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The Great Branch Warren Fan Fiction Fiasco The long-lasting chewing gum losing its flavour was Miles’ first indication that he had been thinking too long. He’d popped a piece in his mouth when he’d first logged on. Which was – what? Hours ago? The second was the message. MACROLOVER433: Well? A single word, but conveying, in its monosyllabic fashion, an intense irritation. Miles typed back: MUSCLEGODWORSHIPPER26: Sorry. I’m just thinking. MACROLOVER433: You’ve been ‘thinking’ for nearly an hour! A fact supported by the flavourless chewing gum and the tone. He spat the gum out into the bin by his bed, where it settled on the crusty corner of a cum-stained tissue, beside a browning apple core, and started to type back. The old mattress squeaked slightly beneath him. It wasn’t that he’d reached a decision. More that he wanted to move the conversation on so that he could go back to watching videos of Branch Warren flexing his huge muscles on YouTube. Which, if he thought about it for a moment, was probably why his ‘thinking’ had gone on for so long. If those freaky, vein-wreathed thighs weren’t a distraction, splitting into grotesque, sinewy, sweaty mass with every leg press, then those hideous 21-inch biceps were. Like impossible iron-hard mountains of superstrong, thickening muscledaddy brawn. MUSCLEGODWORSHIPPER26: OK. I’ll do it. MACROLOVER433: FUCK YES!! Two exclamation marks. A distinct change in tone. Miles was about to switch back to YouTube - MACROLOVER433 (real name Edward) seemed placated enough for now – when those three little dots started twitching, indicating that his partner was typing. MACROLOVER433: So how big are you going to make him? Miles was about to type ‘I’ll think about it’ (which in all probability would have brought the conversation – and the tone – back to Square #1) when Edward chimed in again: MACROLOVER433: Because you and I both know – fan fiction or not – BRANCH WARREN NEEDS TO GROW BIGGER THAN THE EARTH!!! * Miles had never written fan fiction before, though he’d had more than a few requests from members of the MG forum. He felt it was too restrictive, and preferred to create his own stories and characters from scratch. Using real people was too difficult. Sure, he knew Branch Warren’s stats: 45 years old, 5 foot 6, 245lbs, 21 inch arms, 30 inch thighs, a 34 inch waist, a 56 inch chest. He knew that the bodybuilder worked out at MetroFlex Gym in Texas. He knew that the man was a total stud, the object of his (and doubtless countless others’) muscledaddy fantasies. But he didn’t know anything about Branch’s personality. Where he lived. What he liked to do (besides working out). To convey his character properly, Miles envisioned hours of research ahead of him. He feared too that the more he found out, the harder he would find it to somehow squeeze all of his fantasies into the picture. Edward – or MACROLOVER433 as he went by on Discord – had insisted that this was not the case. MACROLOVER433: You can make it all up. He had typed. Then: MACROLOVER433: The entire fan fiction. No-one on the forum will care – so long as there’s plenty of growth. Miles, sceptical, had requested time to think. And research footage of Branch Warren lifting huge weights, his gargantuan, rippling mass pumping up huge and sexy as hell. And fapping. Twice. Before he had been drawn back to the conversation by the dull taste of gum and the ping of MACROLOVER433’s irritation. He could make it all up? He could do anything with the character, so long as Branch retained his greed for mass? He could ignore reality itself? This was like Fake News, only hotter. He returned to the Discord chat with one final line, something to appease Edward until the first chapter of the story was written. MUSCLEGODWORSHIPPER26: Bigger than the Earth? He smirked as his fingers tapped the keyboard. MUSCLEGODWORSHIPPER26: Heh, that’ll just be the BEGINNING! * The fan fiction was easier to type than he had imagined. He prepared the usual way: glass of wine on the bedside table, pile of pillows propped up on the bed behind him, laptop sat on the plump camel-pattern cushion on the duvet before him. Legs crossed. Blinds drawn. Bedroom door closed. Miles knew that other writers had weird rituals like this. Amis, Hemingway, Woolf. It made him feel that – in his own small way – he could count himself among their number. Though the topics he wrote about would probably have curled Hemingway’s toenails. The story started the usual way. Miles preferred gym settings as they allowed him to get straight to the good stuff: a description of the bodybuilder’s bulging musculature straining and swelling with thick mass as he pumped out rep after rep of iron. As for the catalyst for the growth, Miles chose a magic spell. Over the course of his career as a writer of muscle growth stories, he had grown fictional bodybuilders with experimental roids, with science fiction lasers, with genie wishes. Magic was his preferred method. For one thing, nobody picked apart magic in the comments section after he’d posted the story online. One commenter who viewed himself as something of a nanobot expert had written a scathing thesis on why said nanobots were an unrealistic method of growing a bodybuilder, after Miles had published a story where a bodybuilder got his hands on some and proceeded to use them to become bigger than the moon. The thesis had ended up longer than the story itself – and had almost as many likes. Since then, Miles had steered clear of nanobots, and had tried to avoid science in general. Magic was safe territory. Miles’ fingers flew over the keyboard as he wrote about a fan of Branch Warren who happened to be a wizard, who had snuck into the gym to meet his idol. Miles used adjectives such as ‘weak’, ‘frail’ and ‘puny’ to describe the wizard through Branch’s eyes as he trembled before the bodybuilder, stuttering through an explanation of the growth spell he was proposing to cast on the herculean musclebeast. Miles liked size disparity in his stories. He took a sip of wine. Branch Warren finished his set, heaved the monumental weight back on the rack with a clang, and looked down at the little man over his swollen, striated pecs, stretching the material of his muscle vest to breaking point. His thick nipples – visible through the sweat-drenched material – twitched excitedly, belying the casual, steady attitude of the hulking bodybuilder. Yes, that would do. Miles described the little man’s offer, peppering the dialogue with manly grunts from the bodybuilder. The wizard had perfected a growth spell and wanted to try it out. And – as a long-time fan of Branch Warren – he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather try it out on. Miles would definitely do the same thing in his position. Branch, of course, was greedy. Miles loved growth-hungry bodybuilders. “How big will it make me?” He asked. There was a hungry light in his dark eyes. “Er…I don’t know,” the puny wizard admitted. “I’ve never tried it before. But certainly bigger than you are now.” He shuffled a little, as though uncomfortable in his robes. Again, Miles knew that if he steered clear of specifics, it would build anticipation in his readers. MACROLOVER433 – and whoever else scrolled through this chapter on the MG forum – would be on the edge of their seats at this point, cocks in hand. Branch acquiesced. Miles described the bodybuilder’s cock – eight inches when hard, he imagined (but BOY was it going to grow SO MUCH BIGGER very soon) – throbbing deliciously with the thought of growing even more massive. The two men went into the privacy of the locker room. Miles spent a bit of time describing the smells of Branch’s muscle-sweat now that the two characters were in a smaller, more confined room, and started boning up himself. He always tried to write using as many senses as possible, to make it seem to his readers that they were actually there, experiencing this first-hand. He took a larger glug of wine, impatient to continue the story. And then then wizard cast the spell. A ripple of sinewy power spread through Branch’s clenched physique. The sheer mass of his pecs – already swollen from the workout – threatened to burst free from the bodybuilder’s paper-thin skin as the musclegod’s brawn began to thicken majestically. Within moments, his pectoral shelf had RIPPED through the flimsy material of the muscle vest, revealing the eight squeezing, thickening, symmetrical cubes of his abdominals, covered in veins. And still the bodybuilder got bigger, and BIGGER. Miles topped him off at six and a half feet. Thanks to giantdimensions.com, he could easily calculate Branch’s stats at this new height. 383lbs of muscle. Jesus. 24-inch biceps. Miles spent some time describing Branch greedily flexing both arms in a double bicep flex, admiring the steely mountains of brawn, lost in self-worship. 35-inch thighs, a 39-inch waist, a 65-inch chest. Whoa. Miles reached into his briefs and began working his cock at the thought… …and then paused. Wait, shouldn’t the spell include muscle growth, rather than just size growth? Miles released his cock, which by now was at full mast, and retyped the stats to reflect a surge in muscle growth. A big surge. 483? No - 583lbs of muscle. Fuck! It was good to keep the number odd. To Miles, it felt more realistic. Comparatively. 39-inch biceps, 51-inch thighs, a 63-inch waist…a 105-inch chest. YES! Miles was furiously tugging on his member now, whilst typing with his left hand. His laptop bounced around with the movements as he described the wizard only coming up to Branch’s magnificent pecs. Pecs that throbbed with sinewy POWER. And the cock – he couldn’t forget Branch’s cock! A swollen 13 inches of man now – holy shit – its monstrous outline, like some terrible, twitching arm, was bulging erotically in the bodybuilder’s straining gym shorts. A thick vein, throbbing excitedly, was visible through the material. “Hmmm.” Branch looked down at his grotesquely muscled form, shimmering with sweat. The deep sinews of his bronzed, thickening pecs rippled with every word. The air of the locker room was hot, and thick now with his raw scent. “Is that all?” The thumb and forefinger on Miles’ left hand just managed to hold shift + 2 to close the speech marks before he shuddered into orgasm and nearly blacked out with the force. He didn’t even have time to grab a tissue. He just came violently into his boxer briefs. * Some time later, Miles posted the chapter on the forum, with a blurb at the top in italics dedicating it to MACROLOVER433. He wasn’t one for clever titles; he thought they reeked of desperation. His cum still cooling in his squelching briefs, he gave the story a basic title: Branch Warren Growth, Chapter One. He clicked the tags for muscle growth, magic and macro. He finished the glass of wine. And then, moving his laptop to one side of the bed, chucking all bar one of the pillows on the floor along with the camel pattern cushion, he lay back, switched off the light and drifted off, the mattress creaking faintly beneath him. The ping of Discord woke him. Jesus, had he left his laptop on? He rolled over, head fuzzy, aching (despite the pillows, he had hunched over the keyboard the night before and now his whole spine felt sore) and hit the space bar. The screen swam into life. Through bleary eyes he peered at the message. Edward’s eagerness seemed to echo Branch’s in the story. MACROLOVER433: Just read your story, man. Hot AF. Is he going to grow bigger? Miles chuckled. Of course he was. Hadn’t he promised to grow Branch bigger than the Earth? Part of him wanted to go to the MG forum, to see who else had seen his story and liked it, or maybe even left a comment. But first his eye was drawn to the next tab along – YouTube. He was too drained and too sleepy to fap any more to Branch Warren’s videos, but seeing the muscleman’s huge, striated physique would be a great way to start the day. A sort of cup of coffee for the libido. Miles glanced at the clock in the corner of the screen. Shit, 11.23? He shouldn’t have stayed up so late writing; now he’d missed half the day! Ah, who was he kidding? He sat up and pulled the laptop to him. It was worth it. He took a glug from the water cannister by his bedside to get rid of the sour taste of wine lingering on his woolly tongue. Whoa, a new video? Branch hardly posted at all. Miles usually waited until he was horny with anticipation before checking out new muscle videos, but the title of the video – CRAZY GAINZZZZ – tempted him. He recognised MetroFlex gym, shot through a video phone. The camera was panning around the gym and a loud clanking sound could be heard, reverberating through the room and causing Miles to turn the volume on his laptop down. The screen seemed to shake a little with every clank. There was a roar, the sound of inhuman muscle powering impossible weights. Then the camera stopped panning and settled on a sight that made Miles sit up. Branch Warren, shirtless, was bench-pressing an obscene amount of metal. The thick iron bar bowed in the middle as the massive bodybuilder heaved the great clanking mass up for one slow, shuddering rep after another. There was so much weight on either end of the bar, the sound of the iron rattling about was palpable. The man looked HUGE. The last video Miles had seen was taken only a fortnight ago, and that Branch Warren was nowhere near as big – or as strong – as this one. His pecs rippled magnificently on his naked, bronze chest, undulating as though titanium bands were roiling beneath the surface. Without even touching himself, Miles found himself getting hard again. His cock only got harder when the big man racked the weight – causing another CLANK to shudder through the gym – and stood up. Holy crap. Was he…taller too? The man was a giant. He’d always looked big, on account of his extreme muscle mass. But now, Branch looked freaking TITANIC. He chuckled, looking down contemptuously at the camera, like he knew that his millions of fans would be getting off on his new hugeness. His monstrous pecs twitched of their own accord, like he couldn’t stop them, like they were eager, hungry for more growth. “Weighed myself at 583 pounds this morning,” his handsome face smirked. He clenched his chest, the grotesque mass thickening hideously, and pointed an arrogant finger at the screen. “Now THOSE are some fucking GAINZZZZ, ha ha!” He might have been about to say something else, but Miles clicked pause. 583lbs? Five. Hundred. And eighty. Three. On the dot. Just like his story. What the hell? Reaching into his briefs, hard as steel, perhaps harder than he had ever been in his life, Miles began to stroke his member. Maybe, he thought, his mind caught between trying to rationalise the clip he had just watched and the erotic impossibility of it all. Maybe writing fan fiction wasn’t so bad after all. And tonight he’d begin Chapter 2.