowing, the excess cum spurting out around their throbbing members, spilling onto the table below. It made quite a mess that Argento would have to clean up. The trio collapsed into a sweaty heap on top of the table, breathing heavily, but contentedly. "Fuckk" Gage breathed as he was sandwiched between the other two, "best double penetration yet!” Eero and Bale smiled in their post-coital haze at the affirmation.————————————————————————————————- # ——————————————————————————————————— © Rekoobaz Hope you enjoyed this little teaser of Chapter 13! To see the full chapter and more head over to my Patreon page! patreon.com/rekoobaz The Intergalactic Adventures of Eero will be an ongoing series on Patreon. Chapters 1 and 2 are free to view to give you a taste. (Links above) If you're interested you can find out more at patreon.com/rekoobaz By pledging just $1.00 per month you'll be able to enjoy this chapter and more in full at 4000+ words. Thanks, and again, feedback is appreciated! Don't forget to check out Eero on Tumblr. Enjoy all the sexy the inspires The Intergalactic Adventures of Eero!
  13. Hey everyone! Chapter 12 is now available to view in full on my Patreon! Take a look at this short preview below. If you'd like to find out more on the series and enjoy the full exclusive chapters, hop on over to my Patreon page. Pretty soon I'll be launching a new reward tier on my page with even more content! I only need a few more supporters to reach start the new tier. Please consider support if you like the story and want to enjoy more! Thanks! Patreon.com/rekoobaz Enjoy! Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Halloween Special Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 The Intergalactic Adventures of Eero Chapter 12 - The Shoot patreon.com/rekoobaz Eventually the trio made it to their destination. "Gaeten told me just to let ourselves in," Scipio announced as they arrived at what appeared to be a villa. "He only uses this place when he comes into the city, the guy is loaded!” Eero followed Scipio through the unassuming front courtyard, Scipio swiping his Slate against the front door to let them in. The inside was much more impressive. As the front door swung itself open, the amazing interior was revealed. The place was sleek and minimalist, sparsely furnished. The walls were adorned with black and white prints of what must have been Gaeten's work. Eero noted that they were all tightly cropped images of the male form, a muscular male form. Eero felt a tightness in his shorts as he gazed upon the erotic imagery. All of the rooms looked south out over a balcony that wrapped around the villa and gave panoramic views of the city as it stepped down the hillsides towards the shores of Lake Et Nitido. Eero could see now why they were shooting there, although he was worried that the views of the city might distract from the views of his muscles. Close, but not a chance. "Your bag, Sir," Argento spoke as he handed Eero his bag, whose face was pressed up against the glass, looking at the view in wonderment. "Gaeten asked that you tan up for your photoshoot, stuff should be in your bag," Scipio explained. "Allow me to help you, Sir," Argento spoke quickly, and smiling, almost wickedly? "Bathroom should be through there," Scipio pointed. ————————————————————————————————- # ——————————————————————————————————— Eero stood in the middle of the rather luxurious bathroom, much more spacious than the tiny cubicle on the Musculus, and began to remove his clothes. Argento came up behind Eero, "Allow me, Sir," the metallic man insisted as he rested his hand on Eero's thick shoulder. "O-okay then," Eero replied, letting go of his sweatshirt. Argento grabbed hold of Eero's waist and pulled the young bodybuilder in close against his own chest, he loved holding Eero close. He reached over Eero's shoulders, tracing his fingers down Eero's front, not forgetting grasp Eero's pecs and pinch his nipples on the way down, eliciting a delighted moan from the big muscle-slut. Eero's head was nestled in between Argento's own massive biceps, acting comically almost like a neck pillow stopping Eero's head from lolling to the side in bliss as the robot assaulted his torso with pleasure. "Mmmm," Eero moaned, tilting his head to one side to delicately kiss Argento's right bicep. Sensors acting like the hair follicles on human skin relayed the sensation to Argento's positronic brain, filling his artificial body with pleasure. As a result, Eero could feel the unmistakable sensation of Argento's silicone phallus growing against his lower back. Argento grabbed at the hem of Eero's sweatshirt, dragging his fingers across Eero's abs as he pulled the garment up past Eero's massive pecs and then over his head. Once it was off Eero turned to face Argento and rewarded him with a deep open mouth kiss. "That feels very nice, Sir," Argento spoke as Eero pulled away, "you are making me feel pleasure.” "How about now?" Eero asked as he grasped the metallic mans full 14 inches with his hand, tugging enthusiastically at the silicone erection that had been bobbing eagerly in front of him. "Oh y-yes, S-Sir," Argento jerked, one of his eyelids twitching slightly, his artificial brain overloading with pleasure signals. "And what about no-wphff," Eero asked as he knelt down and swallowed the plump head of the metallic mans pulsing erection. Argento's software was being overloaded with pleasure signals, no one had ever pleasured him orally, usually he was the one doing it. "S-s-s-sir, p-p-please, my s-s-software cannot-," Argento's voice lagged. Eero quickly stopped sensing something was wrong. "Are you okay Argie?" Eero asked as he stood, steadying the pleasure stricken robot. "My apologies, Sir," Argento spoke, "My internal hardware needs to be upgraded, my software cannot keep up with all the pleasure signals.” Eero had to chuckle a little. "Sorry Argie, didn't mean to overwork you," Eero smiled sheepishly. "Do not apologise, Sir, It is I who should apologise. I am not able to fully cater to your desires," Argento lamented. "Perhaps we should continue getting undressed," Eero suggested. Argento agreed, and knelt down to remove Eero's mesh shorts, gently pulling them down over Eero's mighty quads and diamond calves. The big muscled robot was now left to survey the magnificence of Eero's tightly clad bulge. Argento cupped it gently in his hands like he was handling a precious artefact. He then crept his fingers upwards to the straps of his thong, pulling it down slowly until Eero's eager tumescent erection slipped free. Argento did encounter some resistance as he continued to pull the thong down, the strip of fabric along the back once again caught between Eero's glutes. And again, Eero received a pleasant spark of pleasure as the thong rubbed against his eager, wanting fuck-chute. Once Eero was fully undressed, Argento commenced slathering the young bodybuilder with the thick copper tanning lotion. Eero leant against the glass overlooking the city, steadying himself so Argento could apply it evenly over his body. Although Argento knew the tanning lotion might seep in through the gaps in his hands to the mechanics below, the metallic man took the risk so he could revel in the joy of running his hands over Eero’s muscles. "Even bigger than before, very impressive, Sir," Argento complimented Eero on his recent growth. Argento started by generously massaging the thick tanning agent generously into Eero's lower back, expertly giving Eero a deep tissue massage at the same time, loosening up every muscle ready to flex in front of the camera. The thick lotion mixed with Eero's light skin, turning it into glistening, rippling liquid gold. Every muscle on his thickly corded back popped under the light. "Ahhh, thats nice Argie, go lower!" Eero breathed. Argento slid his metallic hands downwards to Eero's epic bubblebutt, rubbing the lotion in hard circular motions which spread the cheeks apart with each motion, exposing the bodybuilders tight little fuckchute. The erotic sight had Argento's artificial salivary glands working overtime, the metallic man practically drooling over Eero's liquid gold buns. "We need to make sure we get everywhere, Sir," Argento announced. With that, Argento squeezed more of the tanning lotion onto his hands, before bending down and tracing his finger from Eero's tailbone down into the deep crevice of his bubble-butt. "Ohhhh, Argie!" Eero gasped. Eero knew he should've been focused on getting ready, but he wasn't going to deny his metallic friend the pleasure of worshipping his body, or deny himself. "Y-you know what to do . .," Eero breathed. Indeed he did. Argento drew his finger lower until it was rested on the prize, Eero's twitching fuck-chute. Argento gently applied force to Eero's hole, slowly penetrating it with his finger, eliciting a crescendo of moans from the bodybuilder. Argento drew his one finger in and out slowly, then added another, and another. "Awwwghhhh! Argie! Fuck Yes!" Eero bellowed, a racket not unheard by Scipio outside. With his free hand Argento reached between Eero's thick legs, grabbing hold of the muscle-sluts throbbing erection. Argento began stroking it in time with the thrusts of his fingers, overwhelming Eero with a heady mix of pleasure from both ends. Argento hadn't forgotten to coat his hand in tanning lotion before grabbing hold of Eero's erection. "As I said, Sir, everywhere," Argento stated. "F-f-fuuuckk!" was all Eero could utter, his face pressed against the window. It didn't take long for the inevitable to happen, Eero had been pent up all morning, his tight clothes rubbing and riding up against his hole, Argento’s pleasure overload and now his expert ministrations. "Unnghhhhharghhh!" Eero bellowed as his load burst forth from his tanning lotion lubed erection. Argento caught most of it in his hand, holding a tight fist over Eero's purple head, the rest splattered against the glass leaving a sticky mess. "Unh, Unh, Unh," Eero's shallow breaths echoed through the bathroom, "If-if thats your approach to applying tanning lotion Argie then you better be joining me at my next contest," Eero laughed a little, still short of breath. “It would be my pleasure, Sir, it may also help relieve you of any nerves before your contest," the metallic man smiled wickedly. "And look what I have here," he continued. Eero turned and saw his emissions running down Argento's tan covered fingers. The bodybuilder gently grabbed hold of Argento's mighty metal and silicone arm and guided the fingers towards his mouth. Eero licked his own generous load off Argento's finger, methodically running his tongue between each digit, not wanting to miss a drop. "Mmmmm," Eero moaned. Argento looked very aroused by Eero's lewd act. "It seems I may have been a little too liberal with the lotion, Sir, we may not have enough to cover the rest of your body, especially your pectorals," Argento explained. "Then you'll just have to rub off some of the excess from the rest of my body," Eero grinned. ————————————————————————————————- # ——————————————————————————————————— © Rekoobaz Hope you enjoyed this little teaser of Chapter 11! To see the full chapter and more head over to my Patreon page! patreon.com/rekoobaz The Intergalactic Adventures of Eero will be an ongoing series on Patreon. Chapters 1 and 2 are free to view to give you a taste. (Links above) If you're interested you can find out more at patreon.com/rekoobaz By pledging just $1.00 per month you'll be able to enjoy this chapter and more in full at 4000+ words. Thanks, and again, feedback is appreciated! Don't forget to check out Eero on Tumblr. Enjoy all the sexy the inspires The Intergalactic Adventures of Eero!
  14. So I got this new boyfriend... he's a bodybuilder that I met at the gym... I know, I know, it's f'ing crazy! This guy is crazy! Totally not my type. You know I go for clean-cut guys, boys with metro style and model-quality muscle. So this guy drinks Bud, listens to death metal and country, and drives a freakin HUGE pick 'em up truck that's dirty as shit. So much for my Mercedes driving pretty boys. And you know I always top... I banged the fuck out of those twunks! Well get this, uh... the first time we met at the gym he hit on me hard, I mean aggressive. Dude wanted to hook up BAD. So we go back to my place and he proceeds to tear me a new asshole with his thick ol' cock. I've never taken anything like that before. I'm usually the one plowin ass! This muscle freak dominated the fuck out of me and then completely unloaded a metric shit-ton of cum all over my face! I was still trying to process the whole experience days later. All I could think about was that ripped muscle monster man-handling me. My asshole was just starting to feel better when he hit me up on facebook, "Hey man, sorry about the other night. I'll take you out for some dinner to make up for it." I was totally confused. This guy was the polar opposite of my type. In fact, I hated tatted up redneck honky-tonk fucks. But I just couldn't resist. So, he picked me up in his dirty-ass pickup truck. I had to climb all the way up in like I was scaling Mt Everest or something, diesel fumes stinking, rumbling and loud as fuck. Anyway, he took me to a fairly nice restaurant and was actually very nice, even gentlemanly I might say, and not stupid either. Plus I got to stare at his freaky forearms all evening, inhumanly thick, crisscrossed with popped-up veins. This guy was definitely a bodybuilder. His shoulders were so broad it was like out of a comic book, and his traps pushed the collar of his shirt up to his ears. This country boy was starting to grow on me. I stared at his ass while walking back to his truck like I was an adolescent boy or something. His wranglers could barely contain his muscle butt, and bodybuilder thighs made the jeans look more like leggings. I did my best to burn in my memory the image of his massive bulge as he helped me up in the truck. This dude had a fucking hog, and some serious bull balls to match. He drives me back to my place. "Come in for another drink," I suggest, and he agrees. "You know I'm a bodybuilder right?" he asks inside. "Yea, looks like it," I answer. And before I know it he's peeling off his jeans to reveal his massive striated quads, crazy rock hard and ripped to shreds. Not only that, but he's not wearing any briefs, just a tiny, skimpy pair of competition briefs with spaghetti-thin straps and a MASSIVE bulging pouch that is STRETCHED to its limits. He reaches down and adjusts his package. Oh fuck! He's wearing a cock ring! After the adjustment, everything gets shoved back in the pouch resulting in a MONSTEROUS bulge that defies gravity and sticks way out, macho as fuck! "I need to practice my posing. Wanna help me out?" "Uh, ok," I managed to eek out. The shirt came off a fraction of a second later. His waist is tight, narrow, shredded. His chest, arms and back are huge, swole, jacked up, very unlike a normal 'fit' guy. This is different. This is bodybuilder different. I mean, I'm fit. I hit the gym hard and take some pride in my muscles being big and well defined, but when I get next to Dillon, I look like a ten year old boy. His pecs stick out past his stomach and create deep shadows, emphasizing their size. They ripple and pop with each little move. His arms are massive like a comic book hero's, only his are real, and right in front of me. God those triceps stick out... normal people do not have arms this thick! His delts sit like huge round cannon balls on top of his arms and his traps pop out for that extra freak factor. Fuck! He hasn't even started posing yet and I'm rock hard! By the end of my private muscle show, I was naked from the waist down with a raging hard on and Dillon's cock was fully erect laying flat up against his stomach, while his balls continued to occupy his posers, making a bulge that would still be the envy of most bodybuilders. So I walk over on my knees and start to suck... clearly he was waiting for this, because he started to face fuck me. That fucker had me licking his cock and sucking his tip for no more than 30 seconds before trying to shove that huge thing down my throat! I fell back choking and gagging. I've never trained my gag reflex or practiced deep throating, and now he thinks I'm going to swallow that monster?! Crack! He gives me a good firm slap across my cheek. Fuck! I used to be the one slapping little bitch twinks around in bed. Acting like a dominating muscle stud. I couldn't even begin to try and slap this guy around. And before I could even finish my thought, I felt his strong hand on the back of my neck guiding his monster cock back towards my mouth. Well, no time to train my gag reflex or practice with a dildo because Dillon just decided he was going to do it anyway! I couldn't believe something so thick and so fat could even fit in my mouth, let alone go down my throat... all the way down my throat. Holy fuck his giant bull balls were all the way up to my chin, my eyes felt like they were popping out. My neck felt like it would explode. His hand let go and his giant python slid back out of my throat, allowing me to gasp for breath, my face red and saliva dripping from Dillon's monster. I coughed, hacking, trying to catch my breath. He does it again. Oh my god it hurt! He goes in and out a bit and lets go again. I gasp for breath again as I stare at this muscle beast about to gag me again with his monster cock. His ripped sinewy abs are rippling and heaving as he breathes, huge thick heavy pecs tower over his tight narrow waist. Now I understand those tats. I hate tats, but these are war paint... heightening his intimidation, making him look scary. His cock comes back for a full-on face fuck. In and out, in and out, hard. I literally don't know if I'm going to survive this, and then right as full panic sets in, he pulls back out and blasts my face with cum. I've never seen cum like that... he just blasts me over and over and over, painting my face with thick cum. It's all over my lips and mouth, up my nose, dripping from my brow, in my hair, on my chest. Fuck! I've hardly caught my breath before he throws me on my hands and knees and I could feel the cool lube being squirted on my exposed asshole, then the intense pain of his long thick cock entering my ass. Fuck! What kind of monster is this guy? I though he was done, now he's gotta stick it in another hole. I'm looking over at myself in the hallway mirror, cum all over my face, cum dripping from my ear, a look of despair... He's got a fist full of my hair holding my head up and back as he rides me. I see his huge arm extended out, packed with muscle on top of muscle. His arm measurement has to be as big as my leg measurement, fuck, bigger... and he's shredded! His tricep is popped, sticking out like crazy with striations and veins. And his unflexed bicep is just sitting there on top of his arm like some massive mound of meat. And those forearms... intertwined with thick woven ropes of muscles. Popping out like some enormous giant muscle group. What a fucking muscle monster! Dude's in full on beast mode! I though he was going to go soft after blowing that load, but no, he's still rock hard and plowing me like a mother-fucker. He's got to be at least 12 inches... feels like 24. Thank god it wasn't long before he flips me on my back, pulls out and shoots AGAIN all over my chest and 'abs'. "Nice job city boy," says Dillon as I lay there about to cry. He's trying to sweet talk me with his country twang. "Wasn't so bad now, was it?" Fuck yea it was bad, I thought. I'm trying not to loose it. "Pose some more," I manage to get out laying on my back. He smiles. His cock is softening and hanging down, but still engorged and full. His muscles are swole, pumped up from all the exercise and excitement. I can't believe his body. I've never been with a bodybuilder before. He starts hitting poses, abs and thigh, double bicep, most muscular. Fuck, this guy looks bigger than the pros. I'm now rock hard and beating off furiously. "Hey Dillon, try those posers back on," I shouted out, gaining more confidence. He smiled and happly obliged. I love a good bulge, and a rediculously obscene bulge it was. He struggled to cram everything back into the pouch. "That's a good look for your next comp!" I said, his swollen package barely contained by the fabric. I feel like I'm in a fantasy. "Yea! Extra points for the complete package!" he agreed grabbing his bulge. I can't hold it anymore and I blow my load all over myself. Shot all the way up to my face! Coating myself with more cum on top of all of Dillon's. He's still flexing away like some sort of porn star/muscle monster/bodybuilding champ. What a fuck! I slip back on my briefs, and Dillon re-applies his skin tight wranglers before sauntering back out to his truck, shirtless, shoeless glistening with sweat in the street lights, and he drives off in the middle of the night. Facebook again, Dillon is keeping in touch. We're asking about each other. Talking about our growing relationship. He sends me a ticket to his upcoming bodybuilding show, and I'm ecstatic! I've never been to a competition before, although I wacked off to a few on TV. Competition day comes, damn this is a good seat. How the fuck am I going to conceal my hard on while watching a parade of muscle studs?! Anyway, Dillon show up on stage for comparison and my heart skips a beat... fuck he looks good, tan under the stage lights. OK, he's not bigger than Phil or Kai like it seemed before, but god damn is he huge and shredded! You know, after a good workout, I used to think that I looked like a competition ready bodybuilder... haha was I fucking wrong! And oh my god, the package between Dillon's legs is beastly! Everyone else on stage looks like they have a little colored triangle patch in front of their crotch, but not Dillon. He's got a fucking PACKAGE! What a stud. The other competitors are looking over, catching quick glances of what a real man's bulge looks like. Dillon's acting like nothing, just smiling big, oh shit, he just found me and winked. Is he getting hard? His swelling cock is starting to strain his posers, but he's able to keep it under control. There's no way that thing could contain Dillon's fully erect cock! They turn for a side pose and his bulge is obscene, sticking out, packed FULL to the limit. Everyone else's bulge disappears behing their thighs, but not Dillon's. Nowhere for that to hide. My non-expert eye can't quite tell if he's going to come out on top or not. The pre-judging is over and Dillon comes out to say hi... wearing nothing more than his skimpy competition posers... "I made the cut to be in the evening show," he said excitedly. Dam he looked hot! This is the first time I really ever saw him up close like this. He was musty smelling and sweating from all the posing. My eyes lingered at his massive protruding package, and scanned across his impossibly thick muscled quads. "Yea, that's awesome!" I said, despite the fact that my mind was way elsewhere. There's nothing more that I wanted to do than sling those briefs under his gigantic nuts and start sucking that cock! He clearly noticed me staring... "Hey, I'm doing a special posing routine just for you," Dillon said as he grabbed his package with a wide open grip and shook it a little, giving a coy grin. God, you could just see the weightiness of it. It's substantial size and mass made evident by the grab. "Noticed how turned on you were the other night by my package, so I'm highlighting it in my posing routine." And with that he winked and went back stage. Damn, it always seems as though I'm left staring at that rock hard muscle butt has he walks away! Any what the fuck does a special posing routine mean? The evening show begins, and several other bodybuilders go first. They are hot... it's like foreplay... they pose to music, acting cocky and strutting around. I have to admit, they're fucking jacked! Then Dillon comes on stage, and he looks HUGE. Instaboner for me! And it doesn't take long for me to see what's special about his routine. In the prejudging he was very calculated, doing all the mandatories and nothing extra. Now he was one fire! I swear to you he didn't stop touching his posers. Every pose he did he managed to tug and pull on those thin little poser straps, making his package bulge up, down, sideways. There was no overlooking the fact that he was HUNG AS FUCK. Dillon made it cocky and in your face. He tugged up hard on both straps for his lat spread. He hooked both his thumbs under the straps and tugged his posers down low, low, low to show his abs. Fuck, I thought I saw the top of his dick for a minute... One pose he grabbed just one of the straps and pulled it so far out I though it might snap! God his package was huge! There were even a few times where he just grabbed it, made some 'fuck yea' faces to the audience. I was cumming in my pants. He ended up winning the overall despite being marked down for "inappropriate posing gear". Best of all, he immediately hustled me back to his hotel room. Blew off all the interviews, gave up any extra money from post-contest photo shoots, said he'd pick up the trophy and check later. Back in the room, he immediately pulled off his sweats. Fuck! Dillon still had his posers on...
  15. (Apologies for the weird black lines on the formatting, it keeps happening despite me trying to fix it.) Hi There All! Chapter 11 has just been uploaded on my Patreon! Here's the preview for you to take a look at. If you'd like to find out more on the series and enjoy the full exclusive chapters, hop on over to my Patreon page. Pretty soon I'll be launching a new reward tier on my page with even more content! I only need 9 more supporters to reach my goal and I'll launch the new Tier. Please consider supporting if you like the story and want to enjoy more! Thanks! patreon.com/rekoobaz Enjoy! Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (Teaser) Chapter 4 (Teaser) Chapter 5 (Teaser) Chapter 6 (Teaser) Halloween Special (Full) Chapter 7 (Teaser) Chapter 8 (Teaser) Chapter 9 (Teaser) Chapter 10 (Teaser) The Intergalactic Adventures of Eero Chapter 11 (TEASER) - Bigger patreon.com/rekoobaz Bale prepared the syringe, a lot bigger and aggressive looking compared to the first time, but it was a bigger dose after all. "Just like before, just lay back on the exam table here and relax," Bale guided Eero to lie flat on the table. Eero complied and lay back, taking a deep breath and trying to keep his arousal at bay so the doctor could continue his work. Bale pointed the needle at Eero's shoulder. The dullest pain could be felt as the needle pierced the skin, Eero held his breath, a few seconds, and then, done. "And there we go," Bale spoke, discarding the syringe. "So how long do you expect for it to take effect this time?" Eero asked. "Always hard to say, but probably around an hour," Bale guessed. "Hmmm, what to do in the meantime I wonder," a coy look returning to Eero's face, this time intentional as he stared at Bale. "I'll finish up here, go wait in your cabin," Bale ordered. ———————————————————————————————— # ——————————————————————————————————— Soon after, Eero and Bale were washing themselves off together, squeezed into the Musculus' tiny shower cubicle, still waiting patiently for Eero's growth to begin. They didn't have much longer to wait. As the water cascaded over the their muscles, Eero began to feel a familiar numb tingling, like pins and needles, all over his body. The sensation spread quickly and Eero gasped. "Doc! It's starting! Unhhhh!” This time, only the dullest pain could be felt as the nanites went to work rebuilding Eero's muscles, starting around his shoulders where the metallic muscle builders had been injected. Eero's shoulders grew wider, his deltoids rounding out even more in a beautiful curve the weaved down into the tops of his biceps and triceps, they too thickening up quite quickly. Eero's arms had always been somewhat average compared to the rest of his body but now they were rock hard, pulsing canons of might! The growth continued to spread around Eero's torso, his traps enlarged, hugging his neck and the growth moved towards Eero's already monumental pecs, fortunately, their growth was minimal, bringing their size into better proportion with the rest of his body, but the cleavage was even more impressive Bale noticed as he watched the transformation slack-jawed. He wanted nothing more than to run his tongue up and down the deep crevice as he watched mesmerised as the water from the shower cascaded down the deep valley. Bale grabbed Eero's wet arms and held the growing bodybuilder tightly, savouring the beauty of his transformation, "Ohhh Doc, it feels sooo gooood this time!" Eero moaned. His cock growing erect again despite just having spilt his load all over Bale in his cabin. Eero did experience a slight stab of pain as he felt his fat nipples enlarge a little more, now finger like nubs hanging from two massive muscle-tits. His waist barely grew at all, creating a phenomenal taper downwards. His abs and obliques grew more plump, looking like they were trying to break free from his skin, but they were still held taut against the narrow waist. Eero's significant bubble butt became more boulder like, his twin globes pushing out further from his lower back seemingly defying gravity in the process, as Eero shuffled around in the tight shower cubicle the boulders jiggled ever so slightly, indicating they would still be good fun to play with, especially when Eero's tight little thong was separating those massive cheeks. Eero's calves split and became wider and fiercer looking, an extreme taper could be seen as the muscle thinned out toward the bodybuilders ankles, an aesthetic that was seen a lot across Eero's body, a contrast between thick and delicate. Eero began to think the nanites had done their work as any signs of pain began to disappear, but the nanites still had one more surprise for the bodybuilder. Hair began to sprout across Eero's jaw, creating a very sexy 5 o'clock shadow. Dirty blonder hair also sprouted across Eero's now even more substantial body, making Eero look very manly and virile. Shame, because of course body hair was a big no-no for a bodybuilder, especially one due for a photoshoot the next day. Bale stepped out of the cubicle to fully survey Eero's musculature. He was almost godly. Bale watched as Eero inspected his improved body as the water continued to cascade over him. Bale couldn't help but begin jacking himself off as he watched the show. "How much do I weigh now?" Eero spoke aloud as he stepped from the shower, not bothering to dry himself and stepped onto the scales next to the basin. Bale watched from over Eero's thick shoulder as the numbers slowly blinked higher and higher, 240, 245, 250, 255, 261! "Holy shit Doc! 261lbs! Thats over 15lbs of growth this time!" Eero yelled excitedly. "Oi! Whats the hold up in there?” Gage yelled as he banged on the door, waiting to use the shower. Bale and Eero looked at each other, grinning, and unlocked the door. The 'whoosh' of door opening was a good sound effect to describe Gages breath being taken away. He stood in the doorway stunned as he took in Eero's new size. It took a lot for the gruff ex-marine to be speechless. But the new size of the sexy muscle-slut before him certainly did the trick. "Fuck," was all gage could muster. Eero laughed, "I'd love to sometime.” Gage actually went red! "But not right now, I've got an early start tomorrow," Eero slapped Gage on the ass as he walked out of the shower room, the big muscle-slut brimming with confidence after his latest growth. ———————————————————————————————— # ——————————————————————————————————— © Rekoobaz Hope you enjoyed this little teaser of Chapter 11! To see the full chapter and more, head on over to my Patreon page! patreon.com/rekoobaz The Intergalactic Adventures of Eero will be an ongoing series on Patreon. Chapters 1 and 2 are free to view to give you a taste. (Links above) If you're interested you can find out more at patreon.com/rekoobaz By pledging just $1.00 per month you'll be able to enjoy this chapter and more in full at 4000+ words. Thanks, and again, feedback is appreciated! Don't forget to check out Eero on Tumblr. Enjoy all the sexy stuff that inspires The Intergalactic Adventures of Eero!
  16. https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12573-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-1-2/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12587-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-3/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12662-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-4/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12823-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-5/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13046-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-6/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13442-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-7/ Chapter 8: The Big Game The next morning my teammates and I awoke and made our way to the team's cafeteria for our typical pre-game breakfast. We noticed that strangely, most of the assistant coaches were not there enjoying breakfast with us. In fact, I saw a couple of assistants hustling quickly down the hallway as I walked into the cafeteria. I didn't think much of it, since, of course, this would be my first ever collegiate football game and being the first game of the season, I expected there to be some hectic surprises. The rest of the day the team hung out at the athletic center. As the game neared, I was becoming more and more nervous. Some of the upper-classmen noticed and did their best to give me pep talks and calm me down. Being just a freshmen, I appreciated the support, but it didn't calm my nerves much. Early in the afternoon we gathered in the players auditorium to run through our game plan with the assistant heat coach. Obviously, Coach Wood's massive leg wouldn't have fit in there, much less his entire impressive physique. Thus, Assistant Coach Harvey came in and led us through the game plan. At the end of the run through, Jamal asked. “Is Coach going to be on the sidelines with us?” Jamal and some others had also sensed some unease among the athletic staff throughout the day. Coach Harvey looked over the crowd of players, we could tell he was a little bit nervous, and spoke, “I'm positive he will be. I'll be frank with you all, The College Sports Association was offering some concerns about how to allow a man of Coach's size to be on the sidelines and it seems they attempted to force the school to disallow him to be on the sidelines.” A murmur wafted through the large crowd of amped-up young jocks. Coach Harvey quieted us and continued, “But, as our athletic staff has been researching, there's no rule against a giant man being on the sidelines so we don't see any reason why Coach won't be at the game. We are actively discussing with the Association and will confirm our stance with them. In the meantime, don't you worry about this matter. You young men have a huge opening game against our bitter rivals, the Monroe Mauraders. You focus on that, that's what Coach would want, got it!?” We all shook our heads and broke the meeting. After hanging out in the recreation room and eating another pregame meal fuel up, it was finally time to head to the locker rooms and get ready. The dozens of men around me began slipping into their pregame rituals. We had about 45 minutes before we had to be out on the field to warm up. Many of my now scantily clad teammates put in noise canceling headphones to zone out to their favorite warmup music. The jokesters of the group wandered around making fun to break the tension for those of us who were nervous. The Senior captains, clad only in football pants, their ripped upper torso's exposed, came around to quickly speak to each player and offer words of encouragement. The environment was brimming with amped-up testosterone waiting for competitive release on the gridiron. Soon we were suited up and ready to head out on the field. Assistant Coach Harvey came in to give us a little speech to pump us up some more. With and excited grin, he assured that our Giant Head Coach would be out there with us. This caused a raucous roar of approval from the team of young Brutes. Clad in our cleats, pants and undershirts, we each grabbed our shoulder pads and helmets and started for the exit of the locker room. The locker room wasn't directly connected to the stadium, we would have to cross a small, off-limits parking lot to enter the small stadium. The lot was specifically for the vising team busses, refs, and other College Sports Association (CSA) officials. As we headed for the door we felt a rumble on the ground. Jamal spoke up, “Awesome! The crowd must already be here, even for warmups! We don't usually feel the ground start to shake until the pregame show when the crowd is going nuts. Damn, I love our fans!” This further excited the rest of the team. We exited the door and began trotting down the soft carpet to the stadium entrance. We noticed it was a bright, beautiful, sunny, late summer day. I noticed we were bathed in shade, which was odd since there were no tall buildings or trees nearby. Then we heard some deep, deep rumblings that shook us to our core. I turned my head to my left, as did the rest of my team, and froze. My mouth hung open as I stared at the most magnificent, most awe-inspiring, yet terrifying sight I had ever seen. There, standing in the parking lot was Coach, clad in his normal outfit, sans shirt of course. Only he was bigger. Not just a little bigger. MUCH. MUCH. BIGGER. Whereas before the tallest members of our team reached the bottom of his tremendous diamond shaped calf muscles, now we didn't even clear the tops of his sneakers. The deep rumbling continued as we realized Coach was chuckling at us. The giant man leaned forward to address us. His upper torso was so muscular that he would have had to stand well back in order to see us over his monumental pecs without leaning forward. The monster muscle man opened his mouth and spoke. “HELLO DOWN THERE, BOYS. BOY, MY BIG STRONG BRUTE MEN SURE ARE LOOKING AWFULLY TINY LATELY! BUT DON'T WORRY, EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING LOOKS TINY TO ME LATELY, HEH HEH. WOW, YOU LITTLE GUYS DON'T BARELY REACH TO THE TOPS OF MY SNEAKERS, AND YOU ARE SOME OF THE BIGGEST MEN ON CAMPUS. YOU GUYS REALLY MAKE ME FEEL BIG!!!” Coach quickly stood straight up and reached HIGH into the sky. From our comparatively minuscule vantage point it looked like he could reach up and grab the sun. He then brought his arms down into a mind-blowing double-biceps pose. I'm sure the approaching fans got an amazing view. But, for us, he was so damn HUGE we could really only see the hulking triceps of his under arms, which were so pumped they hid his peaks from our eyes. He dropped the pose and again leaned forward, quickly adjusting his unavoidable bulge. “WHAT DO YOU THINK, BOYS? DO YOU THINK THERE WILL EVER BE A BRUTE AS HUGE AS ME!!” Myself and team began to overcome our natural fear and awe and happily shouted up our praise. A chorus of “No way, Coach!”, “You are the biggest Brute EVER!”, “A fuckin' MUSCLE GIANT!” and other similar platitudes emanated from my awestruck teammates. Coach grinned at us from far above. “SORRY I MISSED THE TEAM MEETINGS TODAY. I JUST COULDN'T FIT ALL THIS MASS IN THOSE TINY, ANT SIZED BUILDINGS.” He smirked down at us and continued, “YOU MAY HAVE NOTICED THE POWER WENT OUT LAST NIGHT. I WAS HEADED TO THE DEAN'S OFFICE WHEN I WALKED INTO SOME POWER LINES. DAMN THINGS ARE SO TINY TO ME DIDN'T EVEN SEE THEM AS MY LEGS CRASHED RIGHT INTO THEM. THE PHYSICS DOC SAID THE ENERGY WAS GREAT ENOUGH TO CAUSE ANOTHER GROWTH EPISODE. HE SAID I AGAIN DOUBLED IN HEIGHT! ISN'T THAT AWESOME, LITTLE MEN. YOUR COACH IS NOW A 100 FT COLOSSUS OF HUGE BODYBUILDER BEEF! GRRRRRRRR!!!” Coach growled and crunched into a most muscular pose above us, shielding us from the sun above and filling the entire team's vision with rippling, vascular, shredded, prodigious musculature. His growl was so ferociously loud we all shirked. Coach immediately noticed and quieted himself. “OOPS. SORRY LITTLE MEN. I'M SO HUGE THAT EVEN MY VOICE IS OVERPOWERING!” The players and myself began walking around Coach, examining his towering frame. Coach, pleased as peacock, simply stood still with his hands on his hips and with a bright handsome smile on his face as he looked down to us. We stood next to his sneakers, hardly able to comprehend the size of his footwear that were each the size of vans. We marveled that even at our highest reach our hands were far under the heavy sagging meat of his Fankhouser-esque calves. Jamal looked up and shouted up to our leader, “So glad you could be here, Coach. Coach Harvey said the CSA tried to keep you away.” Coach leered down to us with an ominous grin. “OH, THEY TRIED TO KEEP ME AWAY. A COUPLE OF GOVERNMENT GUYS CAME BY TOO AND TRIED TO GET ME TO GO WITH THEM. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? SOME TINY LITTLE "OFFICIAL" RUNTS TRYING TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO?” Coach leaned over, brought up his left arm and FLEXED his awe-inspiring biceps to full peak. Simultaneously, he reached over with his right arm and pointed at the boulder sized muscle. This time he angled himself forward so we could see the enormous mass bulge up from his arm. I remember how Coach had earlier said that he thought he was still growing slightly more muscular along with his sudden spurts of height and I could clearly see this in his arm. His astounding arm looked like it could've now been 26 or 27 inches around if he were at his previous mere moral height of six and a half feet. His biceps was so large that when he flexed, there was virtually no space between the mounded biceps muscle and thick elongated muscles of his forearm. “ALL I HAD TO DO WAS POINT AT THIS MUSCLE TO THEM KNOW WHO MAKES THE RULES. I TOLD THE LITTLE SHRIMPS THAT NO ONE IS GOING TO KEEP ME FROM COACHING MY BRUTES TO A VICTORY TODAY. AND THERE WAS NOTHING THEY COULD DO TO STOP ME. HELL, AT MY SIZE NO ONE COULD STOP ME FROM DOING ANYTHING IF I DON'T WANT THEM TO!” Coach sneered cockily as he relayed his story to us. It was impossible not to sense a bit of fear from his attitude. I imagined the CSA and government men pissing their pants as they tried in futility to tell the biggest, strongest, most powerful being on the planet what to do. Coach was an intimidating man at just 6 ft 6 inches tall. At 100 ft, that intimidation factor was magnified exponentially. Coach, sensing our unease, softened his expression. “SORRY IF I SCARED 'YA, LITTLE MEN. IT'S JUST THE THOUGHT OF NOT BEING ABLE TO COACH YOU MAKES ME VERY ANGRY.” Coach snickered and repeated that famous line from the Hulk franchise, “AND YOU WOULDN'T LIKE ME WHEN I'M ANGRY!” Coach then looked over his shoulder down at the parking lot. I wondered what he was searching for when I saw it. A small white sedan with the “CSA” logo painted on the side. Obviously the car used by the CSA officials to oversee the game. “THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THEY MAKE ME ANGRY!!” Coach raised his huge left foot, the fibers of his exposed quads firing as he moved. He was so large that he just had to lean over a bit to his left where he let his colossal sneaker SMASH down on top of he doomed car. In a millisecond the car was flattened beyond recognition. Unlike when Coach slowly caved in the news van from a couple of days ago, with his newly doubled size his massive shoe completely covered and obliterated the small car. We all jumped back from the sudden show of power. After a couple of seconds of stunned silence, my teammates began to shout more cheers and praise up at him. “Damn, Coach Brute! That was awesome!” “Yeah, Coach, show them CSA pussies who is in charge!” “Man I'm sure glad you are our Coach! You are like a god to the little people!” “Haha you made smashing that car look easy! You are so fuckin' powerful!” “Nobody tells you what to you, BIG COACH BRUTE! Especially not those tiny government boys!” Coach beamed with pride as he heard us, feeding his ever growing, yet deserved ego. Even with the frightening display of masculine power we just witnessed, we knew it had only been brought out because some foolish officials were trying to keep him from coaching us today. With a 100 ft tall overdeveloped herculean man watching over us, nothing could take us out! “WELL BOYS, IT'S TIME YOU HEAD INSIDE THE STADIUM TO WARM UP. BECAUSE I'M SO DAMN HUGE AND MUSCULAR, I'M GOING TO STAND OUT HERE TO COACH. OTHERWISE, WITH MY HUGE LATS, HALF THE STADIUM BEHIND ME WOULDN'T GET TO SEE YOU GUYS KICK SOME ASS.” Coach punctuated this statement with a titanic lat spread. The wing-like lats under his arms spread out to what looked like 25 yards across...then 30...then 35!! Coach's lats were so magnificently built, that when it looked like he couldn't get any wider, his enormous back muscles unfurled even further. The v-shape he demonstrated as he expertly flexed was nearly incomprehensible, seemingly extending his upper torso to three times the width of his chiseled abdominals. Coach chuckled some more as we stared up at him, again in awestruck silence. He broke the pose, allowing our brains to regain function. “YOU BOYS KEEP STARING AT ME LIKE THAT AND IT'S GOING TO GIVE ME A BIG HEAD, HAHA. NOW GET OUT THERE AND GET WARMED UP! GO!” His sudden demand caused us all to hustle onto the field. As we entered the field it became clear that Jamal was right about one thing. Many of our fans had showed up early and even with 45 minutes to kickoff the stadium was about 75% full. The crowd cheered us on as we entered the field, but as soon as the cheering died down I noticed that all the spectators had turned their heads toward the South end of the stadium. The South end was adjacent to the maintenance parking lot and at only about 30 ft tall, was the lowest part of the stadium. Thus, everyone could see the magnificent bare-chested giant bodybuilder standing behind there behind. He clapped as we entered, each time his hands connected it sounded like a large firecracker exploding. After Coach's news conference it became clear that so many people arrived early so they see the largest man in history with their own eyes. A few minutes later the visiting team entered from the opposite end of the stadium. I chuckled as the entire visiting froze as soon as they caught sight of our coach. Once they had got their wits back, they filed onto the field and stretch as well. The visiting Marauder's head coach, Thomas Morton, a well-known portly man who was known for his bombastic attitude and arrogant demeanor, trotted out onto the field and too became paralyzed with awe. Coach, with his hands on his hips in a powerful stance, quickly spotted the overweight opposing coach at the other end of the field. “COACH MORTON! WELCOME TO OUR STADIUM. I'M EXCITED FOR A GOOD GAME BETWEEN OUR SQUADS. BUT I MUST SAY, COACH MORTON, YOU'VE REALLY LET YOURSELF GO! HOW CAN YOU BE AN INSPIRATION TO YOUR PLAYERS TO GET BIGGER AND STRONGER WHILE LOOKING LIKE THAT? ONE THE OTHER HAND...” Coach spread his arms out wide and looked cockily down at his own torso. He alternately turned each arm, admiring the size of the unflexed muscles covering each appendage. He bent down and felt up the massive individual muscles of his quadriceps and then looked back at Coach Morton, “...ON THE OTHER HAND, MY BOYS SEEING ALL THESE HUGE MUSCLES OF MINE EVERYDAY ONLY INSPIRES THEM TO LIFT HARDER AND GET BIGGER AND STRONGER THEMSELVES!” Coach Morton had never felt so emasculated in his life. He just stood there, frozen, looking like a man whose entire dignity had been stripped away. He lowered his head and headed over to his sideline, looking defeated before the game even began. Something Coach obviously saw as he continued to address Coach Morton. “AND DON'T THINK I DIDN'T SEE THAT PRESS CONFERENCE YOU GAVE LAST WEEK. HOW YOU SAID YOUR TEAM WAS GOING TO CRUSH OUR TEAM. HOW YOU WOULD SHOW NO MERCY AND HAVE NO HARD FEELINGS ABOUT RUNNING UP THE SCORE! HOW ABOUT I SHOW YOU WHAT A REAL 'CRUSHING' WILL LOOK LIKE!” Coach looked down and to his right and reached down with both hands and picked something up. As he rose it became clear that he was holding each end of Morton's bus. In his hands it was no bigger than a loaf of bread. And with no more strength than a normal man would required to squeeze that loaf of bread, our giant coach bared his teeth and CRUSHED the ends of the bus together like an accordion. The windows shattered and fell to the parking lot. Loud distinct pops could be heard as the tires blew. The high pitched squeal of twisting metal pierced the air. “THIS IS WHAT REAL CRUSHING IS. AND YOU WILL NEVER KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE THIS POWERFUL. IF YOU ARE GOING TO USE BIG THREATENING WORDS, PERHAPS YOU SHOULD HAVE THE MUSCLE TO BACK IT UP! HAHAHA!” Coached laughed and let the crumpled-up mass of metals crash to the parking bellow. Coach Morton gulped in fear at what he had just seen. “OH, AND COACH MORTON, I CAN TELL YOU AND YOUR BOYS ARE SCARED OF ME AND TO PLAY AGAINST MY MEN. MAYBE EVEN SO SCARED THAT YOU ARE AFRAID TO WANT TO BEAT MY TEAM. WELL, THAT IS EVEN IF YOU COULD BEAT MY TEAM. IT'S UNDERSTANDABLE, I'M A REALLY, REALLY BIG STRONG MAN. BUT TRUST ME, IF YOU GUYS SLOW PLAY THIS GAME AND DON'T TRY YOUR HARDEST, THEN I ASSURE YOU I WILL BE VERY, VERY ANGRY. I WANT TO SEE A GOOD COMPETITIVE GAME, FULL OF EFFORT FROM BOTH SIDES, GOT IT?” Coach finished his statement by ominously cracking his knuckles. Ever the sportsman, he did not want us to win simply due to the other team's fear of his imposing body. He wanted us to EARN the win against a worthy opponent. I shuddered to think what would happen if the other team just flat out gave up and didn't give us any fight. Coach Morton dramatically shook his head up and down, notifying our Coach of his understanding that he wouldn't hold his team back. Forty minutes later the game began. Obviously, our head Coach couldn't perform all the duties typical of a mortal-sized coach so Assistant Coach Harvey took over for that. Still, as we had many hand signals, he was able to communicate sufficiently with us what he wanted on defense. For the first half the game was relatively tight. We never led by more than 10 points and after a successful long touchdown pass, we went into halftime with a three point lead. I could easily tell why the other team was one of the top in the nation. They were very good, very big and very strong. Not to mention the fear of invoking OUR Coach's wrath likely had them playing harder than they ever had. The giant man behind the South stadium provided us with excellent calls, motivation and inspiration. There was nothing like seeing his huge jacked body and handsome smile beaming proudly down at us after we made a good play. While the visiting Morton team was good, they were still no match or our own superior skill, size and strength and we began to slowly overpower them. Early in the 4th quarter we were nursing a seven point lead. The Marauders had the ball and were driving the field against us with some trick plays that caught us off guard. They were only 15 yards away from the North end zone. Before the next play, I looked up to see Coach signaling an outside blitz from me and I relayed the play to the rest of our team. The Marauders snapped the ball and I broke and made a beeline to their QB. As I closed in on him, I could see the surprise in his eyes. I saw him cock back his arm and start to lob the ball over my head for a screen pass. In a flash I read the play and leaped straight up as high as I could. I saw the ball just above my head, reached up and snagged it out of the air. INTERCEPTION! I landed and took off sprinting towards the opposite South end zone. As I ran as fast as I could, I saw Coach waving his beefy arms to me in a “come here” motion. I had never seen him look so excited before. I made it to the 50 yard line, then the 40, then the 30, I could feel the defenders on my heels. As I kept running Coach started JUMPING UP and down! I could feel the tremors rumbling the ground as his muscular tonnage pounded the ground. His massive pectorals bounced hypnotically as he himself bounced on the ground. The tremors were strong enough I almost tripped up! But I kept my balance and finally made it the the end zone! It was an 85-yard, pick-six interception! In my first collegiate game! I was so excited as my teammates caught up and mobbed me from behind that I barely noticed how winded I was from sprinting 85 yards. As the team cleared away I looked skyward to see Coach beaming proudly at me. Remembering that day in the weight room, I smiled up to him and gave him my most imposing most muscular pose, clenching my fists together in front of my waist. His grin widened more and he laughed. He then smirked, hunched over and returned his own far more impressive most muscular pose with a cocky smile. The crowd went wild, not only from my touchdown, but from seeing Coach FLEX his titanic muscles. In one play, I had turned the game from a tight contest into a dominating win for us. I had never felt so proud of myself in my life. With the momentum on our side, we dominated the rest of the game and ended up winning by three touchdowns. As the teams left the field, Coach addressed Coach Morton. “GOOD GAME COACH. WE'LL SEE YOU AGAIN NEXT YEAR. OH YEAH, REMEMBER WHAT I SAID, YOU WOULD REALLY SHOULD GET YOURSELF INTO THE WEIGHT ROOM IF YOU WANT TO COMPETE WITH THE LIKES OF THIS! HAHAH!” Coach laughed as he flashed the opposing coach a quick double biceps pose. As we exited the stadium we gathered around Coach's shoes. I noticed the car sized lump of twisted metal that was formerly the Morton passenger bus nearby and could hardly comprehend the power it would take to do that. Coach grinned down at us. “YOU LITTLE BRUTES SURE MADE THIS BIG BRUTE VERY PROUD TODAY. THAT WAS A CHAMPIONSHIP EFFORT. NOW, THERE ARE STILL 11 MORE GAMES IN THE SEASON SO DON'T THINK YOUR WORK IS DONE. YOU ALL NEED TO KEEP PRACTICING HARD AND LIFTING HARD AND IF YOU DO YOU HAVE A GREAT SHOT TO MAKE IT TO THE CHAMPIONSHIP COME DECEMBER. NOW HIT THE SHOWERS. AND CAPTAINS, OLDEST TO YOUNGEST, MEET ME EVERY 15 MINUTES IN THE FIELD HOUSE FOR A POST-GAME DEBRIEFING STARTING ONE HOUR FROM NOW.” After showering up and enjoying a nice post game meal, I soon headed over to the field house. The sophomore captain was just exiting as I entered the building. I walked in and there was Coach, standing up, the top of his cap dangerously close to the rafters of the field house, filling my view with fuzzy, rippling, golden MUSCLE. “THERE'S MY STAR OF THE GAME!” He said excitedly as I entered, filling my heart with pride. “GREAT GAME, JACKSON. THAT LONG PICK-SIX BASICALLY SEALED THE GAME FOR US. I BELIEVE YOU ARE A STAR IN THE MAKING, YOUR READ THAT SCREEN PASS BEAUTIFULLY, JUMPED UP AND SNAGGED THE BALL AND RACED BACK TOWARD ME...MAN THAT AWESOME.” “I owe it all to you, Coach! You called that blitz for me, it was the perfect call! That QB never saw me coming!” “I GUESS WE MAKE QUITE THE TEAM, YOU AND I, MY LITTLE BRUTE!” “Yes we do, my BIG COACH BRUTE!” I lowered my voice and shouted, trying to sound big, Coach chuckled at my playfulness. Coach then slowly crouched and sat down on his big bulbous ass. He put his arms beside him, palms flat on the turf, triceps flaring, and stuck his LONG legs straight out, straddling me. On each side of me were the world's biggest and most muscular thighs and in front of me was the worlds most packed crotch, trapping me in a virtual cocoon of manhood. Even with him sitting slowly, a big tremor rumbled through the ground as his hulking tonnage rested on the field turf. “THERE, MUCH BETTER. YOU LITTLE GUYS ARE BASICALLY SHRINKING TO ME. I DON'T MIND STANDING UP AND TOWERING OVER THE OTHER PEOPLE, IT REMINDS HOW HUGE AND POWERFUL I AM. BUT I DON'T LIKE INTIMIDATING MY OWN LITTLE BRUTES, HEHE.” “It's ok Coach, you really can't help it! Haha, even with you sitting there your head is FIVE stories above mine. I could practically HIDE under your pecs even with you leaning back. Your massive quads are so huge I would need a rope to scale them, it's like I'm flanked by two massive, golden tanned beefy walls of POWER. And your crotch...Coach, your shorts are looking tighter and tighter!” Coach smirked with satisfaction as I praised him. “HEH HEH. JACKSON, YOU SURE KNOW HOW TO MAKE THIS BIG BRUTE FEEL GOOD. REALLLLLL GOOD...” Coach leaned forward and brought one hand forward and began to palm his crotch in front of me. “AND YOU ARE RIGHT. LIKE I SAID, ALONG WITH MY HEIGHT SPURTS, I SEEM TO BE SLOWLY GETTING BIGGER AND MORE MUSCULAR...” He smirked down into my eyes and added, “...AND MORE HUNG!” By now I was rock hard as well, watching the monster in Coach's packed shorts grow. “Wow, Coach I can see that. OH MY GOD COACH!” I shouted in surprise and his monster dick began to extend out PAST the leg of his khaki shorts, pressed up tight against his left inner-thigh. “YEAH, LITTLE GUY. LOOK AT THAT. THAT IS A REAL COCK RIGHT THERE.” In complete shock and awe, I could only nod in agreement. “JACKSON, I HAVEN'T TOLD ANYBODY ELSE YET, BUT I HAVE AGREED TO LET THOSE GOVERNMENT BOYS RUN SOME TESTS ON ME. THAT MEANS I WON'T BE HERE FOR PRACTICE FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS.” My face fell as I looked up him disappointingly. “I KNOW, I KNOW. AND I KNOW I TELL YOU BOYS TO NEVER TAKE ANY GAME LIGHTLY, BUT YOUR NEXT GAME IS AGAINST A TEAM THAT WAS WINLESS LAST YEAR, SO I HAVE COMPLETE CONFIDENCE IN COACH HARVEY TO LEAD THE TEAM.” Coach's face turned stern, “AND TRUST ME, THERE IS NO WAY I'M GOING TO LET THEM KEEP ME AWAY FROM YOU GUYS FOR TOO LONG. IF THEY DO...THEY WILL REGRET IT.” Coach was so huge that it was easy to see all his muscles and tendons tighten and flex defensively, all his massive firehose-sized veins erupt as he considered what he would do if anyone tried to keep him away from us. “NOW, BEFORE I TAKE OFF TOMORROW...” Coach reached down his huge hand and began rubbing the now exposed cock head, “HOW ABOUT YOU JOIN ME IN ONE LAST BRUTE JACKING SESSION?” He grinned at me seductively, there was no way I could resist. I striped off my clothes and stood there naked and rock hard in between the giant man's legs. “OH YEAH, LOOK AT THE HOT JOCK STUD BODY. YOU LOOK SO GOOD, LITTLE BRUTE.” Coach's dick began to thicken and lengthen even more! Quickly I heard the unmistakable sounds of ripping. His cock was so huge and powerful, not to mention his now proportionally larger glutes and legs, that his khaki shorts could take to no more and began to tear at the inseam! Coach reached down, lifted his ass slightly off the turn and proceeded to finish TEARING his shorts off with a ear-piercing RRRRIIIIIPPPPPPP. He wasn't wearing underwear, and his rock hard cock sprang up like a trebuchet, thwacking his abdomen well above his navel. “AHHHH THAT FEELS SOOOOO MUCH BETTER. I OUTGREW MY UNDERWEAR A COUPLE OF DAYS AGO, IT'S NICE TO BE FREE OF THE LAST RESTRICTIVE PIECE OF CLOTHING! LET ME FINISH UNDRESSING LITTLE BUDDY!” Coach leaned way forward over me reaching his long arms behind me. He lightly bent his legs, reached forward and slipped off his shoes and socks. A warm smell of musky, jock feet crossed my nose. But it wasn't rank, just another pungent smell of ultimate masculinity. I looked straight up and saw each car-sized abdominal muscle hovering 30 feet above me. The valleys in between each ab was so deep they could've served as small canals. Coach leaned back and began to take off his hat and whistle. “Coach, wait!” I shouted. “Um...would...would yo mind leaving the hat and whistle on?” You look like such a huge jock muscle stud with them on!” Coach chuckled deeply. “YOU GOT IT, LITTLE MAN. TELL YOU WHAT, SINCE YOU WERE THE STAR OF THE GAME, WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO DO?” He asked with a smirk. I thought about it for a few exciting seconds. The possibilities I could dream up with him seemed endless. “Um, would you mind setting me on your belly, and then laying down with your hands clasped behind your head? I just want to explore your giant body, Coach!” “MMMMM JACKSON, I LIKE THE WAY YOU THINK.” He slowly reached forward and gently lifted me up with his incredible hands. Each finger was a long as I was. For a second I was worried he would accidentally crush me, no doubt he possessed the power to do so. But, he proved to be perfectly gentle, lifting me up with and depositing me on his titanic stomach, right now to the mushroom head of his monster cock. The massive beast had to be 15 feet long now and over four feet in diameter. He smiled as he leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head with a happy smile. His chest pulled up and his massive lats flared out, exposing his DEEP hairy armpits, again sending my sense of smell into overdrive as his sweaty musk permeated the air. Wow. Standing on his abs, I looked left, then right. There was SOOOO much super-developed man flesh spread out in front of me. I noted how his elbows were out so wide they were nearly brushing each side wall of the field house. I began to walk forward, noting the taught hard skin and enormou lumps of abs. I layed down on top of the upper most right side ab and just felt the hard, warm mass underneath me. I couldn't help it as I ground my hard cock into the taught, tough skin. “MMM EVEN THOUGH YOU ARE SO TINY I CAN FEEL THAT, JACKSON. FEELS GOOD.” I got back up and walk up to the shelf of his pecs. I traipsed over to his right nipple, the size of a beach ball and began to knead and punch it. Suddenly the ground below began to tremble. “OH DAMN, JACKSON, FUCK! MY NIPPLES ARE SO SENSITIVE. YOU'RE MAKING ME LEAK!” I glanced being me and sure enough, the huge cock head was dripping pre into a kiddle-pool sized puddle on his abs. After playing with his nipple I climbed up onto his pecs, now allowing me to see Coach's handsome face with his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of a tiny man exploring him. “Wow, Coach, your pectorals are so massive I could build a house on each one! I can see each sinewy fiber under your tanned skin. Your chest hair is so soft, it's like walking through a wheat field. No one on earth has BIGGER or MORE MAGNIFICENT pecs than, you do, Coach!” I feel the ground rumble underneath me as he moaned deeply from his sternum. I made my way over to his right armpit. I had to step down of his huge pecs. Luckily, his lats were so huge they gave me more than enough shelf to safely walk on. I spread my arms out and let my entire body fall into the warm musky pit. His pit hairs were so soft and comfortable. I ground my face into this pit and again felt Coach moan from pleasure. I saw a shadow cross over me and noticed he had release his left harm from behind his head to reach down and rub his pipeline sized cock. After servicing his pit I climbed back out and up onto his arm. For a muscle lover there was just no way I couldn't explore that arm. The massive ball of biceps and huge meaty triceps. I simply layed down in the relativity small divot between the biceps and triceps on the side of his arm and marvelled at the muscles flanking each side of me. “Coach, no man on earth has biceps like you. There have been proportionally bigger arms in history, but those arms were bolstered by layers and layers of fat. There may have been more ripped biceps in history, but they belonged to skinny little weak men who had zero fat. But no man has the ultimate combination of ripped AND huge, freaky, massive peaked biceps, and feathered triceps like you do. These are the best arms in HISTORY!” Coach growled and the FLEXED his right arm with loud GROWL. The arm underneath me expanded, the skin underneath my body pulled tighter in each direction as it struggled to contain the growing muscle. I watch as his already mounded biceps began to push higher...and higher! At my tiny size the split in his peaks was big enough to rest my leg inside! “FUCKKKK YEAH JACKSON. LOOK AT THOSE COLLOSAL ARMS. ARMS SO HUGE THAT YOU TINY MEN COULD LIVE IN THEM. ARMS THAT COULD CURL AN AIRCRAFT CARRIER! BICEPS SO MASSIVE AND HARD THAT A WRECKING BALL WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO DENT THEM!” Coached moaned some more and jacked his cock with more fervor. I followed his lead and did the same. “UHHHH JACKSON, LET'S DO THIS. NOW YOU DO ME A FAVOR. STAND UP ON MY CHEST, RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME WHERE I CAN SEE YOU, AND GIVE THAT MOST MUSCULAR POSE LIKE YOU DID AT THE GAME!” I walk over and stood on his right pec facing him. His left pec was bunching and and bouncing like crazy as he used his left arm to masturbate. He tilted his handsome face up and opened his deep blue eyes to see me standing on his pec, rising and falling as he took deep breaths. I kept my stance wide to maintain balance. As soon as his eyed made contact with mine, I smirked cockily, back at him. “A most muscular pose, Coach. Like you taught me?” I teased. Coach moaned and jacked harder. I then crouched forward and FLEXED my abs, arms, traps, pecs and legs as hard as I could and GROWLED as loud as tiny man could. “GGGGRRAHHHH COACH! LOOK AT MY MUSCLES THAT YOU HELPED BUILD!” Coach's face scrunched as the loudest moan I had ever heard erupted from his gaping maw. Suddenly I felt a huge stream of wetness fall across my shoulders and back. Coach's massive dick was EXPLODING WITH ORGASM, coating me in his seed. I quickly brought my own hands down and jacked my own rock-hard tumescence, seeing and feeling jet after jet of white Coach jizz shower me and the massive chest surrounding me. I screamed and let out my own powerful orgasm, coating the square footage of his hairy muscle chest in front of me. As I finished, I fell to my knees, and then laid down on the wet, hairy expanse of pectoral in front of me, exhausted. Coach let his arms fall to the side and I fell myself rise as his pecs consequently plumped underneath me from the motion. “DAMN, JACKSON. THAT WAS THE BEST ONE YET. THERE IS NO WAY I'M LETTING THOSE GOVERNMENT BOYS KEEP ME AWAY FROM YOU!” He rumbled, chuckling. “DAMN, NOW I HAVE EVEN MORE OF A MESS TO CLEAN UP!” He joked and as I stood up and laughed with him. Epilogue: Coach did indeed return next week right before the game. Our team dominated the rest of the season and coach was at every game. In December, we brought home the school's very first national championship. There were challenges with a 100 ft Coach, especially for away games, but like any challenge facing him, he met it head on along with the rest of us and came away with full success. Coach, of course, became a national celebrity, using his size to help out wherever he could. Whether it be assisting the fireman or police in rescue missions, cleaning up verhicle accidents or his favorite, helping the city demolish condemned or unwanted buildings. An activity where we really got to show off his size and power to his adoring fans. The university supplied him with sustenance and clothes, although he rarely wore a shirt. His huge body was like a human radiator and even in winter he only required a light tank top to keep warm. The university constructed some living quarters for him off campus in the form of a handful of aircraft hanger size buildings, furnished of course. Along with a massive heated swimming pool to allow him to wash off. Of course, I continued to see Coach during “captain's meetings” throughout the year. Coach had promised that he would stick around to coach the team for at least the next three years, through the end of my playing career before he would decide what the future held for him. Even without being able to properly workout with weight, Coach continued to slowly grow in musculature, aided by his nearly naked body constantly absorbing energy from the sun and his daily workouts consisting of various body weight movements. The only question that remained, was Coach truly done growing, or was there a power source out there strong enough to cause another doubling of his size? Only the future could tell.
  17. Hi There All! Chapter 9 has just been uploaded on my Patreon! Here's the preview for you to take a look at. If you'd like to find out more on the series and enjoy the full exclusive chapters, hop on over to my Patreon page. Pretty soon I'll be launching a new reward tier on my page with even more content! I only need 9 more supporters to reach my goal and I'll launch the new Tier. Please consider supporting if you like the story and want to enjoy more! Thanks! patreon.com/rekoobaz Enjoy! Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (Teaser) Chapter 4 (Teaser) Chapter 5 (Teaser) Chapter 6 (Teaser) Halloween Special (Full) Chapter 7 (Teaser) Chapter 8 (Teaser) The Intergalactic Adventures of Eero Chapter 9 (TEASER) - Break In patreon.com/rekoobaz When Eero stepped back aboard the Musculus he was certainly in for a shock. In the space of a few hours, Bale, with a lot of help from Argento had transformed one of the Musculus' small compartments into a fully functioning lab to continue his research. While small, it fit all the equipment required to manufacture more of Bales miracle nanites. Just seeing it all up and running made Eero's pecs tingle, or that could've been from the workout the shopkeeper Auxil had given them just an hour earlier. "What do you reckon?" Bale asked Eero as he admired the new space. "Whoa, you got that sorted quickly!" Eero enthused, "Although I'm not surprised," Eero turned to look at Argento, smiling. Bale laughed "He certainly does have his uses, a lot of them am I right?” Bale winked at Eero. Still a bit uncomfortable about slipping into another awkward moment between him and Bale, Eero quietly snuck off to his cabin. Bale had certainly made himself a valued part of the crew in few days he'd been with Eero and Argento. As well as essentially becoming the Musculus' science officer he was also a talented helmsman as well. Can't always leave it up to the auto-pilot. Eero liked Bale, no doubt, but his suggestive comments were a little bit annoying to Eero, he wanted to move at his own pace. Plus Eero still felt like he was cheating, and his girlfriend back home, Chastity, was getting extremely pissed off with Eero's lack of communication. In her messages to Eero she continually kept throwing him verbal assaults and accusing him of probably sleeping with "sluts" behind her back. Eero would just apologise and try to diffuse the situation. If only she knew what he was really up to. ————————————————————————————————- # ——————————————————————————————————— Eero hurried into his cabin and began rummaging through the bag of treats Auxil had supplied him with. Aside from his new liquid metal posing strap, Auxil had also provided Eero with a few plain black straps for practice posing, but there was more. Also in the bag were a few items from Auxil's special back room. First, Eero pulled out the most amazing jockstrap he'd seen, nothing like the boring old things from his athletics days. This one was silver all over, much like his new poser, but whereas the poser looked like mercury the jockstrap looked like brushed metal. "Damn!" Eero exclaimed to himself, "Don't know what use I'll have for it though. Don't do much athletics anymore.” Poor Eero, he was so innocent sometimes. Next, he pulled out a pair of rather indecent cut-offs. They were so tight looking Eero was unsure if they would even fully accomodate his thick glutes. Only one way to find out though. Eero slipped of his boots then slowly slid the cut-offs up over his thong. "Oh! They're tight, but the material stretches" Eero thought to himself. He admired the painted on look they achieved as he studied his reflection in the mirror. "I just don't get what this zipper up the back is for?" Eero shrugged at his reflection Eero recognised pretty much everything else in the bag, a few stringer tees for training in, shorts and high socks. But there was one last thing he couldn't identify. In the bottom of the bag was a set of metal cock-rings. Eero had no idea what they were, the blossoming muscle-slut still had a lot to learn. ————————————————————————————————- # ——————————————————————————————————— Eero spent the rest of the evening playing around with his new wardrobe before eventually managing to pull himself away from the mirror and crawl into bed. Eero's sleep however was far from restful. In his dream-state, Eero was back in the fitting room with Auxil, this time modelling the skimpy new items the shopkeeper had given him. Only in Eero's dream, his muscles were even bigger. Eero strutted back in forth the fitting room which had conveniently doubled in size in his dream-state. Eero jumped from pose to pose, alternating between classic bodybuilding poses and others a little more sexy, using his newfound sexual confidence to assault Auxil's eyes. Had it been real, every pose would be burnt into the shopkeepers retinas. Under Eero's sheets, the horny young bodybuilder was quickly growing hard as the scene played back behind his eyelids. The dream felt almost lucid to Eero, he could feel the heft of his even larger muscles, easily 280lbs, maybe more, a little gift from his sub-conscious, or maybe a sign of things to come? As dream Eero posed for the shopkeeper in front of him, he began to feel hands caressing his back and lower body, massaging him sensuously, knowing just where Eero's body enjoyed the attention; his glutes, of course, the hands also running across the striations of his quads and the tightness of his waist. Dream Eero continued to pose and keep his vision on Auxil, but Eero really wanted to catch a glimpse of who was feeling him up. There were two distinct pairs of hands he could feel, revelling in to tactile joy of his muscles. Eventually one pair moved around front to lavish some attention of Eero's abdomen, but the poor bodybuilder couldn't see who it might be, the mystery figure obscured by Eero's enormous pecs. The figure soon found something else to enjoy on Eero's front. It was hard to miss, growing painfully hard in both his dream and under his sheets. The mystery figure freed Eero's erection from the confines of the colourful jockstrap he was wearing in the dream, and they wasted no time in greedily swallowing all 8.5 inches down their gullet. Slurping happily as dream Eero moaned in delight and encouraged him to go further. Auxil was quickly fading into the background, as was everything else, Eero's dream becoming dominated by the pleasure he was receiving from the two expert worshippers that had him enveloped in sexual bliss. If only he could get a look at them! Pretty soon though the second figure moved around the front as well, focusing their attention on Eero's pecs, replicating the worship he had received from Auxil, only better. Eero could see only the top the figures head. The figure roughly latched onto Eero's left engorged nipple with their teeth and played with the right between their fingers, pulling and rubbing it violently. Pretty soon the triple assault his Eero's nipples and erection made his knees give way in pleasure. Eero collapsed backwards, the two worshippers going with him, their bodies falling on top his. And for the first time their faces were revealed. Eero gasped in shock. THEY WERE HIM! ————————————————————————————————- # ——————————————————————————————————— © Rekoobaz Hope you enjoyed this little teaser of Chapter 9! To see the full chapter and more, head on over to my Patreon page! patreon.com/rekoobaz The Intergalactic Adventures of Eero will be an ongoing series on Patreon. Chapters 1 and 2 are free to view to give you a taste. I'll be starting out with two chapters every month with more exciting content to come in the future. (I only need 9 more Patrons to reach my next goal!) If you're interested you find out more at patreon.com/rekoobaz By pledging just $1.00 per month you'll be able to enjoy this chapter and more in full at 4000+ words. Thanks, and again, feedback is appreciated!
  18. Previously: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12573-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-1-2/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12587-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-3/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12662-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-4/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12823-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-5/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13046-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-6/ Chapter 7: Captain The next day, Friday, was our last day of preparation before the big game tomorrow. In order to allow our bodies to heal and rest up from the hard week of practices, the pre-game practice was more of a walkthrough in just our shorts, t-shirts and helmets. Coach towered over us all at center field, shirtless, explaining our game plan on offense and defense. His exposed torso was a point which Jamal, the big playful lineman, couldn't ignore. “Yo Coach, where is your tank top from yesterday? Or are you just trying to impress us with your jacked muscles?” A deep, rumbling chuckle could be felt in all our chests. “WELL JAMAL, IS IT WORKING?” Coach lifted up his left arm and clenched his fist, flexing his titanic biceps far above our heads and exposing his cave-like armpit. Whistles, hoots and appreciative hollers were voiced up toward the giant posing man. “HAHA, BOYS. JUST DIDN'T WANT TO GET ONE OF MY FEW SHIRTS SWEATY. A BIG MAN LIKE ME ONLY HAS SO MANY CLOTHES.” I noted that Coach's bare skin seemed even a slight shade darker than yesterday, as if the energy he was absorbing was not only making him bigger, but perfecting him in other ways too, giving his skin a deep bronzed glow underneath the light covering of body hair. Jamal shook his head and added, “Damn, Coach, I swear you are looking more swole than ever!” Coach grinned as he flexed and unflexed his cannon, pumping it up bigger. “I KNOW MY BODY, JAMAL, AND I AM DEFINITELY MORE “SWOLE” AS YOU KIDS SAY. IF I WAS STILL MY OLD SMALL, ORIGINAL HEIGHT, I'D VENTURE A GUESS THAT I'VE PUT ON AT LEAST A SOLID INCH ON MY ALREADY AWESOME ARMS. I CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF THE ENERGY FLOWING THROUGH ME, MAKING ME BIGGER AND STRONGER! I LOVE IT!” After Coach's self appraising speech, we ran through a few plays at half speed to make sure we were all on the same page. After a short 45 minute practice session we gathered literally at the feet of Coach for one final practice speech. As part of the speech, he also discussed the captains. Yesterday during film we all voted for two captains. Coach revealed proudly that, unsurprisingly, our starting senior quarterback and senior all-American linebacker were two of the captains as voted on by the rest of the team. We clapped for our team leaders as they stepped up in front of coach's massive sneakers and he commended them. As we stared up at his heaving pectorals, Coach then announced the additional three captains as chosen by the coaching staff. We applauded as he called up the Junior starting center and our up-and-coming star Sophomore defensive lineman. Coach then finished, “AND MY FELLOW BRUTES, CONGRATULATIONS TO TOMORROW'S STARTING SAFETY AND CAPTAIN, FRESHMAN MASON JACKSON!” My eyes went wide as I heard my name and saw my leader's gigantic, handsome eyes boring into mine, his face with a proud smile. The rest of the team hooted and hollered, those close to me patting my back as I made my way up to the front with the other captains. I was stunned and speechless. Here I was, being named not only a starter, but as a team captain, and I was only a Freshman. “BRUTES, THESE FINE MEN WILL BE YOUR ON-FIELD CAPTAINS. ONLY THEY ARE ALLOWED TO ADDRESS THE REFS ON THE FIELD. THEY WILL BE YOUR LEADERS ON THE FIELD, LISTEN TO THEM. AND CAPTAINS, MYSELF AND THE OTHER COACHES DO NOT TAKE LIGHTLY IN SELECTING YOU. YOU HAVE EARNED THE “C” ON YOUR JERSEYS, DO NOT LET US DOWN. NOW, THE REST OF YOU HIT THE SHOWERS AND THEN MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE FILM ROOM. OBVIOUSLY I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO JOIN AS I'M TOO BIG TO FIT IN THE FILM ROOM, BUT THE ASSISTANTS WILL TAKE YOU THROUGH THE SESSION. CAPTAINS, STICK AROUND, I WANT TO GO THROUGH A COUPLE MORE THINGS WITH YOU BEFORE YOU SHOWER UP.” After the rest of the team left the field, Coach got down on the one knee in an attempt to get closer to us and together we walked through the duties of the captains, including what we would need to do during the coin toss tomorrow. We discussed several scenarios, whether to defer or take the ball, which side of the field to choose, how to consider the wind and weather, etc. Coach then instructed each of us to visit with him one-on-one early this evening. He wanted to speak with each of his captains individually to further go over each of our respective responsibilities. Since I was the youngest captain, I would be the last to visit him at about 8:00pm tonight. Coach rose up off his knee to his full height, his abs and pecs rising like a hot air balloon above our heads, and dismissed us to shower. “THANK YOU MY BRUTE CAPTAINS. NOW GET READY FOR FILM SESSION AND PAY ATTENTION. YOU ARE THE NEXT IN THE CHAIN OF COMMAND AFTER THE ASSISTANT COACHES, SO ITS ALSO YOUR RESPONSIBILITY TO KEEP YOUR TEAMMATES IN CHECK AS WELL. I'M COUNTING YOU MEN. HIT THE SHOWERS!” Once cleaned up we joined our teammates and the assistants to watch film. The assistants also ran through tomorrow's agenda. Even though the game wasn't until 7:00pm tomorrow night, we were instructed to be at the athletic complex early in the morning for breakfast and we would remain there, isolated for the entire day to avoid distractions. After film I had one Friday afternoon class before I headed to the cafeteria to fuel up. I caught up on some studying until it was 7:45pm, when it was time to head to the field house for my meeting with Coach. As I was walking through the corridor to the field house I passed the starting quarterback. I was right on time. I opened the door and was again instantly overtaken by Coach's superhuman scent, causing my cock to twitch. Coach was sitting on his bench, shirtless with just a sheet wrapped around his waist, his head still a good 30 or so feet above the ground when he spotted me. “JACKSON! WELCOME MY LITTLE BRUTE CAPTAIN!” Coach shifted his butt down onto the turf to speak to me from a more equal level. “Thanks Coach. I'm honored and so surprised. I...I don't know what to say. I mean, I thought there would be several other guys who are better than me-” Coach cut me off, “DON'T YOU START DOUBTING YOURSELF, JACKSON. YOU EARNED YOUR CAPTAIN'S STATUS. THERE ARE OTHER MEN ON THE TEAM WHO MAY BE BETTER ATHLETES THAN YOU, BUT NONE OF THEM HAVE YOUR COMBINATION OF INTELLIGENCE TO GO WITH YOUR ATHLETICISM. YOU NEED BOTH BRAINS AND BRAWN TO SUCCEED AT THIS LEVEL AND YOU HAVE IT. YOU'VE BEEN WORKING YOUR TAIL OFF SINCE YOU GOT HERE.” Coach and I spent the next few minutes discussing what he expected of me as a captain. How he wanted me to be a leader on the field and speak up and make decisions for my teammates, even though I was younger than three-quarters of the team. How I would be one of the players who is allowed to speak the referees when a penalty occurs. It seemed like such a huge responsibility but with Coach encouraging me I had never been so excited to tackle a new task. “YOU HAVE A BRIGHT FUTURE. YOUR GROWTH SINCE I RECRUITED YOU HAS BEEN WONDERFUL TO WATCH, JACKSON. AND NOT JUST YOUR FOOTBALL SAVY, I'VE ALSO NOTICED THE MUSCLE YOU'VE PUT ON. HOW MUCH WEIGHT HAVE YOU GAINED SINCE THE BEGINNING OF THE SUMMER?” I smiled up at Coach, happy that he was seeing what I was also seeing in the mirror. “So far about 15 pounds!” “THOSE ARE SOME GREAT GAINS FOR A MAN YOUR SIZE. I CAN DEFINITELY SEE IT. AND I CAN SEE IT IS ALL MUSCLE. YOU'RE SHREDDED, AND SEEING YOUR ABS MAKES ME FEEL LIKE A FAT MAN!” We shared a laugh as Coach patted his mighty stomach. While my abs were small yet deeply etched, his were huge and powerful, like the rest of him. “Thanks Coach. Although my gains are nothing compared to yours in the past week!” “HAHA, I GUESS THAT'S TRUE JACKSON. I'VE HAD A BIT OF HELP TOO, BUT I'M NOT COMPLAINING!” Coach said as he looked down and bounced his pectorals, one by one. “Damn, Coach, your muscle control is insane!” “THANKS JACKSON. I'M SURE WITH YOUR GROWING BODY YOU ARE LEARNING TO DO FUN TRICKS LIKE THAT TOO. AND TRUST ME, THE LADIES LOVE IT!” Coach smirked wryly at me and added, “AND SO DO THE DUDES.” I grinned up at Coach and caught a sparkle in his eye. He then requested, “WELL JACKSON, STRIP OFF THAT TANK TOP. SHOW ME YOUR PROGRESS. YOU'VE SEEN MY BOD, LET'S SEE YOUR MUSCLES. SHOW ME A DOUBLE-BICEPS POSE.” I obeyed and whipped off my tank top and tossed it on the ground. Coach was still sitting on the ground with his back against his bench. He legs were splayed wide on each side of me as he watched me intently. I brought my arms out wide and slowly raised my fists upward and toward my head, flexing my biceps. “VERY NICE JACKSON. YOU HAVE SOME NICE PEAKS. GREAT SEPARATIONS. LET'S SEE YOUR CHEST.” I turned sideways and tried to mimic Coach's side chest flexes. “AGAIN, YOUR DEVELOPMENT IS GREAT FOR YOUR SIZE. NOW SHOW ME YOUR BACK.” I turned around and again brought up both biceps and gave Coach my best back-double biceps pose. “A NICE WIDE BACK TO GO WITH YOUR TINY WAIST. TREMENDOUS V-SHAPE. YOU'VE GOT A FRAME THAT COULD EASILY PUT ON PLENTY OF MUSCLE.” I turned around and beamed. “Thanks, Coach! Your weight training program has really helped. And you are such an inspiration, seeing your big bulging body every day.” I grinned and brought my arms up into another double-biceps flex and playfully crowed at Coach. “I would love to be a bodybuilder like you some day!” Coach chuckled and started to stand up. As he rose from the ground he grinned, “JACKSON. YOU ARE LOOKING GOOD AND YOU CERTAINLY GOT THE GENES. YOUR POSING NEEDS SOME WORK THOUGH. HERE, LET ME SHOW YOU WHAT A REAL POSING ROUTINE LOOKS LIKE!” I gasped at the what I was about to see. Coach slowly stood, reaching the pinnacle of his towering height, with me standing awestruck on the ground about 15 feet in front of his ankles. “THIS IS HOW YOU DO A PROPER DOUBLE-BICEPS POSE, LITTLE MAN.” Coach re-planted his feet so they were slowly pointed outward. This caused his mega-sized quad muscles to bulge even larger. He clenched his stomach muscles before he gracefully swayed both his arms out wide and up, where he paused for just a second, before locking the position of his elbows and then swinging his forearms upward while making a fist. Each of his biceps erupted from his arms. “POSING IS ALL ABOUT FORM AND GRACE,” he narrated as he unclenched and reclenched his fists, causing the wrecking ball size biceps muscles to rise and fall hypnotically. Coach then synchronously brought both arms down while rotating 90 degrees. He did so with the fluid motion of a ballet dancer. It was a side of Coach I had never seen. Not only was he immensely powerful, when he wanted to he could move with a beauty and grace that belied his rugged, supremely pumped body. He brought one arm to the side and while smiling down at me, puffed up his pecs and performed a perfect side chest pose. Even he was impressed with how we was looking, “WOW, JACKSON, YOU COULD PRACTICALLY BUILD A HOUSE ON THAT PEC SHELF, DON'T YOU THINK?” I nodded, dumbfounded at what I was having the pleasure of seeing. Coach then swung his arms out wide again and using their momentum to turn another 90 degrees to show me his back, which was loaded with mounds and mounds of thick, lenticular muscles. As I stared up 30 ft into the air I was greeted by the sight of Coach's two, thick erector muscle columns, no doubt overly developed from years of massive deadlifts. As my eyes drifted higher my own eyes had to refocus into wide angle lenses as his tanned, hairless lats suddenly jutted outward, even without flexing. Coach then reached both hands back and placed his fists near the top of his waist. As he faced away from me I heard, “IF YOU WANT TO WATCH A MOVIE SOMETIME, JACKSON, I KNOW WHERE YOU CAN FIND A WIDE SCREEN! HAHA!” As Coach joked he slowly unfurled his incredible lat muscles. Throwing his elbows out wider...and wider. He unfanned his lats and I was astounded. He looked to be 25 ft wide!! Saliva dripped from my open mouth as Coach presented me with an Olympia quality back lat spread. Somehow, I audibly emanated a “wow” and saw my hero's body bounce slightly as he chuckled at my verbal awe. From over his shoulder, Coach added with a cocky grin, “OF COURSE, HOW CAN I SHOW OFF MY HAMSTRINGS AND GLUTES WITH THIS BIG BAGGY SHEET?” I gasped as Coach undid the sheet and it fell to the ground. I again gasped as two of the most glorious ass muscles that ever existed loomed above me about 25 ft up in the air. His glutes were just as developed as the rest of him, sitting atop his ribbed hamstrings and presenting a tight crease where his hamstrings and glutes met. The old adage, 'you could bounce a quarter off that ass' was apt here, only in his case you could use a manhole cover instead! Coach adjusted his stance and really squeezed his glutes, which shockingly tightened even further revealing a clear concave dimple in each glute. I was certain that butt could squeeze coal in diamond. By this time, I was rock hard although I hadn't even noticed. The titanic man of muscle in front of me was just too much. Even slightly bigger, harder and more muscular than when I saw him in the pool the other day, and now seeing him in his full gigantic glory under the bright indoor lights had me at full mast, harder than I'd ever been in my life. And it was only going to get hotter as Coach slowly turned around to face me. As he turned I quickly spotted...it. Jutting far out past his his hip. Like me, his posing session had turned him on. Coach only had to twist his body by about 30 degrees before the enormous cock head came into view. He continued turning slowly around to face me, his battering ram making a wide arc out in front of him. Finally he was facing me with his hands on his hips and his erection jutting out directly above my head. With him being so huge his face was obscured from me by the pornstar-sized schlong. Coach chuckled and twisted his hips slightly, again exposing me to his handsome smiling face. “POSING ALWAYS GET'S ME EXCITED, HOPE YOU DON'T MIND, LITTLE BRUTE.” I saw his massive eyes drop slightly downward as he took notice of my own tenting shorts. “IT LOOKS LIKE MASSIVE MUSCLE FLEXING GETS YOU EXCITED TOO, JACKSON! WHY DON'T YOU LOSE THE SHORTS, AND JOIN ME IN POSING. PERHAPS I CAN GIVE YOU A COUPLE OF POINTERS.” I dropped my shorts and kicked them to the side as Coach Wood gave me a whistle. “YOU ARE ONE FINE SPECIMEN OF YOUNG SEXY BEEF, JACKSON,” he said as I felt myself go into a full body blush. “THOSE EXTRA 15 LBS OF MUSCLE ARE SUITING YOU VERY WELL. IT GOES WELL WITH THAT IMPRESSIVE COCK YOU'RE SPORTING THERE, LITTLE STUD.” I grinned up at Coach as he peered far down into my own relatively tiny eyes. “HOW ABOUT A MOST MUSCULAR? LIKE THIS!” Coach's chest tilted forward toward me and it felt like a wall was falling at me, causing me to flinch just slightly. He brought his fists together just above his waist and FLEXED every muscle of his torso down at me. His width seemingly doubled in size as each muscle tightened into frightening definition. The fibers snaking across the top of his chest looked to be as large as ropes to me as he smirked and growled and held the pose. I grinned up at him and mimicked his pose as best as I could, bringing my own hands together in front of me. Of course, being at a level 40-some feet below him I couldn't much hunch forward, but I did my best to crab my torso muscles and sneer up at coach. “OH YEAH, JACKSON. LOOKING POWERFUL. YOU'RE GOING TO GIVE ME A RUN FOR MY MONEY I SEE! ALL THE LITTLE GIRLS AND BOYS WILL BE ALL OVER YOUR BUFF BODY.” I reveled in his praise. “BUT...I DON'T THINK YOU CAN QUITE COMPETE WITH THIS!!!” Coach raised both his monstrous arms up and brought his hands together behind his head. His bulbous lats flared out like a the wings of a peacock. Each arm seemingly doubled in size as the muscles of the limbs fought for space and bunched against each other. Each biceps was so massive the peaks were pressing against his own temples. The exposed hairy armpits were so deep and cavernous due to his incredible pectorals and delts that I could've gone spelunking in them. He swung one massive leg out in front of himself and planted his foot, which was longer than I was tall, right in front of me. He growled down at me as he crunched his abs together and flexed his godly quadriceps, giving me the most amazing abs-and-thighs pose ever seen on this earth. From my vantage point just below his shins I was looking up at a tower of thick, powerful, bodybuilder muscle and manhood. Coach's own proportionally 13 inch cock, that is, 13 inches if he were still a 6 ft 6 mortal, loomed above me like a battering ram, flanked on each side by tons of warm, veiny, dense muscle. I broke my pose and just stared way up in awe, my own cock now leaking. I could barely speak. “So...so big...so huge...” I muttered and my hero smirked as he heard. “Coach Wood, you are amazing. Wow, I've never been so turned on by a man before. You are amazing, sir. No man on this earth could ever compete with you. Those muscles, that definition, that...that...monster cock. You make every man on this planet look like a...pathetic weakling! You are so...so hot!” He relaxed the pose and chuckled before giving me a warm smile. “THAT MAY BE TRUE JACKSON, BUT I DON'T WANT YOU OR ANY OF YOUR TEAMMATES TO EVER THINK OF YOURSELVES AS PATHETIC WEAKLINGS. I MAY BE IN A LEAGUE OF MY OWN, BUT YOU ARE MY PLAYERS AND I WANT YOU TO BE THE BEST MEN YOU CAN BE. YOU ARE A STUD, JACKSON. YOU'RE TALENTED, SMART, ATHLETIC, YOU'VE GOT A FANTASTIC BODY...” I noticed now that Coach was playing with his tumescent log. “...AND YOU ARE HANDSOME TO BOOT.” Coach sighed as his massive eyes bored holes into my own. I could feel the tension in the air. It was then that I realized I had been full on jacking my dick while talking with Coach. “YOU ARE SUCH A GOOD LOOKING YOUNG MAN. FUCK, I JUST CAN'T HELP IT!” Coach suddenly stooped over and reached his mighty right hand down and wrapped his fingers around me. I lurched up into the air as he picked me up. He moved me up to his waist where we sat me down straddling the magnificent caber that was his cock. I leaned back against his pelvis, his trimmed pubic hair scratching against my back. “JACK OFF WITH ME MR. MASON JACKSON, I HAVEN'T GOT OFF SINCE THAT EVENING IN THE POOL I'M SO PENT UP.” I stared forward and saw his monstrous hands work down and back on the mighty erection. The sequoia sized, sinewy forearms moving toward and away from me in rhythmic motion. I titled my head back and looked up and saw the underside of his gigantic pecs hiding his face from view. Each nipple pointed down toward me due to his herculean development. I joined him and began beating my own dick in the same rhythm as coach. After a few minutes of heavy mutual masturbation I could feel my body becoming warm and wet, dampened from my own sweat and my coach's. I could hear Coach's breathing picking up along with mine. He then again reached toward me and picked me up with his right hand. He lifted me up and held me in front of his sex-glazed eyes. “FEEL MY MUSCLES, JACKSON.” He then lifted his left arm and flexed. He maneuvered me over and laid me down on top of the flexed biceps muscle! My ass was sitting in the crook of his arm while I leaned forward and hugged the granite mound of flesh. Coach flexed and unflexed his arm and I felt myself rise and fall against it. The motion of the muscle fibers bunching and elongating against my groin caused stimulated me to start humping his muscle. Coach signed heavily, “OH YEAH JACKSON, THAT'S SO HOT. FUCK MY MONSTER BICEPS, MY LITTLE BRUTE!” My body was on fire as I leaned forward to lick the flexing mass underneath me. At his size, the split in his biceps was as big as the cleavage between a normal-sized bodybuilder's pecs. I continued to grind my rock hard cock against his arm. At one point I glanced to the side and down 25 ft or so to see coach using his free hand to furiously jack his own meat. “OOOOOOHHHH YEAH LITTLE BUDDY. LET'S BLOW TOGETHER!” Coach began to flex and unflex faster, bringing me to a fever pitch of muscular stimulation. Not 30 seconds later both of our bodies tightened. Coach flexed his biceps harder than ever, his forearms pressing against my back forcing my body into his boulder-sized muscle. We both groaned loudly and blew our loads in sync. I was only slightly disappointed that I didn't get to see his geyser, but unloading my balls on his biceps was more than enough to make up for it. As we calmed down Coach reached over and gently lifted me from his arm, his wet, jizz soaked fingers encircled my waist and he set me on the ground. I looked behind me to see various pools of white cum dotting the turf of the field house. I looked back up at Coach and saw one of the hottest things I had ever seen. Coached smirked down at me, again flexed his left biceps muscle and brought it toward his mouth. He stuck his tongue out and licked up my own load off the taught, titanic biceps. “MMMM, NOT ONLY ARE YOU A STUD, YOU TASTE GREAT TOO, JACKSON.” To clean up, we again snuck our way into the pool. Once we were clean Coach dismissed me for the night. “GET SOME REST, JACKSON. WE'VE GOT A BIG GAME TOMORROW. AND, I NEED TO GO BACK AND FIGURE OUT HOW I'M GOING TO CLEAN UP MY MESS IN THE FIELD HOUSE,” he chuckled. My roommate and I were hanging out as we prepared for bed. We talked excitedly about how our first game would go tomorrow. Suddenly the power went out, which was odd since there were no storms in the area. Luckily, since it was Friday night neither of us were in the middle of any homework assignments so no school work was lost. About 10 minutes later the power came back on. We watched some TV before settling in and drifting off to sleep, excited for the chance to play for our giant football coach the following day.
  19. Hi There All! Chapter 8 has just been uploaded on my Patreon! Here's the preview for you to take a look at. If you'd like to find out more on the series and enjoy the full exclusive chapters, hop on over to my Patreon page. Pretty soon I'll be launching a new reward tier on my page with even more content! I only need 10 more supporters to reach my goal and I'll launch the new Tier. Please consider supporting if you like the story and want to enjoy more! Thanks! patreon.com/rekoobaz Enjoy! Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (Teaser) Chapter 4 (Teaser) Chapter 5 (Teaser) Chapter 6 (Teaser) Halloween Special (Full) Chapter 7 (Teaser) The Intergalactic Adventures of Eero Chapter 8 (TEASER) - Luyten Station patreon.com/rekoobaz Location: Luyten Interplanetary Space Station, Luyten B (Geocentric Orbit), Luytens Star, 1st Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy Year: 2135 Eero slowly meandered through the crowds to the shopping mall section of the station. It was nowhere near the size of the one he had visited back on T-1e several weeks earlier but it still had all the amenities the interplanetary traveller could ask for. As with any other outing, Eero's clothing choice did cause the odd sideways glance from a few people, usually from travellers from more conservative frontier planets, unfamiliar with the more relaxed clothing choices of more established, sophisticated planets. Eero paid no heed to those types though, as he could sense he was getting more than a few looks of admiration as well. And when Eero encountered some crowded areas, he could've sworn he felt the odd hand against one of his exposed cheeks or lower back. Nice! Eero descended to the lower levels of the mall, where the less highend stores usually set up, hoping to find a small supplement store or something similar. What he found was even better. Nestled between a whole string of loud obnoxious sporting stores manned by overly enthusiastic shop assistants was a proper bodybuilders emporium. Eero sauntered in, feeling like it would be the perfect chance for show off his improved bulk to his peers. The response was almost instant. "Damn Bro! Thats some sick chest development!" yelled one of the store patrons, clearly a bodybuilder, probably slightly older than Eero. Eero beamed, and flexed his chest a little to his admirer, "Heh, thanks!” "How'd you get pecs that big man?" The guy asked. "Ahh, just hard work and dedication," Eero lied, he wasn't about to give up his secret weapon, Bale. Eero meandered through the store, savouring the compliments and admiring glances from the other few shoppers. The commotion soon drew the attention of the shopkeeper Auxil, who was entranced by Eero's muscles. Auxil was once a bodybuilder himself, but the passing of time had meant he was sadly past his prime. Auxil watched the young bodybuilder make his way through the store, eventually settling on the poser rack. "I do need a new poser!" Eero thought. "Frisco destroyed my old one when he was giving me 'posing advice' that time.” Eero admired the range, the different cuts, materials, styles, there was way more variety than what he'd seen back home. Eeros old poser was actually quite conservative, except for its slutty pink colour. "See anything you like?” Came a deep voice from beside Eero. Eero jumped, startled by the sudden appearance of the shopkeeper. Auxil let out a deep laugh, "Didn't mean to scare you comrade," Auxil's voice was a little gravely, but nonetheless friendly. "That's ok, I'm Eero, "Auxil," the Shopkeeper replied. "looking for something in particular?” "Well, I do need a new poser, my previous competition one was ripped," Eero explained. "My last one was a lot like this one here," Eero gestured at the most boring poser on the rack. Auxil looked at the poser, then at Eero. "Nyet, we can't have you in something like that my friend," Auxil explained. "Too much material in the back, you need something cut higher.” "Uhh, I dunno . .,” Eero hesitated. "You must!" Auxil insisted, "Look at what you have on now, your thong is more revealing than that poser!" he laughed. Auxil did have him there. Eeros outfit did show off a lot more of the pelvic region than his old poser would’ve. "Probably another reason why I didn't place last time," Eero thought to himself. "I guess you're right, any recommendations?” "For you, this one here," Auxil pointed to one of the pegs. Eero almost balked at the suggestion, the poser that Auxil held up in his hands was minuscule! It was flex cut in front but in back it was cut almost like a thong, what fabric was back there would be almost definitely swallowed up by Eero's massive glutes. But there was something about it that captivated Eero, the material. It glistened like liquid metal under the light, like someone had poured mercury right over Eeros package and down his crack. Auxil could tell the beautiful silver posers had caught Eeros attention. "Come, let us try it on," Auxil led Eero over to the changing cubicle. Auxil hurried Eero into the cubicle. "Uhh, theres no lock?" Eero asked. "Don't worry comrade, i'll stand outside.” Satisfied, Eero slowly removed his jacket and slid his boots off. Eero studied the new poser in his hands for a few moments before sliding off his thong and pulling the new poser up between his thick legs. Eero was stunned by how good it felt encasing his package and nestled in his crack (apparently Auxil wasn't too concerned by hygiene when his customers tried things on). It was certainly tiny though, it cut low in the front almost revealing the base of his penis and in back it was almost invisible. Old Eero was hesitant, but the new Eero loved it! Without warning Auxil opened the door of the cubicle, "Let me take a look.” Auxil stepped in, and closed the door behind him. He kneeled down and examined the garment, making sure it fit perfectly. Eero was surprised, but trusted the man’s dedication to ensuring it was the right item for Eero. "Oh yes, it looks perfect on you," Auxil said with delight. "It's not too small?" Eero asked. "Heh, not at all," Auxil lied with a grin on his face. Auxil pulled on the straps of the garment a few times, ensuring it was sitting properly. The act of doing so making Eero's package bounce and pull the back of the poser even further up between Eero's glutes, almost rubbing against his hole. They both groaned simultaneously. Buy this point, Eero had obviously grown hard. "Yes, yes, its perfect for you comrade, as if it was made just for you," Auxil enthused. Eero had to admit, it did compliment his body magnificently. It caught the eye but didn't pull focus from the rest of his body, although plenty would be looking at Eero's tightly packed crotch now. Auxil stood up and admired Eero some more. The ex-bodybuilder was a little jealous of Eero. "What I wouldn't give to look like this again," The shopkeeper lamented, resting his hand on Eero's shoulder. "I bet you looked pretty good once," Eero complimented. "Nyet, not AS good as you though," Auxil admitted, "but things were simpler back in my day.” Auxil's hand began to wander (like every other hand that touched Eero lately), down to Eero's chest, rubbing around the generous pec-meat. Eero sighed, it was the best admiration he'd received today, so far. Eero wasn't surprised that yet another had seemingly fallen under the spell of his new pecs, they were damn sexy. Auxil was only gently feeling Eeros pecs up, "C'mon man, you can do better than that!" Eero encouraged. Auxil then started really kneading his fingers into Eeros pecs, cupping the overhang, bouncing them in his hands and pulling fiercely on Eeros big nipples. "Ohhh! Thats more like it!" Eero moaned, the other customers in the store not failing to hear. Auxil knelt down again and held the pecs in his hand for a few seconds before he really went to business. He suddenly thrust his face into the canyon between Eeros pecs, giving the young bodybuilder the motor-boating of a lifetime, followed by a very thorough tonguing. "Ahhhh, Hahaha!" Eero laughed in pleasure. Auxil was moaning like a caged animal, he was rock hard down below and on the verge of blowing his load in his shorts. Auxil then proceeded inevitably onto Eero's fat, engorged nipples, suckling and gnawing at them for as long as he could until he blew his load, which wasn't long at all. "Oh Shiiit!" he bellowed, flopping back in the corner of the cubicle, a large wet spot on his shorts. Eero leaned over the drained shopkeeper and pulled a most muscular and let out a sexy growl. It was like his sexual victory pose. Eero reached down to help the exhausted shopkeeper up, "So I take I get these free of charge?" Eero asked indecently. Auxil just nodded in defeat. Eero smiled. "Using my body to get free shit," Eero thought to himself, "I'm such a slut, I love it!” ————————————————————————————————- # ——————————————————————————————————— © Rekoobaz Hope you enjoyed this little teaser of Chapter 8! To see the full chapter and more, head on over to my Patreon page! patreon.com/rekoobaz The Intergalactic Adventures of Eero will be an ongoing series on Patreon. Chapters 1 and 2 are free to view to give you a taste. I'll be starting out with two chapters every month with more exciting content to come in the future. (I only need 10 more Patrons to reach my next goal!) If you're interested you find out more at patreon.com/rekoobaz By pledging just $1.00 per month you'll be able to enjoy this chapter and more in full at 4000+ words. Thanks, and again, feedback is appreciated!
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