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      Help contribute, donate via PayPal or join with a monthly Patreon contribution.   01/01/17

      To help raise funds I've introduced a monthly contribution option called Pateron. This service allows you to pledge a monthly contribution plus allows me to offer you some rewards for your contribution. If you have any questions you may PM me. If you'd like to make that contribution please click on the image below:      
    • CMiller

      NEWS: Discord Server & Clubs (aka Groups) are back!   08/19/17

      Hello everyone I'm back with a couple big updates! Firstly we now have a Discord server, this is a real-time chat messaging client you can run on your phone, desktop, or anywhere. It's a pretty powerful desktop application that enables people to chat together, and with multiple channels you can find people interested in what you're interested in. If you don't already have a Discord account it's pretty easy to get one, just click the following invite link to get started: https://discord.gg/Ahzu9jC Secondly I'm proud to announce the return of Groups, it's been renamed to Clubs and is now available here: https://muscle-growth.org/clubs/. This system is entirely user generated and allows users to create groups of their own based on any subject they want. Go ahead and try it now, visit the link above to get started if you want to create or join a group!   As always thank you to all of our donators and Patreon contributors who keep the forums going! 

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Found 56 results

  1. First story - Growth, Part 1

    I have been reading stories on this site (and the old one) for many years. I'm in awe of the talented writers that post stories here. Recently, I have started writing my own stories. This is something I have been working on and have received some positive feedback. I hope you enjoy it. Growth 1 It’s been happening more and more lately. I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror or window reflection and my heart skips a beat. This used to happen only on occasion; during a particularly gruelling workout. I would see my reflection in the gym mirror and have to do a double take. These days, its happening outside the gym, when I’m not even pumped. It all started two months ago when I finally broke the 300lb barrier. I remember just staring at the scale for well over a minute. 301.5lbs it read. I finally tore myself away from the display and lumbered towards the bathroom. Instantly, my cock was rock hard. I could feel its 9” girth pressing against my gym shorts. I stopped in front of the bathroom mirror and literally ripped my tank top off. I knew anyone else in the locker room could've heard the tearing sound but I didn’t care. I contorted myself into a most muscular crab pose. My traps rose to touch my earlobes. Thick veins erupted on the surface of my tanned skin. Sweat immediately started to glisten on my hulking shoulders. Deep striations and more veins coverd their surface. My inhumanly huge biceps harden like granite as they reached their 25” maximum size. I grunted and flexed even harder. My bloated triceps exploded in perfect ripped horseshoes as my forearms tripled in size. At 20” of thick, vein covered monstrosities, they were larger than most men’s biceps. I could feel my chest filling with blood as it rose to meet my chin. Striations three inches deep appeared. Each overdeveloped fibre twitched and moved with raw power. I was growling now and my arms started to shake as I held the pose. Through the small gaps between my arms and chest I could see my ripped abs expanding in a solid powerful column. Even though I could not see it; I flared my impossibly wide back to the point where the skin felt as if it might split open. I managed to take a step back as the seams of my gym shorts started to tear. A network of veins so thick and engorged covered every visible inch. At 37” each quad fought with the other for room. Sweat ran down my quads to my calves. Even though my massive quads prevented my legs from touching at the knees there was barely an inch separating my calves. At last measure they we over 22” of pure beef. Even unflexed they were the most overdeveloped calves I had even witnessed. I had now been holding this body torturing pose for close to a minute. Sweat was pooling at my feet, my whole body was trembling and I was growling like a rabid animal. My eyes darted around my reflection as 301.5lbs ran though my head. Summoning an incomprehensible inner power I somehow flexed even harder. As I watched my already hulking frame expand even bigger I could feel huge amounts of hot cum running down my legs. I released to pose as I hit orgasm and stumbled back and slammed into the wall behind me bracing myself on the counter to stop from collapsing on the floor. I had never cum without touching myself before.
  2. Collge Stud (a furry story)

    Collge Stud (a furry story) written by Ceeb for the Sr de M. *Disclaimer: This is a furry story with humanoid animals, hope you do not mind* For a boy of his age, Maverick was well beyond his peers in a number of ways. Though only half of a year into the teen years of his life, his musculature was beyond comparison, as was his maturity - though being an Hispanic teenage boy in the throes of hormonal imbalance, he could have his moments of mischief. By and large, however, he was successful in keeping such things to a minimum. Of course, it was understandable that, with such an overly defined body, Maverick had a certain knack for exhibitionism, an irrepressible desire to show off, to flex his herculean muscles in every way possible, craving any and all attention. Whether it was heterosexual admiration or female lust, he savored the praise and awe, and it spurred him to yet greater acts of strength - a vicious cycle that would frequently bring a busy school day to a grinding halt, all so everybody could admire him. On this particular day, with his morning classes out of the way, Maverick strutted towards the gymnasium for his favorite subject - physical education. There, he was provided with the most justifiable means for putting his muscles on display, often in little more than a school-issued jock strap and gym shorts, leaving him free to expose almost the entirety of his body. As he stepped inside, he caught the attention of his fellow students at once; all eyes were on him as he made his way to the locker room, and his toothy smirk was proudly plastered to his face. Amiably enough, he waved at the other students and said "Hey there, guys," and he couldn't have gotten a better response; as he passed, the girls all swooned and giggled, some of them even saying hello back to him, but in the strangest way, he liked the way the boys responded to him, all muttering under their breath about how built he was, and how envious they were. Even the gym teacher - a fat, yet handsome Irish, ironically the most out-of-shape individual there - whispered comments of admiration under his breath. Disappearing into the locker room, he at once shed his dark, dark purple, nearly black tank top and matching shorts, then slid on his jock strap and gym shorts. In truth, he hated to wear the shorts over the jock strap - he truly had a bodybuilder's instinct, the desire to wear as little as he could and showcase his body - but as a policy of decency, he had no choice in the matter. Stepping out into the floor, the teacher blew his whistle for the attention of all the students, and they finally stopped their chattering and fooling around - though their eyes still covertly roamed Maverick's body. "Alright, ladies," the teacher smirked, clutching a long, thick rope, the brunt of which was slung over his shoulder, "the name of the game is a tug 'o war. Let's make it interesting this time, though." He nodded at Maverick, who stepped closer, a curious expression on his face. "Yeah?" asked the olive skinned boy cutely enough. "You're 'Team A', Mav," said the coach, handing one end of the rope to Maverick. "They're 'Team B'" the wolf grinned, gesturing to the entirety of the rest of the students. As they lined up and all took hold of knots on their end of the rope, Maverick braced himself against the unpolished tile of the gym floor and grinned. "What, all of them against me? That doesn't seem fair, teacher!" The burly coach chuckled and rubbed his own chin thoughtfully, glancing first at Team B, then at Maverick on lonesome Team A. "Why, Mav? Don't think you can hold your own against, uh," the teacher paused, briefly counting the dozen or so students, but be it stupidity or lack of interest, he simply finished: "at least ten other kids?" Grinning, Maverick shook his head. "Nah," he snickered, "it's not fair for any of them." For some, hubris was a bad trait, but for Maverick, it was simply a fact. When the teacher blew the whistle, Team B immediately pulled with all its' might, and despite how uncoordinated they were, to have fifteen teenagers pulling on one end of a rope was no laughing matter, but Maverick didn't even budge; not even did the mighty kid flinch. With his paws cinched tight on knots in the rope, he braced his thick legs against the floor and began to lean back, pulling all of Team B closer to him. Nobody could believe it - not even the teacher, whose jaw was practically slack, his eyes wide - but Maverick was overpowering the entire gym class. "Jeez, what the hell!?" yelped one of the boys on Team B. Another called out: "Alright, come on! Everybody pull NOW!"And at once, they pulled with all their might on the rope, fifteen lanky bodies working in unison to defeat Maverick, but he held as steady as ever, except now he was beginning to break a sweat - a challenge was a wonderful thing, however. Grunting and flexing, the mountainous bulk of Maverick's chest seemed to swell, the diamond-cut muscles engorging with oxygen-rich blood, and had he been wearing a shirt, it would have been spectacularly shredded. His arms began to bulk in much the same way; veins rose to the surface, throbbing, becoming an awe-inspiring spectacle, and with this greater musculature, he tugged upon the rope. To say he pulled hard did not do his actions justice - when Maverick exerted the true power in his arms, it was a wonder the Earth didn't move. He pulled every member of Team B forward into a stagger, and nearly a pile, but they caught themselves and managed to pull back. Soon, his grin was wider than ever before, showing off rows and rows of his hyena teeth; now he was having fun! "Come on!" he called out, pulling with but a fraction of his strength, feigning tiredness with his gestures. "I'm getting so tired, I can't keep up! Oh man, I think you guys might beat me!" he whined, but it was unconvincing with such an enormous grin spread across his face. On the call of their de facto leader, Team B again pulled as one unit, but again, Maverick held steady. As he huffed and took in yet more air, he felt his muscles bulge once more. His arms, already hard, were soon as dense as rubber car tires, their surface so tight that he felt bulletproof. To feel such impossible strength coursing through his body made him shudder; it even gave him a mighty erection that struggled against his jock strap and gym shorts, though the latter's days were numbered, for as he flexed more and more, preparing the coup de grace for Team B, his legs began to bulge as well. His young flesh tightened, bringing out the true depth and detail of his musculature, but, more importantly, as his dense muscles engorged, they stretched the limits of his gym shorts, and in short order, the fabric began to tear and shred in countless spots, finally becoming so utterly tattered that the garment fell from his hips in useless tatters - more impressive was that they were not true cloth, but flexible lycra, a material touted for its' ability to stretch. Left in nothing but his jock strap and sporting such a shameless erection, his body fast becoming coated in a sheen of sweat, Maverick felt truly ready to defeat his opponents. Grunting in exaggerated exertion, he pulled them forward, again into a stumble, though it wasn't hard - at the sight of his shorts literally shredding off of him and his nearly nude body, everybody stared with gaping mouths and wide eyes, but the jerk on the rope pulled them back into reality. Organizing them back into a fighting force was that self-imposed leader at the front of the rope, calling out to them: "Come on! We can beat him, just pull now!" And pull they did, and Maverick feigned weakness, pulling back just enough to goad them; when they truly pulled with all their might, Maverick released the rope, and they tumbled back into a heap. Maverick cackled in a classic hyena way, before finding himself involuntarily flexing and posing as he gloated. Even defeated and sore, the rest of the students couldn't help but gaze upon his body as they pulled themselves up - though one admirer in particular watched from the doorway. She was, by far, the most beautiful teacher in the school, Mrs. Andrea. A fine redhead, thirty-two years of age, she carried herself with confidence and authority, and her beauty was second only to her strict nature. To be called off by Mrs. Andrea meant a serious offense had been committed, and it was Maverick whom her crosshairs were on. "Maverick!" she snapped over the murmur of the crowd, walking closer to the handsome young hyena, her expression stern, her eyes set in stone; an expert poker face, for she had completely hidden her true intentions. "Get dressed and come with me, young man. You're in deep trouble," she warned, canting her head down, glaring at Maverick over her spectacles. Even as confident and brash as Maverick could be, not even he was immune to her terrifying glares; at once, he headed for the locker room and redressed in his usual clothes, and then followed along after Mrs. Andrea. To see him marching behind her seemed to be something of a dead man walking spectacle; every student in the gym, and even the teacher, stood in rapt attention and silence until she was well out of the gymnasium and down the hall. Maverick dared not ask what his crime was, under the teenage assumption that he probably didn't want to know. She led Maverick into her classroom - history, a subject he rather enjoyed, but that class was over for the day - and shut the door, then locked it behind her, and even closed the blinds. Uh oh, Maverick thought, gulping, I must've really screwed up! "Well, young man," said Mrs. Andrea, her tone not one iota softer, "I saw what you did in the gymnasium. All of that grandstanding and gloating, hmph! You really are a sore winner, aren't you?" Maverick could only blush at this reprimand, and he fidgeted with his hands, choosing to look down at them rather than up into Mrs. Andreas' eyes. "I'm going to have a word with that gym teacher about promoting such behavior, but as for you," she continued, keeping him on edge, though she took the moment he spent looking down to unbutton her shirt, leaving exposed a truly tantalizing amount of cleavage, and just a hint of her lacy, red bra, "look me in the eyes, Maverick." With the command issued in such a cold way, Maverick looked up expecting to see the devil in her eyes, but his gaze first caught sight of her newly-exposed bosom, and he briefly wondered if he simply hadn't noticed before. Subtly, he licked his lips, then looked up into her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Andrea," he said in the smallest voice possible - the woman tutted and reached out, clutching his baseball cap - worn backwards on his head - which she then removed and set aside. "Maverick, your actions have consequences" said Mrs. Andrea, her voice a little bit softer. The stud boy started to involuntarily agree, hoping to tell her what she wanted to hear, but she gave him no room to finish. "Take what you just did, for instance. I saw you sweating and grunting, flexing your muscles like that, and you know what the consequences are for that? Hm?" Slowly, Maverick shook his head, thinking that the worst was to come; in a way, his fear was justified. "The consequence is that you have to fuck me now, Maverick." Really, he didn't realize just what she'd said to him - he tilted his head like some confused puppy, his face drawn into less of a fearful expression and more of an adorably curious one, and for once, Mrs. Andrea smiled. "You heard me right. Seeing such a display from a handsome young man like you, well, I just can't resist that, now can I?" She winked for Maverick, then undid a few more buttons on her blouse, offering more of her brassiere-clad breasts to him. Slowly regaining his hyena smirk, Maverick immediately set his hands on her hips and nuzzled into her cleavage, and she kissed him between the eyes. "Talk about awesome," Maverick grinned, blushing too, resting his face in her cleavage, "I'm gonna get some from the hottest teacher in school." Answering his grin with a smirk, Mrs. Andrea put her hands upon his shoulders and let them slowly roam down his arms, absently tracing his musculature and veins, and this touch saw her moan deepen. "So built, so handsome, but still so youthful," she cooed to him, soon harboring a blush of her own. "Yeah, I guess I am," Maverick chuckled, gently pulling away from the teacher, his grin losing its' toothiness, becoming more of a curt smile. With an inarticulate growl welling up in his chest, Maverick began to flex and pose, twisting his torso, at the same moment slowly curling his arms around and down, his clenched fists nearly meeting before his pelvis. "Mmn, I just love it!" he rumbled, fluidly shifting from one pose to the next, letting his arms drift behind him. As he arched his back, he flexed yet again behind himself, but this was accompanied by a slow, steady rrrrriiiiip! as the material of his muscle shirt gave way, soon leaving him bare from the waist up in all his over-developed, sweaty glory. Mrs. Andrea felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of Maverick's bodybuilder antics; under her dress and panties, she knew the sight of the young stud was making her wet beyond description, something she was dying to have him tend to, but she felt a need to kiss and lick and touch that beautiful body, a desire that she couldn't deny. "Ooh, Maverick," she cooed, blushing hotly, unbuttoning what was left of her blouse to expose her bra and swollen breasts to him, "I simply have to touch you, please..." The way she whined, it became clear to Maverick, even as lost in his own body as he was, that there would be no reasoning with such an aroused woman - not that he had any desire to turn her down. "You can touch all you want, teach," he said, flashing her a quick grin and a wink, briefly standing before her without flexing or pumping, but even at an idle, his muscles twitched, their surface not unlike a liquid, never truly still, but harder than cement. Just as before, getting the opportunity to flex and exhibit himself left him with a swollen erection, one that struggled against the denim of his shorts, but, much like Mrs. Andrea's dripping, wet pussy, Maverick didn't want to attend to his need just yet. "You're a very good student, Maverick," whispered Mrs. Andrea, kneeling before the hyena, leaving her face somewhere around his chest. Leaning close, she chained kisses and soft laps along the canyon-like creases between his muscles, tracing them and teasing them all at once. Her fingers couldn't choose what they wanted to touch first, and so they indiscriminately touched whatever was closest - no valley of flesh or sinew of muscle was safe from her molestation, and it served to make Maverick groan, his colossal chest rumbling with simply raw sexuality and domination. The more she nuzzled into his idle muscles and touched them, the more wet she became, and the greater her musk polluted the air. Though Maverick had yet to develop a scent of his own, the stench of sweat and testosterone hung on him in a fine cloud of body odor, but this was easily overpowered by the adult scent of the lady's cunt. Maverick was stricken by the musk and it made his head swim, filling him with desires and wants that his pubescent mind could barely comprehend, but his throbbing, pre-oozing penis certainly knew what was coming. Overtaken by Mrs. Andrea's pheromones, left helplessly aroused, Maverick did what came naturally to him; another thirteen-year-old boy probably would've begun masturbating, but not Maverick. Again, he began to pose, this time with greater vigor than ever before. That rumbling in his chest became greater and greater, and Mrs. Andrea could only whimper as the boy began to grow with impossible bulk, his muscles engorging with oxygen-rich blood. Grunting in exertion, the handsome young stud curved his arms upwards in the iconic pose, showcasing the biceps of both arms, and as he punched into the apex of it, he cackled "Boom!" to both the teacher and to himself. "Rrh, look at 'em!" he cried in triumph, "if they got any bigger, they'd be snowcapped!" So high and pronounced were Maverick's biceps that his ears were centimeters beneath them, and Mrs. Andrea simply couldn't keep her hands off of him; clutching both biceps in her trembling fingers, unable to come even close to closing her fingers around their bulk, she pressed her lips against Maverick's in a shallow kiss, but the sensation of arousal in her cunt, that instinctive need to breed, bordered on discomfort. In the midst of Maverick's unlikely musculature and victorious pose, Mrs. Andrea could take no more. She needed the kid's flesh; no matter the cost, be it her marriage, her career, or even her life, she needed to have such a powerful creature's seed inside of her. Unbuttoning his shorts as quickly as she could, Mrs. Andrea slid down that garment and the underwear beneath, leaving Maverick in his favorite outfit of all - bare skin. So turgid was his erection that it rivaled his muscles in density, and every throb saw a wad of thick precum squirt from its' tip. At once, she engulfed it in her mouth, gulping and swallowing on the swollen flesh, swallowing down the voluminous precum that shot from the tip. Though Maverick was not of age to bear any musk yet, the simple flavor of his sweaty flesh and the smell of his body after exerting so much force saw her head swim, and she practically swooned. She was enjoying that blowjob almost as much as Maverick, for he had given up his flexing to rest his hands on the back of her head. He gasped and shuddered, his muscles again tense, not intentionally, but from pleasure. Mrs. Andrea was certainly skilled with her muzzle, for she bobbed and gulped on the impressive length of Maverick's penis, dragging her tongue along its' surface, teasing him as well as pleasing him. And, one more treat, she reached up with her soft, yet skilled hands, resting one upon his pelvis, clutching the throbbing bulk of his scrotum with the other, gently squeezing down with that loving mitt. "Ooh, teacher," he groaned, soon gritting his teeth afterwards, grimacing down at her sultry, seductive eyes. "I'm gonna, ah!" he grunted, soon finding himself bearing down for a climax, but Mrs. Andrea didn't want to taste the stud's jism - pulling back, she graced the tip of his pulsating cock with a gentle kiss, then unceremoneously laid back, lifted her skirt, and tugged her panties down, half-heartedly kicking them off, for they still hung around one ankle. "Take me, Maverick," she purred, reaching down again to spread her folds for him, offering her inviting pink warmth to the teenager. Maverick didn't need to be told twice - grinning again, he swiftly mounted his new favorite teacher and plowed his mighty cock into her, gasping at the sensation of her humid, hot flesh gripping the needy length of his shaft. For Mrs. Andrea, her gasp and yowl was fueled not only by raw passion and lust, but also the simple, carnal pleasure of having her walls stretched out by such a thick member - Maverick was gifted in more ways than one. Planting his hands on either side of the teacher, Maverick began briskly pumping her, making up for a lack of refined skill with simple roughness and physical endowment. For Mrs. Andrea, to feel not only the boy's thick member but also his swollen, pulsating abs against her prostrate body was more than enough of a treat, and the way she called out to him with any number of animalistic cries told him he was doing it right. "Oh, Maverick!" she whimpered to him, rubbing the back of his head, scritching behind his ears with her manicured finger nails, "you're such a fine stud! You're more of a man than my husband is!" Maverick could only grin more at the notion, but he said nothing - though he was a lot of things, stupid wasn't one of them. "I'm everything that is man," he snickered, "except the beard", nuzzling down into her chest, which of course jiggled and bounced with his pelvic thrusts, but not too impressively in the grip of her bra. Biting down on the fabric, loosening a few strands of her fur with it, he put his mighty jaws to use and simply ripped the garment off of her, freeing her bosom for him to ogle. "You're so hot, Mrs. Andrea," he gasped, rubbing his nose into her cleavage, his hips still pounding against her own harder and harder, drawing out many impassioned yowls and squeals from her. She was too far-gone to respond, but to Maverick, her cries were as good as any coherent praise. To get to fuck the hottest teacher in the school was a dream come true for any teenager, not just Maverick, but Mrs. Andrea wouldn't have considered any other boy. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, she whimpered and nearly sobbed, the warm confines of her pussy soon spasming around his erection, and she erupted with a mighty climax, one that saw the entirety of his shaft and even his balls soaked with female juices. "Oh, Maverick, Maverick!!" she cried in true erotic bliss, squeezing tightly upon his neck, but it was of no worry to him. "Is it good for you, Mrs. Andrea?" he whispered, licking along her demure neck with surprising romanticism, but his hips were a direct contrast to that, fucking her harder and harder, his pelvis colliding with her own with such force that she was bruised, but she couldn't have cared any less about her discomfort. "Oh, yes!" she nearly screamed, blushing. "God, yes," Mrs. Andrea then whispered, kissing between Maverick's ears. "Good," said the hyena, soon feeling a familiar tingle in his own loins, the onset of an orgasm the likes of which that woman had never experienced before. "H-here it is...! I'm gonna cum!" Maverick gasped, involuntarily grinning and clenching his eyes shut as he bucked into her once more and erupted, spilling rope after rope of his semen into her, his seed filling her womb and then some, leaving her with such a bulge that it appeared Maverick had blessed her with a new life, and around her stomach, the dress she still wore quickly reached its' capacity and shredded, much like the hyena's shirt had. Mrs. Andrea cried out as she was so thoroughly filled, mentally likening his enormous climax to having a fire hose turned loose inside of her stretching flesh, but the loving warmth of his seed made her purr and coo his praises in afterglow. A creature of lesser endurance would have stopped and enjoyed their climax, but endurance was something Maverick had in excess. Through his afterglow and the nearly overwhelming tingling of pleasure in his loins, he hunkered down over the beautiful teacher and at once resumed his ferocious fucking, his hips again meeting hers in sharp, quick thrusts. His member was so thick that it allowed not a drop of his semen to escape from the Andrea's pussy, and it was that unusually pleasant pressure that made her cry out yet more, by then beyond coherent words, instead yowling to the handsome teenager with animalistic cries and squeals. Whenever Maverick took time to jerk himself off, it tended to take the better part of an afternoon; again and again, he'd climax into his own paws, and the messes he made of himself and his surroundings were legendary - in truth, he was morbidly curious to see how well Mrs. Andrea would handle two or three more of his mighty loads. "Ooh, Maverick," whimpered Mrs. Andrea, her hands sliding down the hyena's body, coming to rest near his pistoning hips. She softly raked over his young flesh and whatever clusters of muscle she could find, tickling the skin that was pulled tight over his musculature. "Yeah!" Maverick gasped, gritting his teeth afterwards, pumping the teacher without mercy or care, interested only in his own satisfaction - and in seeing her bear the entirety of his fertility. "Get ready," the stud boy grunted, bearing down tight over her for a second time, his steel-hard washboard slightly compressing the bulge of her womb, putting a painful pressure on her that caused her to whimper and groan to him for what was not the first or last time that afternoon. With a tremor of a shudder crawling through his body, Maverick groaned in true exertion and came for a second time, his hilted, throbbing penis depositing a load that yet further bloated the fine woman's figure, forcing him up and off of her as that belly bump grew. Kneeling between Mrs. Andrea's legs, his cock still stiffened and ready for another round, the apex of her stomach had reached his shoulders in height, and the spectacle of it saw another naughty grin spread across his handsome face. Already, the pressure of his incredibly voluminous, hot loads saw her flesh pulled taut, but she cried out and shuddered to him, her cheeks lit with a blush so hot it was visible clearly beneath the makeup. Maverick had thought to stop for fear of bursting her, but Mrs. Andrea begged him for more. "Maverick, ooh," she cooed, unable to look him in the eyes for the bulk of her stomach, "once more, dear, please," whined the oblivious teacher. Licking his lips before returning to a grin, he chuckled and ran his hands down the side of her bulging belly. "Aw, you know, since I always do what you ask, the other kids call me a teacher's pet," he fakely whined, leaning down to nuzzle and kiss the top of her shivering, drum-tight stomach. "But I guess I'll do it..." After two incredible orgasms in such a short period of time, Maverick had begun to feel a little bit tired - defeating the entire gym class by himself may have had something to do with that, too - but he still had so much power in his body that a little fatigue was nothing to him. Taking a deep, calming breath, he rested his paws upon either side of Mrs. Andrea's belly, and he started to mate her for a third and final time. As soon as he resumed sliding his swollen, throbbing meat in and out of her cunt, she again cried out and yowled to Maverick, though her vocalizations and gestures seemed lazy and tired, perhaps an effect of having such a heavy load pressing down on her, but it was a weight she was sexually delighted to feel. "You're so tight," Maverick growled, his eyes clenched shut, his spine arched, his head canted back in a position that suggested great pleasure and, overall, sexual contentment. "And hot, too, it's like an oven inside of you," he chuckled, the sound coming across as bashful in a cute teenager sort of way, but he spoke only the truth - the heat and humidity of that beautiful female's cunt was something he was reluctant to have to eventually leave. "And you're so big, Maverick," Mrs. Andrea whimpered to him, reaching up to clutch her breasts, squeezing and groping upon her tender flesh, savoring the pleasure it brought her. The female felt a second climax of her own fast approaching, but it was unlike anything she'd ever known. Not only was Maverick well-endowed, but his unbelievable loads had left her full and content beyond words - and besides that, there was the simple taboo of fucking one of her students. "Mmh, god! Maverick, I'm going to cum again!" she cried to him, her voice nearly a sob. For the second time that afternoon, Maverick felt the cheetah's hot, writhing walls squeeze down on his penis in a tight, loving grip, and again came the sticky warmth of her juices that ran down his member and warmed his loins. Feeling those sensations and acknowledging her overwhelming pleasure left Maverick wanting to please her more and more, to give her one more load and fill her up in ways no other man - or teenage boy - ever had before. Though his second climax had been so recent, it suddenly mattered not to Maverick, who began pumping and pounding her with all his inhuman strength, his hips colliding into hers with such force that he thought he might break her pelvis - he certainly left her with nasty bruises. No longer caring if someone might hear her, Mrs. Andrea freely yowled and whimpered and sobbed and cried to Maverick, begging both verbally and animalistically for his last load, to feel the impossible pressure and heat of his seed. She didn't care if that load would be the last she'd ever feel, if she might burst like a balloon - it would've been a death worth dying, for all she wanted was Maverick one more time. "C-cum for me, Maverick! Please!" she gasped, relinquishing her breasts to scrape her fingers against the tile of the floor. Gnashing his teeth tightly together, Maverick stared through squinted eyes at the jiggling bulk of the teacher's stomach, and further down, the arousing spectacle of his mighty, black member disappearing into the pink warmth of her pussy over and over. "Nngh, yeah...!" gasped he, clutching the woman's hips in his iron grip, his pace becoming yet more frantic as the onset of a third climax came to him. "Y-yes, yes!" Maverick snarled through his teeth, depositing a final load into the her, giving her exactly what she wanted. Before his eyes, she swelled to dangerous proportions, her once flat, shapely stomach passing his head and then some in height with a loud groan and stretch marks appearing all over. For many moments, the teacher and the student panted in the aftermath of the fuck. Mrs. Andrea was dazed, but hopelessly aroused, and Maverick was finally rendered flaccid and satisfied. Slipping free of her cunt, he expected his member to be chased by a torrent of his seed, but no such mess came - there was something to be said for Andrea's tight pussy. "Mmn," she moaned, "come over here, Maverick..." Her voice was far-off, so dulled by pleasure, but Maverick obeyed. As he stood, he came to realize her stomach was nearly his own height - it came to his neck and shoulders, its' surface so tight that he could've traced the veins if he wanted to, their appearance clear under the flesh. The hyena walked slowly around Mrs. Andrea and admired her stomach from many angles before finally kneeling down beside her, his flaccid, dripping penis near her muzzle. Blushing and smiling, she gently dragged her tongue over the blunt tip of his shaft, then nuzzled into the warmth of his scrotum, letting his messy cock drape over her face. "You were so wonderful, Maverick," Andrea said with a lazy moan, reaching up to stroke his hip. "Heh," he chuckled, reaching out to caress and rub the dangerously tight flesh. In a moment of curiosity, he pushed down with his palms, and bore witness to the sight of a torrent of his spent semen gushing from her well-loved cunt, spreading out across the tile in a thick mess. The sight of it brought a lewd grin to his lips, and he glanced down at Mrs. Andrea's crimson-blushing face. "I'd love to go again, but, um," he chuckled, kissing against her stomach, "I really don't think you'd survive another load or two, Mrs. Andreas." His tone was so sweet and gentle, like a well-mannered young man, but she continued to lick and kiss intently upon his shaft. Though he firmly believed in what he'd just said, Maverick's shaft began swelling up again...
  3. The Labours of Hugh

    The Labours of Hugh By Chip Masterson For the Seigneur de M. “My God, what is that beast?” My master and I stood in awe as we watched a lone man carry an entire butt of beer on his back and gently drop it in place. You could hear it slosh - a thousand pounds of beer carried as lightly as a side of beef! But what looked like a man – or the absolute ideal of what a man could be – had the face of boy no older than I. His downy face looked untouched by a razor, yet the width of his shoulders rivaled every champion assembled here, with helmet-sized shoulders and chest muscles as thick as a man’s torso. His bare arms dwarfed my skinny legs, yet his waist, carved into grooves like a cathedral column, was flatter than mine. His legs were covered with several boar-hides stitched together, and with calves pushing them up like a giant’s fists. As he turned to leave, I could see he was so thick from the front edge of his chest to the highest peaks on his back, that if I were to stand with my back against his arm, his torso breadth would my shoulder-width. That back! A dozen crevices zigzagged among the humped cobbles and stony plateaus, undulating and transforming like a landscape in a dream. I pinched myself – I was awake. My master, Sir Alain, a knight of the royal court, had come to Chateaulin bearing the king’s congratulations to Count Houel on the birth of his second son. The Count was throwing a birth festival before hosting the folkmoot, and my master had entered the lists. He was speaking with the Marshal of the castle, Sir Geoff. Sir Geoff looked amused by our gawking. “That’s Hugh, one of my boys,” Sir Geoff explained. “He’s about the age of your boy here.” “Impossible!” Sir Alain sputtered. “I’ve seen quarry workers who couldn’t rival him for size!” “I rescued him after his parents exposed him in the woods,” Sir Geoff continued. “I soon discovered why – when he became impatient for food or cleaning, he smashed his crib to splinters with his tiny newborn fists. They feared raising a prodigy, but in some way, I felt commanded to care for him – I guessed then it was the voice of God, but now….” He paused, and changed course. “He’s very lonely – the other boys avoid him. He spends a great deal of time hunting alone in the forest.” “The Count allows a boy in the chase?” Sir Alain sustained shock after shock, and he hadn’t even mounted his steed yet. “The Count and all the farmers are grateful,” Sir Geoff explained. “Since he began entering the forest, we haven’t seen or heard a single wolf – it’s been years now. He eats like several men, and I can hardly increase his rations in front of the other boys, so he supplements his hunger with boars and other things he catches with his hands. The husbandmen even give him a portion of meat at every slaughter in thanks for his protection. It’s almost pagan,” Geoff added with a wry smile. “What a remarkable warrior he would be,” Sir Alain marveled, “if only he had a better station, and not born for the front line. Robert Guiscard could take all of Italy and drive Emperor Constantine into the arms of the Turks. But perhaps the work of a beast is a more fitting utilization of his unique – talents – after all. Providence is never wrong.” Sir Geoff looked at him sideways with his arms crossed, and said nothing. Soon we were preparing for the joust, a new form where, instead of a mass charge around the field, two knights face each other one-on-one and try not to get killed. I was nervous as a girl, though only King Philip could beat my master (though “beat” might not be a completely accurate description of what actually happened). My master was called against Sir Geoff and the knights rode out, the sunlight dancing off their shiny mail hauberks. They leveled their lances, and at the signal, charged. Almost immediately a strap on Sir Geoff’s saddle broke and he wobbled – but through his narrow visor, my master must not have noticed. Geoff couldn’t brace himself for a thrust and my master glanced a blow off his shoulder that sent Geoff spinning through the air and landing with a hearty smack. Everyone rose in silent suspense. My master had already turned about, still not realizing what had happened, not seeing see Geoff’s boys rush to his aid, . He began his parade – but a spur only jostled him in his saddle – his horse neighed but didn’t move. He kicked again but his mount’s effort to spring only resulting in it being pulled back into the air. My master dropped onto his back in the mud. Stunned, Alain looked up and saw Hugh holding his horse by the tail, fury etched into his handsome young face. “A strap broke – it wasn’t far, you should have stopped!” Hugh yelled – a shocking breach of order. My master flailed but couldn’t rise. My fellow knaves hesitated at the sight of Hugh – only I had quickly sprinted over – so Hugh cheekily slid his arm underneath my masters and effortlessly pulled him to his feet. They were the same height – maybe Hugh was my age, but he was easily a foot taller. “Apologize at once!” Hugh demanded, pressing his chest forward and making my master step awkwardly back. The audience gasped again at these unprecedented offenses, the Count himself shocked speechless. Instinctively raising his shield against Hugh’s “well-armed” aggression, Alain glared past him, glaring at a helmetless Geoff, who winced as boys removed his armor. “Sir, control your boy before his unseemly pride proves fatal!” Whether the threat irked Hugh more than being ignored, I’ll never know, but I saw Hugh’s jaw clench. In a blur, his arm sprang into the air, parallel with the ground, and punched my master’s shield in a quick, efficiently lethal motion – as if my master were livestock for slaughtering. Alain stumbled backward, sucking for air – the blow had split his shield and the horribly dented steel boss had torn the leather hide, sliced through the mail and sunk into Alain’s chest. The leather hide covering the shield trapped his strapped arms – he couldn’t breathe, and couldn’t pull it off. He fell on his knees, stunned and bleeding. The boys huddled in terror so I pleaded with Hugh, “Help him! He’s dying!” Rage melted from Hugh’s face like a passing storm and he realized with alarm what his immeasurable power had done – and to a man ostensibly his “better.” Hugh grabbed each side of the shield and wrenched them apart, shredding the hide covering and exposing the boss. He pulled that out and blood spurted against his face. He put his fingers into the mail and ripped it open like rotten cloth, pressing on the wound to staunch the flow until my fellows braved his proximity and aided our master. The doctor rushed forward, relieved that he could bind the wound without having the remove the mail shirt first. Count Houel rose imperiously and called for Geoff. I couldn’t hear what they said, but Geoff kept nodding and Houel furiously pounded his fist in his palm. Hugh stood a few feet from me with his head down. I smelled something sweet and salty I couldn’t quite place – I closed my eyes and it tickled the back of my mind. Like a memory I haven’t lived yet. I’d secretly taken the twisted and torn boss, and now surreptitiously fingered it behind my back – feeling the shape of his knuckles where they turned it inside-out, the warped edge that had torn and hurt him it should be protecting. Fortunately it missed his heart and lungs – but it’s the kind of scar you want from battle – not from a boy’s fist. Geoff went to Alain first, confirming the punishment, then came over and placed his hand on Hugh’s shoulder. His hand rose and fell like a rowboat at sea as Hugh breathed. Hugh nodded and walked around the center rail. A riffle disturbed the female stands, back and forth like a cauldron being stirred. Two big yoked draft horses were brought out and I understood what Hugh faced. I dropped to my knee beside my master and said, “Please, my lord, please spare his life! I’m sure he can be reformed! I believe he can do anything, anything he sets his mind to.” Alain patted my arm. “We’re only frightening him with what will happen if he doesn’t learn his place. The ostlers won’t let him get hurt. Too badly.” As I helped him into chair, I heard Hugh say, “What about my other arm?” My balls tingled. I shifted from foot to foot as a strange irritation grew in my groin. Two more horses were brought up from the stable. Hugh stuck out his arms, releasing feral tangles of reddish-gold curls sprouting beneath them and spraying a mist of sweat. With ropes, the ostlers lashed Hugh’s wrists to the yokes. Then, to guarantee the horses wouldn’t bolt and kill him, their bridles were lashed to the corners of the court, with enough slack that they could apply a torturous pressure that would remind Hugh of his place in the future. The horses fidgeted nervously, nostrils flaring and hooves kneading the dirt. Houel made an angry speech about honor and respect, but sensing a universal impatience, yielded Alain the field. Alain lifted his hand, and dropped it wearily. The ostlers promptly goaded the horses forward. The ropes leading from Hugh’s wrists twisted, but so did the ropes between his wrists and shoulders – his arms that almost dwarfed the haunches of the horses themselves. Each horse took several steps before its hooves slid against the dirt. Alain nodded again and the ostlers urged the horses harder – but the beasts could only lean into their bridles until the effort made them shake. Hugh stared at a point in the sky, his torso rising and falling, his legs planted like oaks. The stable boys urged the horses forward, but their legs could only dig grooves in the ground. Hugh turned his arms slightly, aligning his heaped shoulders with the winglike flare of his back, and refused to move. A sheen of sweat dappled the burnished golden down covering him, and I caught that sweet, wild scent stirring me – though there was no breeze. I realized it came from under Hugh’s arms. The horses smelled something different – their nostrils flared and with a single shriek, they bolted – or rather, attempted it. Hugh panicked at the sound and tensed his arms – two horses stumbled onto their forelegs. Hugh bolted them all in place. His hands gripped the ropes with white knuckles and his unexpected restraint multiplied panic into terror. The horses threw themselves against the ropes, bucking and springing, but only rising straight up instead of forward. The teams danced side to side, seeking any advantage over the terrible weight that pinned them down – and Hugh, squinting, jerked the ropes tight and stopped their dancing. Hugh pulled his shoulder blades together, his flesh humping and squeezing together. This dragged the horses backwards, and they screamed and stamped the ground in fear and fury. Hugh bent his elbows, tightening his arm muscles, and sixteen hooves skidded toward him half a metre. His hands twisted and he gripped the rope farther along, pulling it toward him as his swollen arms turned purple with veins. Though only half-bent, the meat of his forearms pressed against his bulbous upper arms. The horses’ eyes rolled with panic, their mouths frothing and chomping their bits. Hugh closed his eyes and, swaying side to side as he absorbed the animals’ combined efforts, raised his fists higher and brought them closer together. The reins to the court posts tautened and, as the audience gawped in amazement, the horses themselves rose off the ground and floundered, writhing helplessly in mid-air. Hugh twisted the rope again and drew more into his relentless fingers, his chest rippling with dents and ridges as he fought to bring his fists together, lungs heaving. The animals twisted as they stretched between the posts and Hugh, their shrieks strangled by the pressure into hoarse gasps of desperation. Urine and shit poured out of each animal as Hugh’s inexorable hands reached for each other. A shocking crack of splitting timbers shook the stands as the posts gave way – but not enough. A groan like stretching leather was followed with a horribly wet FWWWWUMMMPPPPP! Hugh’s fists knocked against each other – because his arms had ripped four horses apart, spewing blood and gore over his rounded masses and into the crowd. The torn torsos flew towards him and clumped into the dirt while the head-half rebounded into stands. Some people screamed and ran but some couldn’t move, shaking or trembling. Flushed with victory, Hugh smiled broadly and quickly shredded his rope. He opened his eyes and saw with disbelief what carnage his arms had wrought. His skin glowing and his entire body heaved for air, a weird pride surmounting the grotesquerie. Young maidens surged from the stands, yammering and gazing devotedly at him. Pleased (and a little stunned), he flexed his arms and the girls caught their breath – a couple swooned. The bush-covered, deep round pocket that sank between his back and chest and smelled warm and inviting. One bold lass reached out to touch him, giggling, her fingers flying back as if burned. “It’s okay,” Hugh said. “I can make it bigger.” Hugh began pumping his arms, and muscles still swollen from the struggle turned from red to violet, with blue veins snaking under the skin. Each pump expanded his arms got bigger, until their round shape changed and a second peaked cap rose above the bulk. The maidens were all modestly attired – not a bosom in sight – and yet his presence, his heat, his scent compelled their hands to reach for him, regardless of propriety. Several of the girls swarmed around him, their fingers exploring his physique as they might a statue of Hercules. With a huge smile, Hugh dropped his arms and thrust out his chest, letting them uselessly poke their fingers into its obdurate surface, feel its edges and contours. I could see it dawning on their astonished faces how Hugh’s living flesh mocked the so-called armor of the knights. As their fingertips traced the arabesque of ridges in his back, I could also see a single pulse along one leg of his trousers. Hugh’s own eyes now brightened as the fawning girls sparked pleasure in his man-parts, which in turn shadowed his handsome face with anxiety. Despite his advance development, I guessed he’d always used his arms and legs as tools, never experienced a rush of triumphant potency flooding his limbs, then reaching beyond them and enthralling the opposite sex. The girls’ desire sparked lightning which flowed through his muscles to his manhood, forever fusing sexual arousal with displaying his body and exerting his strength. As if he were entirely a living erection. A savage bellow erupted from suddenly jostling shrubbery and in a cloud of dust, a massive bull appeared, its nose bloody where it ripped away from its ring. The girls shrieked and fled, many simply crouching behind Hugh. The bull faced Hugh and pawed the ground, challenging him. I heard my master say, “There’s something in Hugh’s sweat that disturbs stallions and bulls alike. It maddened those horses, and now our bull senses his dominance threatened.” Before anyone could move, the bull lowered its broad head and charged, lance-sharp horns swinging wildly. Hugh growled back and actually ran at the bull, bulging arms cocked and ready to spring. They met in a thunderclap of bone striking bone-hard muscle as Hugh slammed his chest against the bull’s skull. Each animal bounced back from the impact, the bull staggering with its tongue out. Hugh recovered first and grabbed the horns low. Digging his mighty legs into the soft earth, he shoved the bull’s skidding hooves back, away from the stands. But the bull seemed locked on his enemy – it swung and shook its huge head – or attempted to. Hugh grunted and rocked sideways; his shoulders turning ominously toward the beast, each like a head sprouting a thicker horn. The bull bucked his head until Hugh slowly, steadily, unmercifully slowed it into immobility. The bull pulled back and twisted its thick neck the other way – but Hugh twisted his wrists and raised his elbows, checking its progress and holding it tight. With a strained groan, Hugh forced the shuddering head back up. The bull tried to toss Hugh up into the air but Hugh’s grip held it like tar. With a war cry, Hugh exploded and slammed the bull’s head down against the ground. Angered, stunned, the bull leaped forward – but didn’t get far. Hugh’s shoulders sank back, soaking up the bull’s strength and then driving it back out against the animal with greater force. In quick bursts Hugh thrust the bull back; its set hooves trenched the earth which could not withstand Hugh’s power. Trapped in superior hands – Hugh utterly controlled the head, defying the animal’s every twitch – the animal’s eyes rolled and its bellows rose in broken cries of disbelief. The crowd cheered to see this boy-man tame a bull bare-handed – so Hugh grinned and raised one fist into the air … and contained the bestial violence with one hand! The crowd’s deafening praise drowned out the bull’s chest-rumbling fury, its rippling shoulder and haunches quivering, shaking – impotent. Squealing with rage, the bull jabbed its free horn a few centimetres at Hugh. The boy brought his free fist down on the bull’s head. A crack like lightning splitting a tree shocked everyone to silence. Hugh struck the bull again, his knuckles smacking into the densest part between the horns. The bull’s knees buckled and drool looped out of its mouth. One more THWOKKK and the bull dropped flat. Shaking out his hand while the crowd cheered, Hugh walked around and stuck his arms under the bull’s belly. In one swift move he lifted the enormous beast up against his chest … and then his arms pressed it up over his head. He dropped it once against his own stony shoulders and the bull guttered an exhausted wheeze. He lifted the pull again and repeated the drop, the impact making the bull’s head loll. Finally Hugh lifted the bull over his head and carried it around the arena, giving everyone a close look before he SLAMMED it against the ground, its legs splayed out like petals. The impact clattered weapons in their racks, and some of the ladies lost their balance. The bull lay perfectly still so Hugh slapped its face several times to see if he had killed it with one fist. The bull opened its eyes, saw Hugh, licked Hugh’s hand and rolled over on its back, its enormous male-part exposed, red and glistening. Hugh held both hands over his head again like a champ. Under the crowd’s cheers I heard my master mutter, “That bull will never stud again.” “Young knave,” announced Houel once ordered was restored, “God and Fortune have placed you in the lowest estate, in which your earlier offenses to Sir Alain are unpardonable. And yet your manly vigor and dauntless courage indicate a nobler origin, one in which your outburst would not only be unexceptional, but possibly demanded as a point of honor. With your parentage unknown, we may never know the truth – except through your honorable and obedient actions henceforth. I bid you to mind your tongue and temper, obey my vassal Sir Geoff in all things, and your God-thewn limbs may one day raise you to an estate commensurate with your valor.” The Count then turned to the events planned for after noon dinner, but my eyes were drawn to his left arm, which had disappeared behind his back. It appeared to be rhythmically twisting back and forth – or rather, in and out – as he spoke of Hugh. I doubt anyone else noticed – all eyes remained on the smiling hero, his cowed bull; Hugh’s innocent freckles belied a ferocity lurking underneath. I had to see to my master’s horse. Hugh led me to the stable, saying eagerly, “You need to clean the hooves, right?” he asked me. Before I could so much as unstrap the saddle, Hugh ducked underneath the stallion and lifted him over his head – this after so many exertions already! The horse panicked at first, but Hugh’s deep voice and commanding presence calmed it – I even saw the head of its maleness peeking out, as with the bull. My own trousers felt heavy and tight and I stood riveted before the column of living power before me. “Well, go on!” he said. “I’m hungry!” I grabbed a pick and indulged in cleaning each hoof without bending over – I barely had to move the stallion’s legs. When I indicated I was done – I had no voice – Hugh gently put the horse down and deftly unbuckled the tack, which he effortlessly carried, saddle in one hand and all the dressings in the other, to a bench and rack against the wall. When he came back, he asked if he could brush the animal instead. “I didn’t like hurting those horses before, or the bull,” he said sheepishly. “Something just came over me I can’t put into words – like when I’m hunting. I’m usually gentle here.” He wielded the brush like a pro, the stallion responding with shivers and affectionate nudges – one animal acknowledging the superior protection and care of another. I marveled, not for the first time, how some animals sense danger in his aroma, while others are soothed … and aroused. Hugh ate separately from the other boys, who swarmed around the young squire. The noble boy kept looking at Hugh with jealousy, but managed to captivate the other boys with tales of court love affairs and adventures. Only one boy looked our way … and he too looked jealous when he caught my eye. Hugh finished his portion of stew before I had barely begun, and fetched a bag full of preserved meats from his stash. The rough burlap had his name crudely embroidered on it, and while I finished my plate, the boy-man devoured several hunks of dried meat, teeth ripping the hard flesh apart with animal hunger. The morning’s excitement, and being both full and so near Hugh’s humid heat, made me long for a nap. But Hugh jumped up and dragged me with an iron grip out to watch the afternoon events. When prizes were awarded, everyone looked at Hugh as if they knew he deserved not only the top prize, but the whole array of jewelry. The winners too seemed abashed, even my master, who came in third overall and got a beautiful golden torque with three emeralds. I noted that, though decorative, it could fit his neck – but not Hugh’s. I had to attend my master at dinner and eat with the other boys, but when we were dismissed, I left them and went back to the stable. He brightened like dawn when he saw me – his new friend – and we went outside and sat on a stone in the cool evening. Without a word, he draped his heavy arm around my shoulders and I stiffened to support its weight. After watching the stars come out in companionable silence, he yawned like a lion and guided me to his lonely straw pallet, away from the boys on the other side of the animal stalls. Hugh dropped his trousers pulled off his loin cloth, sniffed it, nodded and put it back on. His virile member swung away like a pendulum – but most remarkably, it was utterly smooth. I had thought, given the maturity of his armpits, that he’d be woolly below as well – but that growth had not yet started, it seemed, no more than his beard. How poised between two worlds he seemed, striding them both like the Colossus of Rhodes. Unexpectedly, I felt fear sleeping next to a creature so powerful and, worried he might crush me in his sleep (or in a bear-hugging dream), I curled into a tight ball on the edge of the mat. The night turned frigid and a howling wind whipped around the stable. But Hugh burned like a fully-stoked furnace, his pale skin radiant. I heard him say, “Are you afraid of me too?” I rolled over and, shivering, told him, “I didn’t think I was, but suddenly I felt very tiny.” He looked hurt and said, “I never hurt little creatures. That would be terrible. I don’t even step on worms after it rains.” He extended his arm and I wormed closer, his heat like a heavy woolen blanket embracing me. My head was smaller than the pillow of his arm, not stony at all but firm and, in some way, compelling and safe. He saw the arch in my loincloth and looked around excitedly – “Did girls sneak in?” When he realized we were alone, he sighed and said, “Oh, you’re like Ralph. Ralph was my friend until the others turned him against me.” “Nothing could ever turn me against you!” I blurted out. “I would pledge myself to you as your vassal forever, here and now, if you could take me.” He giggled at the ridiculous thought but nestled happily against me. “You can touch them, if you want,” he said quietly. “I never used to like it when Ralph did it, but today it felt different – all those girls’ hands. I don’t know what I felt. I sure liked it though.” “You’ve never been with a girl?” I asked in amazement, assuming he’d plowed wide and deep. He shook his head. “My master told me the story of Samson, but the truth was, his hair was a symbol of the other thing that grows out of a man. And when he lay with Delilah, she took his essence – so he became weak, her weak slave.” I realized Geoff must have been afraid of what Hugh’s youthful exuberance might do to a tender girl – or grown woman, or sheep or cow. I said nothing and placed my hand on his belly, which ran beneath my fingers like hot bricks on a cooking hearth. I explored the heavy bulk beneath his smooth skin, not clench into stones but full of rumbling threat, rising and falling with his breath. It felt like a city street brought to life, the cobbles able to yield or harden at will. My hand crept up to where his chest rose up like an escarpment – though he lay flat on his back! – and spread like wings to either side. I could barely reach over his chest and rub the solid mound of his shoulder, and stroke the junction where his chest and arm came together like the stanchion of a rope bridge. He raised his forearm and drew my face in his humid armpit. Though I wasn’t nearly finished exploring his manly terrain, the heat and sweet pit-fumes and soft tickling hairs overwhelmed me and I shot my seed in several fierce spurts, my whole being jerking and one foot cramping up. I don’t know if he noticed, but he didn’t let me go – I think he’d already fallen asleep. My release, after the day’s events, left me empty and I too slept in his dark musky chamber. I awoke before dawn – Hugh was already at his chores. Duke Conan would be arriving this morning to begin the folkmoot (there’s quite a queue of gripers this time around, I hear), and the great entertainments would continue, including a troupe of acrobatic Prussian dwarves said to be astounding and funny. A post rider ripped by us and headed straight into the castle. Word went around that we were to assemble, and soon Count Houel mounted the rampart along with by Sir Geoff and the seneschal, an old man, called for everyone’s attention. “My esteemed brother-in-law, Conan Duke of Bretagne,” Houel announced, “shall arrive presently – yes, yay, quiet, quiet! – and he sends ahead not only his salutations – please, quiet! – but also a demand: William, Duke of Normandy, has taken Maine - yes, an outrage! – and our lord expects Normandy shall enter our lands as well, with or without invitation. Every able-bodied man of service age is to immediately prepare for a dress inspection with what weapons and armor he is able to supply, so that we may assess the state of our defense and prepare accordingly. We shall gather again an hour before dinner ready for war and our lord’s review.” He clapped his gauntlets and hell erupted as everyone leapt pall-mall to get home and dust/shine what rusty pieces of tin may decorate their mantels. The Bretons hadn’t seen much action in recent years other than border skirmishes here and there. Now local politics had now thrown Bretagne’s scent under William’s nose and he was chasing it down like the dog of war he is. For armor, the knaves generally tussled over left-overs and scraps from the smithies, but nothing fit Hugh. An older boy remembered an unusually stout squire many years ago who had left mail behind. It was out of style but I doubt anyone would notice that, if it fit. Hugh had to borrow a tunic from the blacksmith – he rarely wore a shirt of any sort. I spread tallow over the arms and shoulders of the borrowed tunic, trying not to linger in the all the rippling valleys and crests which thrummed like volcanos even while relaxed. I and three other boys then lowered the hauberk over his head. We could have restyled the hauberk, repositioning the giant belly links to Hugh’s shoulders where they were needed, but we hadn’t time. We jerked and yanked hung our entire weight off the armor, squeezing it around the outcroppings his his chest, shoulders and back. It hung loose halfway down his midsection and when he put down his arms, the sleeves didn’t quite reach the elbow. The coif fit fine over his head but was tight around his neck, and spread only partly as far over his upper torso as it was designed to. He started breathing fast in the constricting armor, the clinking links rattling with each breath oddly disturbing, if musical. He could barely move in any direction and looked as stiff as a giant wearing a doll’s costume. We watched in awe as the many war machines were wheeled out and lined up for demonstrations. Somehow, I thought Hugh more impressive than they. By the time Duke Conan arrived, all the pomp and ritual left us sweating in the sun, knees trembling from the weight of unaccustomed armor. A couple boys passed out, clattering to the ground, but Hugh looked fine – confined, sweatily pungeant, but unaffected by the heat. While reviewing us, Conan blinked several times when he came to Hugh. “You there, come forward,” Conan ordered. Hugh walked stiffly forward. “How can you fight? It looks like you can barely move.” Knowing he had erred in not previously providing Hugh with suitable armor in case of war – so rare was fighting in these parts – Geoff piped up and said, “He’s had a growth spurt recently and his armor is actually at the blacksmith’s for alterations--” Duke Conan silenced him, eyes glued to Hugh, and said, “I was speaking to the … boy.” He walked around Hugh, suppressing a sigh at the span from side to side, and front to back. He actually ran his fingers across Hugh’s upper back to test if this was some kind of prank. I don’t think he could tell where the steel stopped and Hugh began. Suspicious, perhaps, that beneath the tunic was steel casing of some kind – perhaps plated armor (Houel could hardly afford to fit his entire levy in plate – no one could), Conan came around and ordered Hugh to raise his arms. Then he cocked his ear, listening closely. Hugh raised his arms straight out the side. The links squirmed noisily as the hard surface below changed shape. The entire hauberk rode up several inches. “Now throw your arm back and bend it as if you were going to throw a spear.” Hugh got his arm half-way back when he got stuck. Conan exchanged a dark look with Count Houel and Hugh wiggled his torso, shifting several more belly inches up around his chest so he could move his arm all the way back. As he half-bent his arm, the links twisted and flattened around it. “Make a muscle,” Conan ordered. Hugh obliged. Hugh tightened his fist made his sinews expand, higher and wider. The mail exploded, shooting fragments of steel in both directions. The other warriors yelled and shielded themselves from the painful missiles. The Duke blinked and saw the pale reddened mound surmounting through the shattered mail, splitting the tunic as Hugh made it bigger … and bigger … and bigger still … and with a final straining grin, created two peaks and peppered us with several more links. Hugh looked eagerly at Conan for approval, but Conan simply stood there with his mouth open. So Hugh, thinking the Duke wanted to see more, held out his other arm and flexed it fully-extended. The chain mail tightened noisily while the meat of his back-arm jutted out … getting rounder … bigger … until it shamed the upper arms of most men and held the links at maximum tautness. His front-arm resembled rose in a long arch, trembling a moment against the links until they popped in the middle and ripped open, exposing the deep crevice between the two halves. Hugh then flexed his arm to match, possibly outdo, his other arm – and the mail and tunic obediently tore apart deep into the pit and over the dragon-claw undulations of his shoulder. He stood there, showing off his two beauties, and several women fainted. Female sighs and moans (or I should say, high-pitched sounds – not limited to females) sang through the assembly as he put his hands on his hips. At the same time, he moved his elbows out and widened his back in stages, left to right, left to right, so you could see his it from the front! The links chinked and jumped, the bottom rising higher and higher up his torso … and then Hugh bounced his chest muscles back and forth. Twisted steel shards blew off his chest and showered down on the crowd, often drawing blood. Even the Duke was not immune but nobody stopped him, watching him in rapt awe. Pulling his shoulders forward, he split the hauberk down the sides, tearing steel like old cloth. Strips of unhinged metal flowed off his body like oil. He kept on popping all his muscles until he reduced the tattered armor to old fringe hanging off the coif. For a moment, I felt a communal urge to spontaneously kneel. But Conan’s eyes shone avidly, and he clapped his hands together. He turned toward a pavilion set up for dinner and ordered, “Clear away the food and bring that banquet table up onto the dais. Right up there,” Conan pointed. As servants scurried, I heard him say to Houel, “I think we have a secret weapon against Normandy right here. I will test of his capacities.” Turning to Hugh, he intoned, “Young knave, come forward and show us your pith.” “Please, sire,” Hugh said, bowing and coloring deeply, “I’ve done enough lately, and it makes the other boys – they’re scared of me. I don’t want to scare people anymore.” “It’s not a request, boy!” Conan thundered. “You will do as commanded or face the consequences.” A nod from Geoff removed his objection and he nodded his obedience. Obviously the Duke hadn’t been informed about the bloodbath yesterday’s “consequences” turned into. It took four straining, huffing servants to trundle over the enormous oak-plank table over the uneven ground. While they struggled with the empty table, Hugh pulled off the coif, his arm nearly pressing against his face, and stripped off the remnants of mail and tunic. A flock of girls surrounded him, rubbing shreds of tallow-covered tunic into his white, perfect skin with a fervid devotion that would make the saints jealous. Others caressed his chest and several explored his back. Three or four of them gripped his arms and he suddenly raised them to his sides, the girls hanging off like pennants and giggling with feverish delight. He showed off how his arms charged shape, raising and lowering the girls with only the granite peaks. They swung back and forth but he stood solid as a Maypole. A couple dropped to caress his legs through the boar hides but that alarmed the ancient seneschal, who hobbled over with a loud bell and shooed them all away. The table arrived at the said, but the servants were too exhausted to lift it up the step, so four fresh servants came and heaved, fumbling, with all their might. Duke Conan grinned and commanded, “Everyone - remove your armor and pile it onto the table!” Geoff sent the dwarf troupe over to help, and as boys helped free their masters and shucked their own hauberks, the dwarves made a clever show of passing it along and, climbing upon each other’s shoulders, layering the mail and helmets with exaggerated artistry. The boards of the platform groaned and popped as the weight increased, and increased further. Just when I thought I heard the table complain as well, Conan called a halt, and ordered two goblets to be filled with wine and set at either end of the table. Reaching into a pocket inside his sleeve, Conan pulled out a small cross, gold with garnets and pearls. “If young … young …” (a servant whispered to him) “young knave Hugh can lift this table into the air without spilling so much as a drop of wine from either goblet, I will entrust his master with this, my own devotional cross, to secure his education and his future needs.” A collective gasp went up – knaves were not allowed to own gold. To have a small treasure in trust for the future was unheard of. Conan either doubted Hugh could combine vigor with dexterity and endurance … or he prayed for it with all his soul. Geoff caught Hugh’s shoulder and whispered, “Remember – when you move things quickly then stop, anything not tied down will keep moving. Slow and steady.” I could see Hugh reining his enthusiasm by the set of his jaw. He leapt onto the dais from a stand and surveyed he table from various angles. The platform cricked underneath Hugh’s feet as he circled – the links of armor tinkled and flared in the sun. His additional weight severely stressed a dais constructed to hold a dozen men. The table sported a pair of stout columns carved with spiraling grooves at each end, braced by an inconvenient trestle running the nearly three-metre length of the bankette. And undulating terrain of steel rose in layers above his head. The goblets were nearly brimful. The trestle would get caught between his legs if he straddled it – he’d never get it all the way. I saw now Conan’s strategy – not simply testing Hugh’s brawn, but his strategic thinking and adaptability. And any solution would require more than simple pith. He went around to the back so all we could see was Hugh’s bent, boar-hide covered legs under the table – the armor pile fully obscured him. He squatted and extended his arms at angles underneath. Then he straightened his legs: and the table rose steadily off the platform. Cries of awe and disbelief rifled through the crowd. The platform sank beneath his feet, the wood barking loudly. Widening his stance, Hugh seemed to drop his shoulders and press up from underneath – the towering steel swayed and flashed in the sun. He edged one foot in front of the other, boards sagging loudly from the concentrated weight. Finally, the bottom of his chest-shelf caught against the trestle. He took several deep breaths while everyone else held theirs. In one smooth movement, he powered the creaking table out and up into the air, slipped his head underneath it and shifting his hands to align with the corners for stability. A loud POPPPP! burst from the platform, which bounced dangerously beneath him. One of the builders caught his attention with a glinting knife, and pointed out where the joists were. With a grateful smile (me: jealous), Hugh slowly spread his legs until they rested on the cross-supports. Thicker trusses protested at such punishment – when it was covered with chairs and people, the platform had been silent, solid as the earth – but they took the stress. He whipped his back leg forward and the swirl of interlocking sinews that rose from his waist and twisted around each other to brace the expanse of his upper torso made the carved pillars at the table’s ends look puny. Plus, how such a narrow, flat and tightly-coiled abdomen could rise and moor the broad clustered beef that anchored his oak-branch arms … it defied belief. No blubbery “strongman” rival such power, such beauty. Sweat trickled down the gullies and trenches of his man-flesh, and his groiny-salted scent wafted insensibly through the crowd. Men stirred unwittingly, uncomfortably, some angrily, while girls and women both undulated, their own bodies responding to Hugh’s proximity by lubricating their gyrations and stirring their desires. I felt my own ass and cock discharge an oily moisture as I wiped drool off my chin. Hugh turned his hands backwards and pressed the table high. The mountains of armor shifted slightly but the tremoring goblets stayed dry. As the trestle scraped against his belly – I half-expected to see shavings fall away as Hugh’s serrations carved the wood as it rose. But of course, the ladies had massaged enough cow fat into his skin that it slid easily past them. With his arms extending above his head, his chest bulged out so far out that Hugh pressed his his chin against the top of one to brace his neck. It did not dent. With a final grunt, he thrust and locked his elbows, the bole-thick knotted arms fitting into his shoulder and chest musculature like a complex war machine. The trestle caught on his overhanging chest and bent like a bow in that final thrust – I dug my nails into my legs, afraid the wood would crack. But the squawking wood held and a cheer went up all around. All except Conan, who’s intent face sweated as profusely as Hugh’s, and whose hips jerked violently, his entire body rigid. But Hugh wasn’t done defying our imaginations. Carefully, Hugh stepped to the end of the dais and dropped down onto the first step, bending his arms to keep the table level as he descended. The stair steps squeaked until he got nearly to the bottom, when one snapped with a BANG! Everyone jumped and yelled in fear for him. But Hugh took it in stride, smoothly following the drop while scrunching his body to keep the table level. He dropped his other foot onto the ground, and walked through the last, splintering steps and risers as if they were made of straw. He carried the table directly to Conan himself. Tension gripped the crowd – what was he going to do? For a moment, I felt a flash of panic - he would hurl the table and its contents onto the Duke and pronounce himself King, defying all challengers. I even saw Conan flinch, his guards fidgeting between the call of duty and the sudden will to flee. But Hugh merely lowered the table back down so that it hovered above the ground, and turned it sideways so Conan could observe, and remove, the first unspilled goblet without having to move himself. Then he kept turning, showing Conan and the audience the rippling contours of this back, which tremored in a rapid tattoo from the strain but never flagged from their labors. My eyes were drawn to the perfect globes capping his hide-clad legs - I wanted to grab them and pull him against me – or hang on while he pressed himself into me. But I shook those thoughts out of my head. Hugh stopped again so Conan could take the second goblet and verify that not a drop had spilled from it either. The he completed his circle and, his arms and shoulders beginning to quiver, he lowered the table to the ground as if presenting it as a gift to his lord. Hugh came around, issuing a hot wind of deep breaths and looking as though he could defy Samson and Hercules together. He dropped down on one knee before Conan, his head sinking beneath the rising plateaus of his back. Hugh could barely control his quavering musculature as he recovered from the punishing victory – he vibrated with effort and stilled himself, as he had the bull. In a cracked, hollow voice, Conan said, “Riiii--” He coughed drily, drank half a goblet down and sputtered, half-choking. With wine staining his chin, he said in a tight voice, “Rise, s- … m-my boy. Where is your m-m-master?” Geoff stepped forward, beaming with pride and relief. Conan gave Geoff the golden jeweled cross, and made him swear an oath on the blood of the Savior that that treasure should be used only to secure a future fit for man who will doubtless perform feats of great renown in the service of his lord and land. Again he crowd cheered and Hugh disappeared beneath a roiling female sea. Water, oil, food passed hand to hand through the crowd to care for him where he knelt, and Conan, feeling singularly ignored, stepped over the Houel and called Geoff and Alain to them. “I had thought to test your war machines against one of the menhirs in that field over there – but I think that, once he has fed and rested, we should test them against young Hugh. That will give us a greater idea of how we could deploy him against the machines of our enemies.” Geoff clearly wanted to protest – both the test and the “use” of Hugh in place of a giant rock simply went too far. But it was not his place, and turned away and prepared to speak with Hugh about what he still must do to fully earn the jeweled cross. Myself, I felt Hugh would love dominating the biggest, mightiest mechanisms created by man – if he were fresh. The last few days, he expended more puissance than a dozen or more grown men. Any failure due to fatigue could make him very angry. And I’d seen him angry – Hugh nearly killed an armored knight with one controlled half-punch through his shield. Even a days’ delay would restore him sufficiently. Worried for him, and the rest of us, I tried to tote up how many men would have to pool their strength to accomplish Hugh’s many feats – the horses followed by the bull, then lifting a horse, then chores chores chores; and chores the next morning before bursting armor and slowly lifting a weight that nearly destroyed the dais he stood on. I could see men falling in exhausting, others rushing to sustain an enterprise for which Hugh required no assistance. I felt dizzy – such potency in one boy-man violated every sense of reason and nature. It was a breach in the world, some supremacy stepping down from the world beyond and stretching human belief to its breaking point. I remembered Jacob had wrestled with an angel, and held it helpless in his arms for three solid days before the angel was able to treacherously injure Jacob’s hip, and escape ignominiously the patriarch’s iron grasp. If men have lived before who could dominate even the angels of God, then perhaps such a man could exist again – not a pagan mythical Hercules, but real man, created by God … perhaps to test our faith. See if we would worship the miracle worker or the one true God who made him. I prayed for guidance through this confusion … but my hands weren’t the only part of me pointing towards heaven. “Jealous?” Alain said, coming up behind me, making me jump. “Ah! Sir, uh, n-no…” I stuttered. He gently cuffed my head and gestured to where Hugh had moved to a couch and was being fed and massaged (or groped) by a hundred hands. “Someday you’ll have the girls pawing over you too,” he told me. “But I’m afraid today, no man here can compete with this shining prodigy.” Relief flooded me – he never suspected who I was jealous of…. Mid-afternoon, people stretching from naps re-assembled for the siege-engine demonstration. The first to be wheeled forward was a new battering ram. “In battle,” Geoff explained, “the roof would be covered with wet hides. Thirty metres long, it weighs over a tonne thanks to the iron head. We can fit thirty men on each side.” “That doesn’t look like a ram to me,” Conan said, peering at the head. “It looks like … a fist.” Houel glowed with pride. “That was my innovation. It’s more frightening, isn’t it? Like the fist of God knocking on the door.” Conan rolled his eyes and said sourly, “I think if Hugh stands on that rise over there, he’ll be in a position to test this … fingered thing.” While the engine was wheeled into place, Hugh eagerly ran over and put his hands on his hips. The shadows his wide shoulders and prominent chest cast over his stomach made the cobbles look truly like a stone wall … except that, while he waited, Hugh flexed and relaxed the individual cobbles and rolled his stomach like sea swells. Stone walls can’t do that. Geoff instructed the soldiers, “Let’s start slow – just you ten.” They positions and began swinging the chains faster, and faster, and faster. The heavy SWOOOOOSH through the air conveyed the speed and weight of the ram and for a moment, I seriously feared for Hugh: that ram could knock a bull out more efficiently than Hugh had. It could kill the bull at one blow. Had Hugh met his match? Soldiers swiftly pulled the brakes away while others shove and the machine lurched forward with its thick capped member extending obscenely. An ear-splitting SMAKKKKK! made us wince as the iron fist struck Hugh dead center in his belly. Hugh flew off his feet and the machine lurched backward, shoulders yelling from the shock that rattled their arms. Hugh landed on his shield-tough back several metres away and rutted the turf landing. He immediately sat up and waved he was unhurt, shaking his golden curls to clear his head. The soldiers however hobbled off the platform, gripping their forearms in each hand, faced carved in pain. “That was fun!” Hugh laughed before leaping straight up onto his feet. His stomach blazed angry scarlet beneath his pale freckled chest. He mock-punched himself and clowned like it really hurt, but then he grinned and, stretching side to side and back and forward, assumed his stance for round two. The crowd bubbled with murmuring like a pot nearing the boil – particularly on the ladies’ side. The men gave each other dirty looks at how openly their women displayed such rampant desires – an impotent rage, given their rival. Two dozen new soldiers replaced the first crew and exchanged nervous glances. Once again, the chains swung back and forth, gathering force. It seemed to gather the crowd as well – people swayed back and forth in rhythm, their excitement building along with the ram’s speed. They unleashed the engine with a violent rush and I hid behind my hands. A thunderclap braced the air as Hugh flew higher and faster and farther than before. The log shuddered to an astonished stop and many of the soldiers screamed and fell to the floor from an impact their joints weren’t designed to sustain. Hugh cut a trench through the field and he sank from view. Yet he hooted merrily and we knew that the ram had failed to hurt him again. Yet Conan frowned – I don’t think he expected Hugh to sail into the air, however unhurt he may be. Had he imagined an impossible spectacle? Had he hoped to insert Hugh between a ram and a besieged gate in the hopes of protecting the fortress with Hugh’s stronger build? Clearly that wouldn’t work. I looked at Geoff, who wore the same worried look as my master: an unhappy lord is more dangerous than any war engine. Yet I saw clearly what Conan overlooked: a ram’s force is transferred into the gate or wall, which cracks and weakens as that force flows through it. Hugh did not absorb that force – he repelled it. That’s why the shock surprised the soldiers and why the ram wobbled backwards. It was that repulsion, force being echoed away from Hugh, that propulsed him through the air. A gate made of such material would be impregnable. Hugh alone possessed such material. Again, I shivered, thinking of a living man who could harden himself beyond any other rock or metal in creation. A living man who let me touch him. Cheers and guffs of awe rose from the crowd as Hugh marched back to the frustrated machine, clods of soil falling off the harder bedrock of his back. Geoff rushed over, whispering urgently to him - Hugh smiled like the sun and nodded happily. The soldiers looked frightened. And this time, the ram was fully crowded with men. The crowd mirrored the swinging ram with their bodies, thrusting themselves forward and back in unwitting unison and urging some maximum test which could release their pent-up excitement. The huge log sliced through the air with a deepening WHOOOSH that beat fast and faster until the moment of its release: it sped forward and Hugh unexpectedly leaped at the iron head with his chest. The KKRRRAKKKKK! rang like a church bell breaking apart. Hugh dropped straight down while the entire engine bounce swiftly away from him, the men behind it jumping out of the way and the rowers flying off the sides. Hugh didn’t move. A frozen silence held the crowd until, as a single being, it raced forward. Hugh looked up and sucked in a mighty draught of air, shook his head and looked around, blinking. The crowd stopped, as if the living thing might become a dragon or griffin. A stunned look clouded his eyes – then they focused on the engine rolling to a slow stop, listed to the side where something broke, and all the men crawling away in pain. He remained crouching, catching his wind. Conan himself inspected the state of the ram. A split ran the entire length of the log – it slumped unevenly in its chain sling. Even more amazing, the top two “knuckles” of the fist had flattened slightly, deformed to the sides. “That’s solid iron,” Geoff said, mouth gaping. He turned back to Hugh. Some soldiers were helping him to his feet – he was so heavy it took three to a side and one in back, and they braced their legs jointly against him like buttresses until he steadied himself. He kept jerking his head, the death-knell of the fist still ringing. Geoff kept waving his fingers in front of Hugh’s eyes but the boy batted them gently away and said, in a firm voice I hadn’t heard him use before, “I’m done with having things run into me for a couple of days.” “The trebuchet is next,” Geoff said worriedly. “Shall I--” Hugh shook his head again with a sly grin. “I have different plans for it.” Geoff stepped back, momentarily alarmed by the forthright assurance Hugh now assumed. He walked around in circles, stretching and massaging his crimson chest. I pined to do it for him … and would have done, in front of everyone, had my master not sent me on an errand. His order felt like a dagger in my stomach. I ran quickly, gave a dispatch to a courier, and by the time I got back, the battered-ram had been trundled away and the trebuchet wheeled forward. Two men on each side grunted as they turned the wheels that ran the tackle and slowly raised the mass of iron-bound oak blocks into the air. Hugh wasted no time. “What are we going to do to this?” Conan asked eagerly. “You’ll see,” Hugh answered arrogantly - which seemed to excite Conan rather than offend him. Conan stepped back as Hugh walked behind it, put one foot on the arm resting on the ground, and signaled the drop. The weight crashed to the platform and Hugh roared like a bear as he bore down with his foot. A legging seam burst open, exposing a bovine thigh – and the pivot rod cracked. The entire beam smashed through the machine with an explosion of splinters. Hugh picked up the end and wrested it free, jostling and battering the entire machine. He placed the end of the arm across his shoulders behind his neck and, draping his outside arm over the top, raised the entire thing up parallel to the ground. Then he wrapped his other arm over it . . . snorted like a bull . . . and pulled. His back opened wide like angel wings, his stomach muscles meshed like the gears of the apparatus itself, and his arms filled every space with their compressed, pulsing meat. We heard him breathing heavily in the silence. Hugh’s face contorted in angry concentration, and his elbows dipped. The short length behind his neck actually bent, issuing a CREEEAAAK SNIK-SNIK-SNIK SNIK SNIK FRACCCKK! The heavy bar split open like a monster’s toothy maw. His outside arm pulled and then twisted the broken as Hugh broken bole until it tore away. He pulled more of the bar across his implacable back. One deep breath and again his face strained, pitting the obdurate ridges of his vein-studded neck. His arms too snaked with blue veins nearly tearing through his buttery red-splotched skin. The solid oak held out as long as it could until Hugh’s arms compelled it to shiver, quake and surrender. He kept going, snapping the bar into pieces without rest, his breathing hoarse, his tender boy’s face a mask of resolute destruction. By the time he fractured the last bit, his grimace bore a terrifying resemblance to some fairy-tale demon. Slivers and chips of wood dusted his hair and body from oak exploding under unbearable pressure. Beside him, a stack of logs ready for the fire. “Magnificent!” Conan declared, unable or unwilling to stop the gushing females who pawed his dauntless, bloated arms and reverently dusted splinters from the many crevices in his back and lodged in his hair. I got a tingling sensation in my groin that he’d tear the engine apart with his bare hands with so much admiration – and indeed, he jumped onto the counter-weight and, clinging to a cross-bar with his toes, grabbed an iron strap in each hand and pulled. The iron bent up a bit but stopped. Hugh jerked them hard and broke them free, happily bending them up and back. He dropped to the ground, dragging the tortured iron with him. Then, inspired, he dragged the freed lengths toward each other and began wrapping them around each other in a giant knot. Then he yanked two fresh sections loose, working the cold metal like it was toughened leather. Showing off, he held an arm rigid and folded the metal back over itself by simply turning his wrist, zig-zagging in with tight switchbacks. At the same time, his other arm rippled as it twisted the flat iron into a spiral. Conan coughed loudly and Hugh turned, glowing in the sun and gleaming with sweat. He had saved the most trying test for last. Hugh slugged down goblets of water and gnawed on some fragrant apples, which mixed a sweetness into his rapturous he-sweat as secretions from different body areas ran and mingling together. “In war, we have not time to rest, no time for refreshment,” Conan declared. “When our enemies lay siege to our cities and hurl boulders into our walls and through our houses, how shall we respond? I want to crush them – literally.” He turned to Hugh, his bony arm outstretched toward the sacred grove. “These standing stones have weathered every winter, every storm, since time immemorial. Centuries of raging wars have neither injured nor moved them. Some say they were planted in the time before men, by Titans or Giants. Some say only Druid magic could have raised and sunk them into the fields where they mystify us to this day. Surely no mortal men could have moved such behemoths. “Young Hugh, your task is to do what neither man nor nature has ever done before you. Uproot one of those ancient monuments so it may be used to smash our enemies and their war machines. You may choose your victim – but your choice will be noted.” Conan led the way; a crowd of men tried to raise and carry Hugh on their shoulders, but the ponderous hulk proved impossible to lift and manage, so they simply surged around him like a pack of hunting dogs. Hugh scooped up the nearest two damsels and carried them like bouquets of flowers in the crook of each arm. Their dainty hands tried to squeeze the unyielding marble of those arms, twisting their hips as they did so. None of our stones are as big as the ones up north, but the field still looks strikes me as a giants’ graveyard. Hugh naturally went to the largest one, shoulder-height but a little wider than he. I wondered which weighed more, and nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity – an absurdity only to someone who had never met Hugh. While Hugh walked around the stone, inspecting clefts and lichen, Conan whispered to Houel, “even if he can only loosen it, we should be able to pull it free with a team of oxen. And he could easily build a gigantic trebuchet to launch these stones. Perhaps even a conveyance to move to them.” I shuddered. Hugh carried the focused, appraising air of a land agent, factoring dimensions, materials and weights that hobbled the imagination. Without ceremony, he dug his feet in and fell upon the weathered stone, oppressing it with focused forces beyond anything nature herself could muster. After so many efforts, Hugh drew from a deep well of virility that seemed never to run dry. The crowd tensed along with him as we waited for the monolith to give. No one doubted it could outlast the onslaught of Hugh. Never relenting the pressure he built up, Hugh managed to slip his hands, his shoulders, his legs into different positions, seeking a stronger purchase, groping with his senses toward the spot already growing weak under his duress. Worrying the monument from every angle, wearing out its grip on the earth, Hugh bullied the half-buried boulder until he found the place where Creation would buckle beneath his will A breeze ruffled through the grass … but when it passed, the grass still shivered. “Look!” I pointed. As every eye turned away from the hero and toward the ground, it humped and split. The stone listed slightly into the breach and several people fainted along with it. Hugh didn’t let up but churched the ground behind him plowing into the monolith. A hump broke upward between his legs as Hugh silently commanded the monument to lie prostrate before him. Conan choked as the yawning field disgorged waves of loam displaced by the foot of the stone being impelled up into the light. Hugh stepped back for the first time, shaking his throbbing limbs so the muscles tossed back and forth like small animals. He spent a few seconds catching his breath, and the swung himself under the leaning side, grappled for a hold, and pulled with a heavy grunt. The earth vomited in distress as Hugh dragged the stone towards the level and mashed its face toward his feet. The menhir listed drunkenly now but something deep intruded on his progress and held the stone. Hugh vigorously tugged and wiggled the tonnage, breaking the obstruction and relinquishing its hold on the monolith once again. Hugh’s arms engorged in undulating ridges, spurs and peaks. His shoulders bulged nearly as big as his head, their carved fingers digging like claws onto his arms and back. His concave belly shifted right and left, directing dominance from his legs into his arms and rippling around his frame like wind-blown sheaves of wheat. Finally, with one crippling shove, Hugh wrenched the monolith free of the earth, crammed its face into the dirt as the entombed end blasted through in an eruption of soil and small rocks. When I shook the grit out of my eyes, I could barely believe what I saw – nearly as much had been buried as stuck up from the earth. It was twice as big as it had looked, the unearthed portion was dark and wet, with clumps of mud sticking to it like the lichen huddled all over the exposed half. Nearly twice as big as Hugh, it seemed impossible to move it any further, except – maybe – to roll it down a hill (were the ground not flat). Wasting no time, Hugh walked around the far side, knelt and reached one arm over the width of the fallen warrior of time. With a HUP and a HRRRGGGGHH, Hugh leaned backward, bending like a bow. His stomach clenched in sharp relief and long rods rippled in his extended forearm. The rock rose a few centimeters but then fell back into the turf. Undeterred, Hugh nearly bounced it back up into the air – but this time, the side closest to him slipped and fell. The fact that he could lift it at all froze everyone in a tableau of wonder. He wrapped his rock-strewn arms around it and pulled, his neck bulging and face purple, but only managed to lever it off the ground and shift it sideways a bit, farther away from its empty grave. He reached underneath and drove his legs down as he raised the end as far as his knees, kneading the ground to press an advantage – but again the weight proved too much, and he had to drop it. He called for water and wide-eyed, trembling girls brought him several bowls, along with fruit and a hunk of roasted beef. He gorged himself, allowing the girls to lick the grease off his fingers. He rubbed them against the surface of the stone, peeling off layer of flint and coating them with dust. He walked around to the middle and tried to raise it laterally – it hinged up half a metre or more before it slipped free. Hugh’s face clouded with annoyance and I feared his angry fist might turn it into more manageable pieces – but he redirected his impatience into his arms. Reaching one arm over the top, he grunted and craned it a metre into the air – several people experienced spasms of a certain kind – and held it teetering while he tried to shift the weight for the next stage. But the tonnage resisted his power and bobbed toward the earth. With a strangled scream, Hugh stopped it for a moment – held it – but had to let it go. Setting his feet farther apart, he heaved yet again, grappled the monolith higher, his lower arm bursting its skin as it braced the burden, dragged his shoulders back and, staggering once, wrestled it onto thighs – where it balanced, its immensity sinking him into the soil. Hugh took three breaths, rocking back and forth with each one, then leaned further back and levitated the stone onto his chest, tottering around as the menhir fought his dominance. He sidled to a halt and paused a moment, dwarfing mass trapped by his inexorable arms. His face screwed tight with strain, Hugh pressed the under arm up, its sinews bunching and trembling, while the arm over the top actually flipped the rock over – a move that almost went wrong, had his legs not danced and buttressed him to stop it. Then his legs began to shake violently and he sank beneath the stone which pressed against his face. The crowd burst with burbling concern that he might be smashed under the giant rock, his hubris leading to a predictable end – and I was afraid if it brought him to his knees, he’d but unable to continue. But … it didn’t. He didn’t kneel. He waddled toward stonier ground, looking like an ant carrying not a crumb but the entire loaf. Hugh’s knees began knocking as he fought to stand, the perfect globes of his ass quivering in time – but he worked his hands around to the underside even as he fought to discipline his rebelling limbs. Taking advantage of what inertia he’d created, Hugh wasted no time resting but pressed the rock above him – his body near parallel to the ground. Barking ferocious groans I could feel in my breastbone, he manipulated the granite giant up as he straightened his back and fought mightily against his own shaking arms. With hoarse, whistling war-cry, the god-man-boy straightened up and pressed the menhir up until his elbows locked and framed his terrible visage. He continued bellowing as he trapped the stone mountain in the air above him, mocking its desire to reunite with the earth. He lurched several steps before stopping at the end of the softer ground and sought Conan – rooting the Duke to the spot with his eyes. He stayed that way until Conan buckled at his hips and dropped his mouth in something like awe. With a snarl, Hugh then let it drop behind him and flexed his bloated arms until the cramping made him shake them out. Once more the crowd poured over him, massaging and rubbing him – a crush Hugh might not have been able to sustain had not circumstances turned against us. His sweet odor took on a pungeant manly stink, which the air caught and carried back into the forest. Before long, a grisly roar answered Hugh’s call from the forest. My master said to Geoff, “I thought you said Hugh had scared off all the predatory animals.” “He has,” Geoff replied. “There must be a migration.” “Bears don’t migrate,” Alain said, “And that was a very angry bear. Again, a mere whiff of Hugh’s scent has driven some beast to fury.” We got a first glimpse of the foaming, shambling beast, and Geoff said with restrained panic, “Not fury, but madness,” Geoff concluded. “That bear is mad. Its bite is deadly – even a scratch can afflict a man with madness.” People stampeded for the city walls once the bear blundered sideways out of the grove and shook deadly froth from its drooling maw. Despite being clearly spent, Hugh immediately strode to face the monster – and we all felt riveted by the same thoughts – if he were too exhausted, Hugh would be no match for the bear – killed or, worse, infected. A rabid Hugh could lay waste to the entire county. The afflicted are routinely strangled before the madness takes hold, but who, or what, could constrict Hugh’s throat? The archers ran back to the castle to fetch weapons but Hugh advanced alone. “No! Hugh, I forbid it!” Geoff ordered, but Hugh responded only to a higher calling, his fatigue replaced by renewed vigor. He ripped the shredded remains of his leggings and codpiece and tore away even his undercloth, one naked beast facing another. Women tried to turn away and close their eyes, but they had lost the will to resist the sight of Hugh's golden glory. Palming two large stones, he bounced their weight – likely as much as a strong man could struggle up to his chest – and then hurled first one, then the other, in quick succession, his arms like trebuchets – only more powerful. The bear fell, struck on the head and shoulder … but rose up on two legs, now truly angry. Slinging ropes of poisonous slobber across the field, it roared and fell clumsily to all fours, lighting into a lopsided charge on legs it seemed unable to fully control. As if it were under the spell of a sorcerer’s apprentice. Hugh ranged from side to side but the bear turned and faced him, always advancing. The hero crouched on titanic legs and launched himself into the air, rising for several metres and sailing over the bear like a bird of prey. The animal stood and swatted at him but Hugh flew too far and too fast, causing the unsteady creature to fall onto its back. As it struggled back to its feet, it turned so Hugh could leap and plant himself like a spear onto its vast shaggy back. Hugh tried to wrap his arms around the giant’s chest but could barely reach – his fingers touched but couldn’t grip. The bear roared and shook violently, but Hugh’s fingers pierced the dense fur and his legs clamped over its waist. Then Hugh shook back. Savagely throwing his body from side to side, Hugh forced the bear to stumble sideways several paces before it plant its claws and hold onto the ground. He shook the bear again but it lowered itself to the ground – so Hugh threw his shoulders back with a strained grimace. And overcoming the bear’s fury, bent its spine back and its forelegs off the ground. Hugh cinched his arms and legs – the bear bellowed in pain and confusion, outmuscled by something small yet heavy and brutally irresistible. Hugh shook the bear again until its head wove back and forth, and then he arched his back and slammed that head into the ground. A look appeared in the bear’s crazed eyes – a moment of clarity, a primitive instinct for escape. The beast fought against Hugh’s strength with the renewed energies of something now fighting for its life. As Hugh’s shoulders tensed, prying the bear’s up again, it fought him, bucking and shaking, matching him strength for strength. Feeling the iron spine defy him, Hugh squeezed until the bear screamed. Every move Hugh made in directing the bear one way, the bear countered, twisting and scratching the other way. Hugh’s face contorted as his arms labored against the sturdy ribs, his fingers grappling for a link. The bear writhed violently but Hugh closed his eyes and with a hissing sound, linked his middle fingers. The beast wore stark fear on its face, its chest compressed, its hips being wrench by the horrible contortions of Hugh’s legs. I held my breath – I couldn’t tell what Hugh was trying to do, besides hang on. Slowly, by pitching his back fiercely, Hugh guided the bear to the stone he had just conquered. His eyes sharpened frightfully, and with his teeth bared and an almost-evil smile, he arched his back again and clumped the bear forward with his own indomitable torso. With claws clutching helplessly at the soil, the bear realized – as much as it could – it was losing. When Hugh coerced his captive abreast of his trophy, he flexed his entire body, lifting the bear off the ground and slamming it back down. He did it again, and again, each time gaining a greater bounce until with clenched grunt, Hugh actually flipped himself onto his back on the stone’s surface, the quarter-tonne bulk pronged above him. The animal’s legs waved in the air but Hugh’s back spread out beneath him, bracing against each terrorized thrust of the mindless brute. The boy-man had even crushed its roar down to a steady wheezing moan frothed out with its spittle. Hugh’s legs trapped the bear’s hind limbs and pulled them out and away, immobilizing them. He arched up onto his shoulders and bent that iron spine – and squeezed. Hugh shook the bear to the left and clamped his hands more tightly to its chest. He jarred it to the right and a sickening pop came out of the bear’s lower quarters. The wheeze now carried a bone-chilling whine of fear. Hugh tensed ferociously trembling with impossible effort, bending the bear's steely ribs in on themselves. Hugh’s rising growls drowned out the animal’s eerie whistling. Now gripping his wrists, he shrank the bear’s chest further through barbaric will. His arms, buried deep in the fur, rubbed slightly back and forth: their knots, harder than bone, fractured ribs. He rattled the bear like a doll, draining the dregs of its vitality with relentless determination. Its swimming forelegs slowed, and slowed further, and then merely waved as if blown by the wind. Once the bear’s legs stopped moving (though still twitching), Hugh’s legs straightened out, further disjointing its hind legs and hips. The trapped victim emitted a thin, high wail, its tongue lolled out of its mouth, a harsh gurgling sound coming with it. Hugh could have finished the bear off right there, but something terrible had been ignited in the man-boy’s chest – and further below. Hugh rolled off the stone and plopped the weakened beast onto the ground. Arching his own back, Hugh brought his legs forward and clamped them against the stove-in ribs. Pulling the bear backward again and trapping its lower torso with his own, Hugh gyrated up, his ass dimpling and clenching, his manroot thrusting through the densely matted fur. It seemed to pulse with every sharp crack echoing through the circle. His eyes feverish, the shocking obscenity of the tableau held everyone in a merciless grip. Hugh wrangled his arms up, never releasing their unbearable pressures, hands reaching for the animal's head. Gripping the rocklike skull, Hugh's chest rose like twin peaks as he stopped the bear's thrashing. His hands crept down, his bulbous forearms immobilizing the bear's head. The entire crowd buzzed with tension that ratcheted higher as Hugh linked his hands underneath its head. With a grim frown, Hugh straightened back up, fighting the bear's final desperate spasms. With a final choking splutter, the bear’s head rose in Hugh's puissant grip, its long long neck tremoring. Stretching. Tearing. Hugh’s invincible lance jousted with the arched neck, his hips slowly digging up and down. But the bear's neck was too long - even with the skull pressed into the valley of his chest, the neck did not break. He'd either have to be work his way backwards ... or ... My knees gave way weakly as Hugh's sculpted arms sprouted veins along their extreme curves. Hugh pushed the head up in a harrowing repeat of his menhir feat. A thin shrill shriek bubbled out of the gaping maw, big eyes suddenly blank with a resignation more terrible than its death throes. Hugh's elbows inched up, his hands rising to stomach-curdling wet PWOPP sounds. Hugh stretched the neck unnaturally longer even as the bear's tongue seemed to crawl out of its throat. Blood sprayed from tears in the victim’s hide, the skin rending in garish jagged slashes. Hugh grimaced as he grappled the bear's body down – down and away. Hugh pushed his arms towards the sky with renewed gristle. Through the ragged flaps of skin, I could see thick cables of muscle stretching and then rolling up into tight knots. Soon I could see the white bones floating like beads on a broken chain washed in red. His virile member erupted, spewing ropes of viscous pearlescence through the hot fur and into the ragged wounds. His legs gripped the body firmly, riding it with bucking hips and plowing himself violently against the dying beast. Finally, with a triumphant bellow that shook the stones themselves, Hugh extended his arms all the way up and sheared the bear's head off its jerking, dying torso. The torn neck fountained blood, mired with Hugh's own jetting essence streaming up through the coat like grappling ropes. Hugh’s seed-fountain continued even as the blood slowly ebbed, soaking the coat in his milky pith. He shuddered, his naked muscles rippling and drumming fleetly beneath his papery white skin, and making a final grunting cry, Hugh stubbed himself out in eye-flickering bliss. Hugh paused a moment, chest heaving with deep satisfaction, until the echoing pleasures slowly Faded. Shaking sense and awareness back into his golden-curled, blood and semen-caked head, carried the still-lethal skull, dripping blood and froth of Hugh, to the gaping pit that once housed a menhir, and dropped it in. He went back to the corpse, grabbed a loose hind-leg, and pulled it over to the grave, kicking it in. Then, in desperation or derision, I couldn’t tell, Hugh tugged the stone, bit by exhausted bit, until its immeasurable tonnes covered the tomb. Hugh turned and raised his fists over his head, his heavy arms bent and throbbing like the empurpled mast rising above his navel, shaking its own glistening fist. But only briefly - he sank down, hands on his knees his shoulders sinking and his back sagging. Then he was lost as cheering soldiers surrounded him and, in a joint effort, raised him to his feet and half-carried him away from the slung saliva and gore, to a grassy rise shaded by the setting sun. The women broke through the soldiers with kettles and bowls of cool and steaming water, shouldering them away like an invading army. Over their heads I heard him mutter “meat,” and platters passed hand to hand from the high table directly to him. Sating himself, he fell into a deep slumber, oblivious of the hands massaging oils into his muscles. Soon the jealous guards rallied and drove the women away, circling him and facing out to keep so many hungry eyes and hands at bay. Geoff had excused Hugh from the rest of his chores that afternoon, so after I finished mine and got something to eat, I returned to his pallet. He was fast asleep on his back, lying flat on his back with only a modest cloth around his loins. The air near him shimmered torridly, and sweat beaded on my forehead and under my arms. I quickly doffed my togs and draped myself over his mounded form. He stirred slightly, his barrel chest rising, but otherwise I may as well have been a light blanket. Arousal chases my fatigue away, and take advantage of last night’s offer and stretch my limbs, pressing my body against his muscles – firm yet pliable at rest, their density defied my penetrating fingers, but I could press and caress them, trace the expansive flesh as it narrows and gathers into steely tendons. His blood pulsed slowly through them, perfectly balancing his other humors and restoring his incalculable vitality. My own loin covering stirred as I rubbed against the serpent sleeping between the pillows of its generative nest. The serpent rose slightly, stirring waves through Hugh’s body which undulated and stretched in sleep. His mouth pursed and opened slightly and, overcome with desire, I gripped his upper arms and slid myself up onto his chest. My own member lay erect in the alley that ran down the center of his cobbled abdomen – it fit perfectly, caressed and massaged as those muscles rose and fell as he breathed. From the barrel-crest of his chest, I reached down and placed a daring kiss on his thick, languid lips. Still asleep, his mouth accepted mine, rubbing against my lips. I nuzzled the down around his chin and let my tongue slip out, seeking his. His tongue also sought mine and they caressed one another and explored each other’s hot, wet den. My own drool flowed strongly, lubricating our fun, and a distant, dreamy smile invited me to display greater passion. I sucked his lips and licked his teeth, and when I felt his hands land lightly on my ass, I shuddered in anticipation and a little fear: if he rolled over and didn’t wake up, could I support his weight or would I be crushed or suffocated by Hugh’s ponderous magnitude? I stretched my arms over his and wrapped my legs over his thighs, encouraging him to stay put but offering my nether orifice for his rising python. He gripped me tighter, so tightly I winced and bit his lip by mistake – his eyes opened drowsily and for a moment, we gazed at each other with his hands clasping hindside. Just then a sharp laugh startled us both (and several of the horses). Hugh raised his head as I turned and saw a buxom young maid with a startled look on her face. “You boys are incorrigible!” she said a little loudly. Hugh rose up on his elbows and sloughed me off to the side, where I adjusted my loin cloth and blazed bright red. She paid me no mind. “All rested, hero?” she said saucily, tugging coyly at the lace that held her bodice together. “How would you like a real woman to satisfy you. I promise it’ll be better than some smelly bear.” She spread her knees and pressed a palm into her skirt with an open mouth. Heat kindled in Hugh’s eyes and his groin snake bobbed up through the folds of his cloth. She walked backward toward a stack of hay bales in the shadows. Forgetting me, Hugh rose – like a mountain growing before my eyes, or a dragon taking off from its lair, his body simply kept going and going and going until he was up and around the corner. But Hugh stopped short, looking uncertain. “Come on,” she cooed. “No one will care. You’re a man now. You do what you want.” Hugh fidgeted against the cloth restraint binding his eagerness. “My master said I would grow weak if I did it. I don’t even, you know, do myself. Not as often as other boys.” “You’re no boy, and no man is your master,” she chided. “Not even the king can rival you. Besides, we all saw what you did to that bear. Are you weak now?” She threw a horseshoe, which he caught. Spreading the fingers of that one hand around the prongs but not taking his eyes off her, Hugh squeezed – and crushed the metal shoe as if it were clay, until it snapped in two. Yet he didn’t let it go – gathering both parts into his palm, he folded them in half – both at the same time – until the outmatched steel could bend no further and broke again. His clenched the pieces in his fist and mashed it again, his forearm filling with rocks that scrubbed against each other. A metallic tinkling seeped out between his white-knuckled fingers. When he opened his fist, shattered fragments of steel rained to the floor, unidentifiable as having ever been a forged horse shoe. “Guess not,” he replied with sheepish excitement. The maid had watched wide-eyed, bosom heaving and mouth opening and semi-closing in excitement of her own. Though she massaged both her breasts and released them, she stiffened and shivered as if fulfillment had ignited without any external stimulation. Her eyes hooded with breathless hunger. “Then, what are you waiting for?” she half-dared, half-begged him huskily. That was it. His loin cloth ripped around his vibrant erection has he flung it away and pulled her to him, immediately entering her. She gasped as his girth stretched her open more than ever before, but he didn’t rush to the finish line. Hugh’s natural instinct for lovemaking took over – building, teasing, pulling back, slowing down then racing, all the while withholding his essence. His manfunk wafted through the stable with a delirious mixture of wild musk and protective warmth. Her eyes rolled up into her head – however vigorously he slid in and out, he was gentler, more controlled – stronger – than any man she’d been with. And … he made her wetter than ever before. Mixed with the leakage from his powerful organ, they slid against each other like eels. She clutched at the hay behind her, her nipples like craters as another pleasure wave washed through her. Again, instinctively, Hugh let her subside and then whipped her up until the storm broke in her several times before he unleashed his own deluge. Hugh’s arm shot out and grabbed a shovel, the blade warping in his grip. He shot into her with such force she instantly came again, biting her lip to stay quiet. His ass dimpled and writhed for so long I realized I would get no sleep tonight – perhaps never again. My own midsection rocked as I spurted in envious sympathy. I massaged myself dry with my under cloth and was about to return to the pallet, when I saw it – he wasn’t pulling out. He was clearly still turgid. Still filling her. Still thrusting. She smiled hungrily, grabbing his ass and pulling herself against him. He slammed into her hard this time, again and again, jiggling her breasts and body, shattering her composure and driving her to wild abandon. She thrashed and ground herself against in rhythm against him, whipping her loosened hair from side to side and moaning gutterally like a cow in calving. In full control and awareness of their danger, Hugh smoothly grabbed a leather work glove and gently shoved it into her mouth. She chewed it like it was dinner. He came again, dimpling longer than before but sluicing in and out and spilling long tendrils of cock drool. I stayed crouching, hardening again and barely aware of the pain. And as I suspected, he didn’t quit. More like he was still getting warmed up. But the maid began to flag, endless pleasure addling her brain. She shuddered periodically, ranging between an empty smile and a tense incomprehension that only Hugh’s persistence could dismiss. Her sopping hair lay lank over her shoulders, her breathing hitching from his power and then siking into a heavy, coarse wheeze. He came a fourth time and she moaned in mindless pleasure and pain. His seed spurted down and ricocheted off his pendulous ball sac … as if she were full. For the first time, he pulled out completely, his knob painted her belly and breasts with his man-lime. A steady stream ran down her legs slowly, like freshly-rendered glue. His sword waved challengingly, throbbing with purple ardor. His exhales came fast and heavy and his red eyes burned with feverish intensity. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do but then, face enlivening, he lifted her into the air, spun her around and did what I had so longed for: took her bunghole like a rutting beast. The pain shocked her awake and she screamed into the glove. Her torso impulsively clenched around him but hadn’t the strength to expel the invader. Sliding her up and down on his breed shaft with one hand, he pulled out the glove stuck his fingers in her mouth, attacking her defenses on two fronts. Her panic retreated and as they joined into a single oscillating being, his body commanded hers to banish pain and feed greedily on pleasure alone. Obediently, her body obeyed and her tension fell away like the tattered remnants of her clothing. He bobbed her up and down endlessly before clenching his ass and releasing another eruption of manly lava. Feeling his own control fight for command against greedy, voluptuous gluttony, he wrapped one arm around a stud and squeezed. His arm crunched into the wood – splinters broke out around it. He squeezed pitilessly as the ecstasy of another tidal wave rolled out of him and utterly submerged her. Solid oak creaked and split loudly. Finally he eased down, left the poor oak post alone, and rested his back against a high stack of hay, holding her up with one hand and simply staying still. But staying within her. Not softening. Not at all. The crippled beam groaned as the weight of the roof shifted into its weakness. The groaning excited Hugh and he slowly began plumbing her for a sixth time. Something broke in my mind – a relaxation, an acceptance of such unbelievable strength and stamina. A kind of faith moved my heart that I never felt at mass. My body responded by releasing another white libation, globs of it billowing forth before the ecstacy could catch up – it rushed in late and quaked me to my soul, submitting my life to this thundering, earth-shaking deity before me. Hugh focused intently on her, careful not to bruise or injure her as he ground her back and forth in semi-circles. Her limbs flopped randomly, their motions aimless and simply sparking off stray bolts of joy her weaker frame could not contain. She shuddered again as another convulsion gripped her, and her seizure gripped him and undammed yet another flood of his virility into her guts. Not only the stream down her legs increase, now from two willsprings within her, but her belly began to bloat. Hugh looked as though this premature release – stimulated by her and not commanded by him – had cheated him. He stayed in and bucked her a little roughly, making her jaw chatter loosely, until he pasted her insides a seventh time. Ignoring how her rib cage expanded in his grip, Hugh plunged deeper with an urgency he hadn’t shown before. His bull-balls slapped the back of her ass as he chased the shimmering bliss he caught so easily again and again. His back stiffened and spread apart and the overflow of another cascade splattered his nutsack and thighs. Her eyes opened with bemused surprise as she belched and … smelled Hugh in it. The maid passed out completely and slumped on him, twitching and jerking like a dreaming dog. His face glowing with greed for a vein of gold that ran deeper and deeper into the mountain, he kept excavating for it. A series of short hard rams made her burp his salty musk, made her breasts flop along with her arms and nodding head. The hammering sped faster and faster until his cheeks became a blur. Then suddenly he stopped and mashed her down as if he were trying to snap his manhood off. But that prong stood up to him defiantly and rebuffed his efforts. Within the frenzy of his ninth fusillade, a heavenly smile pierced his face like a sunbeam after a storm eliciting a heavenly smile to spread across his face. The sun banished the storm and he slowed down to a steady strum. Pinning her against a wall of hay with only his horn of plenty, he put his hands on his hips and wiggled them, watching her bob like a puppet. Hugh didn’t like her leaving him alone like that - so he leaned forward, placing one fist on either side of the hay beside, and supported her with It while staring intently into her face. His presence penetrated her dazed mind and dragged her back to consciousness – while he stayed still, spreading and pulsing with her, her own grinding movement down below betrayed her return to paradise. He began slow rotations, lazy figure eights that hardened him until his balls hitched. Then, again, he became … perfectly … still…. But she shook with warring tensions and seized with unhinged rapture. He grinned with masterly hauteur and withheld himself until she scratched violently at him and seemed she’d shake herself apart if he did not feed her. Still he waited until her panting desperation opened her eyes – he locked them to his – and she seemed to wither and bloom at the same time within his gaze, her mind turning inside out beneath the fullness of his revelation. Still he waited. Still he grinned. Finally, drool spilled in rivulets out of her mouth, followed by a plaintive mewling bordering on despair. He nodded, slowly, over and over as he felt her identity disintegrate – and then he released the hounds of war. Her chest inflated from the inside, a strangled cry of incredulous surrender rose from her gaping mouth, and her breath, redolent of his salt, filled the air and made the horses rustle and neigh. His own fecund odor returning to him from inside her kept his demonic prick sharp as he tunneled even deeper into the mountain for that skein of gold. His muscles flinched - he had ridden himself raw – and now every motion exploded in his brain. A mere normal man would pull away, flee, his brain melting. But Hugh was made better. He carried her gingerly to a worktable, sweeping clean its surface with his arm, and laid her down. He stood upright so that the pressure bore down on his virility, and though it bounced her up a little, it soon settled down. Standing there, hands on his hips, his massive chest rising and sinking like storm billows on the open see, he defied every extreme sensation – he refused to withdraw, he would not pass out. Hugh willed every impulse into submission, and wrung the savor out of each moment. They could not gang up on him. They could not overcome his control. His chest rolled triumphantly as he disciplined his own rebellious passions and directed them to serve him one more time. The lightning from this battle shot into her. She twitched wildly, arms and legs spasming and battering his ram inside her. He conducted the unbearable pleasures until he chose to let them go. Throwing his head back, he barked and howled, reached up and grabbed a roof joist: and each time her leg kicked or her hand flicked, his fingers sank deeper into the splintering oak. He swayed there, his head shaking slowly back and forth and veins pounding in his neck. With a moan of pure satisfaction, his shoulders twitched and his hips swiped her back and forth across the table. He froze and braced his legs and ass. An eleventh milking surged into the maid. Her body swelled, her neck fattened – and his puissance gushed out of her moaning mouth in driving bursts. My body wrenched a third helpless time together with gripping alarm. I felt immobilized but somehow I shouted, “Sir!” as his seed trickled out of her nose and not only from her ears, but also her eyes, like pearly tears. Hugh’s eyes whipped open and he turned and glared in mad fury. I fell back, my cock now heaving drily, and mustered all my courage. “She needs a doctor!” He looked back and for the first time saw the swollen main, his viscous ichor still seeping from her head. He pulled out suddenly and a bucket’s worth of slime whooshed out and all over his legs. He lifted her in one arm and, with the other, battered a hole in the side of the stable. He ran into the village, naked and not only erect but still foaming like … like a mad bear. He woke the doctor by breaking his door in half. The doctor clutched his blanket in terror, then saw the girl and jumped up so Hugh could place her on the bed. Though he was no longer in her, the overflow continued to leak out, spreading slowly over her body. All the time, though her eyes fluttered pure white, the smile never left her lips. The doctor pushed gently on her belly and semen oozed from several openings at both ends. He turned around and, seeing Hugh’s still-drooling plowshare, started in amazement before recovering himself. “Young man, I’ll take it from here.” Tears stained Hugh’s beautiful features. “I didn’t mean to … will she be all right?” “I’ve never seen anything like this,” the old man confessed. “So long as nothing inside her has burst, she should pull through. Though I doubt she’ll ever be the same. You should prepare yourself however: I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a father, several times over. Such prodigious … vigor … might likely plant a prodigy of seedlings in this young girl.” Turning away, he muttered again, “Like an Irish rabbit.” Hugh seemed stricken so I gripped his unyielding arm tight as I could. “Come, you should rest again. And I can’t carry you if you fall asleep stark naked in the street.” Hugh shuffled out and embarrassedly propped the shattered boards door back in the doorway. Overcome with a surge of relief or joy or something, he grabbed and lifted me high into the air, shook me wildly with an ecstatic grin on his face, and draped me over his shoulder like a potato sack. I could feel the slimy slap of his dick against my feet as he trotted down the moonlit street. My hands explored the battlements of his back under the guise of holding on: the central pennant-poles, the squarish berms of annealed flesh over each shoulder blade, and the ramparts that spread to either side. The feeling his shoulder rippling back and forth against my belly made me come again but, having nothing left, it hurt more than anything. I wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Back in the stable reeking of fornication, he flung me onto his pallet and stared down proudly. “My friend!” he said, beaming, chest flaring. Then, treating me more like a pet than a friend, he lay down beside me, enclosed me with his irresistible arm-mass and tucked my face into the deep pit of foggy musk between his chest and back. He fell to sleep immediately but my heart raced like a hunting hound. His bushy hairs tickled my forehead and soon his peace encompassed me. I dreamed I was running beside him and wagging my tale forever and ever. THE END
  4. Hope U R all having and are going 2 have a very Merry Christmas..? Heres the last 3 chapters of my festive mg story.. Part 3 Jacob awoke groggily to find himself hanging upside down. For a moment he was too dazed to know what had happened. Then, as his faculties cleared, he was sharply brought back to reality.. He had been in a car accident. The car had landed on its roof and Jacob was upside down in the car and still buckled into his seatbelt,which had almost certainly had saved him from being catapulted out of the the car through the shattered and now missing windscreen. He turned to look at the driver, the guy who had given in to giving him a lift. Daniel was also still hung in his seatbelt upside down, but he seemed unconscious.. Blood trickled from a deep cut on his head closest to his door and the roof on his side had caved in considerably,squashing the door,blocking access. Jacobs first instinct was to unlock his seatbelt to try to attend to Daniels potentially life-threatening wounds. When he managed to free himself he slumped with a thud onto his upper neck and shoulders and suddenly cried out in agony as a sharp pain ran through his right shoulder. Jacob tentatively propped himself up the right way,wincing as he felt more sharp pain through what could have been a dislocated shoulder or even a fracture to his collar bone. This was'nt the place to diagnose injuries just yet. The ice cold wind was blowing the snow stingingly through the broken windows as Jacob focused himself into extracating Daniel from his seat and getting help.. He fumbled to release Daniels seatbelt and eased the older guy from the drivers seat as best as he could.Daniel groaned and stirred slightly as it seemed evident he was drifting in and out of consciousness.Jacob gritted his teeth,trying to use a quick burst of strength to cut out his own pain as he hauled Dan from his seat and through the smashed passenger window.''Don't worry buddy.. Gonna get you some help. You''ll be good in no time''. Now outside of the vehicle for the first time Jacob tried to get his bearings in his winter cloaked surroundings.The car had come to rest on its roof down a sharp slope against a tree, having turned over several times down the steep incline. Jacob could hardly see too far,such was the aggressiveness of the wind blowing the falling snow into a near horizontal sheets of icicles that stung at Jacobs face. This weather was beginning to turn into a blizzard. Jacob swung his hood over his face and then hauled out his bag and used it as a pillow to prop up Daniels head,and covering his face with his own scarf,trying to use the car as much as possible as shelter from the howling white-out.With a bit more digging,Jacob had found in the trunk,Daniels packed bags and pulled out another coat and another scarf. He covered Daniel and used the scarf as best as he could to tend to the nasty cut on Daniels temple. It seemed as if Daniels head had hit the side of his drivers door as it caved in during the cars roll down the slope and Jacob could'nt tell just how bad Dans head injury was.. He needed medical help immediately. Jacob tried his phone but there was no signal. Cursing,he nearly threw it in anger into the nearby snow but thought better of it and shoved it back into his coat pocket.Looking up through the near blinding snow, he thought about clambering up onto the road to call for help from a passing motorist.. ''Hey buddy..be right back.. You just hang in there..'' Jacob snapped off a thick bare branch from part of the tree that had fallen of in the impact of the car against it, and using it as a prop,he tried to scramble up through the deepening snow to the edge of the road.Tired and aching from the pain in his shoulder,he reached the top and stumbled into the road.For as much minutes as he dared spare leaving Dan, he stamped up and down the road calling for help and waiting anxiously for a car to come by.Finally frustrated, he slid back down to the car and to Daniel and lightly tapped him on his cheek.''Hey buddy.. You still with me..?''Daniel groaned and moved his head slightly,and muttered. ''Jeff..?''In Dans semi-conscious state,he could see Jeff looking down and smiling at him.. Jacob was at least this bit relieved that Dan was still holding on,but he still needed help.. He shouted at the top of his lungs for help..And for a few minutes all he could hear was the howling of the wind and the crwaking of the trees. He gritted his teeth in anger.''Not like this.. Not fucking like this..''He did'nt want to end up frozen to death in the wilderness,..like Jack Nicholson freezing in the Maze at the end of The Shining..! Suddenly,the wind seemed to die down just that slightly for Jacob to hear what sounded faitnly like bells jingling.This first sign that someone,..anyone, could be out in this white-out could potentially mean survival. Spurred on,he jumped to his feet and tried to focus his ears and eyes on the sound..Then,..through the snowfall he could see a misty image that gradually became clearer as it drew nearer.''Hey..over here...Help..Help.!'' A shape of a sleigh drawing through the snow greeted Jacob.. It was drawn by a single reindeer,harnessed in leather that was adorned with the bells Jacob thought he had heard.On the back and guiding the sleigh was a figure wrapped in a thick tawny brown fur or fur-like coat..a hood lined with grey-white fur or wool drawn over his head and hiding his face, and his trousers of similar tawn colour and fur. Even his boots seemed thick and woolen..Like this fella was used to the outdoors life in harsh wilderness. The sleigh pulled up close to the crashed car. ''Whoah there Blitzen..Good boy'' the stranger said apparently to his reindeer as if it was a pet. Jacob for a moment was rightfully overjoyed that help had arrived.''Hey mister, my friend needs help.. We crashed and now i think hes badly hurt.. We need to get him to a hospital fast..!'' The hooded stranger stepped off the sleigh,..itself covered in furs and a deep red woolen cover, and trudged through the snow over to where Daniel lay prone. He bent down and slipped his hand out of the thick brown gloves he wore and gently touched at Daniels wounds.The,turning to look up at Jacob, he slipped off the hood he was wearing to reveal the face of an old man who looked wizened with age.He had a thick white beard and wispy white eyebrows and a weathered and slightly reddened face that overall, to Jacob he seemed to look so calming and warm.''My boy,I'm afraid that this snowstorm has downed communications and getting him any help up here might take some time. The weather will close in as soon it will be nightfall...'' ''But you gotta do something..He could die for Christs sake..!'' Jacobs moment of glee faded somewhat. ''My cabin is nearby.. It has a welcoming fireplace,some needed warmth..and i have a gift at helping those in need.. Don't worry my boy.I will take care of him..Of both of you till the morning breaks..'' Why was it for some reason that Jacob felt at ease with this guy..? ''Come boy, lets help your friend onto my sleigh..'' Jacob helped the stranger load Daniel onto the sleigh and wrapped him in the furs and the red cover. ''On Blitzen..'' And with that command the sleigh set off through the snow. Part 4 The snow was falling heavily by the the time the old Outdoorsmans sleigh, carrying Daniels prone body, had reached his cabin deep in the pine forest.''Come help me take your friend inside'' prompted the old man to Jacob who for a moment stood dithering.. Together they propped up the board Daniel lay on and carried him into the cabin..''We'll put him on the couch by the fireplace to keep him warm as he recovers..'' said the old man as he nudged the wooden door open and nodded in the direction of a wood framed low couch cushioned with soft woolen pillows and earthen coloured woolen blankets that was placed in front a large stone set fireplace with a high mantlepiece and several thick logs already burning welcomingly in the wide fireplace. The old outdoorsman and Jacob carefully lay Daniel down on the couch and covered him with the woolen blankets..''Do you have a phone in the cabin so we can at least try and call for some rescue.. Daniel might have some kind of bad head injury.?'' saidJacob as he scanned the large interior of the cabin looking for any sign for a link to communications to the nearest town. He could not readily seen any.The kindly old man spoke up ''I'm afraid with this blizzard howling,it may not be till morning until we can seek help for your friend here..". He stood up after making Daniel as comfortable as possible. He could see the worry in Jacobs handsome face.''Don't be worried. I'm certain that he will pull through with my help. I have, lets say, a certain magic about me that may aid my tending of his wounds that i know are not as grave as you fear..'' Jacob fidgeted uncomfortably over Daniel. ''How can you be so sure..?'' ''Oh don't worry..I have a had plenty of time on this earth to gather some good enough medicinal knowledge.....a few centuries at least..!'' said Nick as he headed away through an adjoining door to another room,but hesitated before passing through to glance back at the boy "Oh,my name is Nicholas by the way.." Jacob did'nt click to Nicholas' last few words.he just shuffled slightly,answering his and Daniels name clearly distracted with worry,to pay attention fully to what Nicholas had just said. Finally relaxing a little,his eyes had wandered off Dan for once as he looked around the cabin,noticing boughs of evergreen holly spotted with ruby red berries,and trails of cut Ivy and Fir branches hanging along the inner eaves or hooked onto the pine log walls. The cabin itself felt welcoming with its natural light wood furnishings and plaid red and green textiles and curtains,a plush fur-like rug positioned between the caramel upholstered three-piece suite placed around a low oak trunk coffee table...In all, a traditional family cabin in the forest.. Dan stirred and groaned,drawing back Jacobs attention, just as Nick returned from the kitchen with a red cloth draped over his shoulder,carrying a tray with a clay bowl full of steaming liquid and what looked to be a clay mortar and pestle to which he set down on a small stool next to Daniel. ''Whats that..?'' queried Jacob, as Nick dampened the cloth in the warm water,the steam wafting up to Jacob and the smell reminded him of spices.. ''Oh, its a remedy that will fix any injuries he might have taken to his head..'' Nick dabbed the cloth over Daniels forehead,then folded it it and lay it like a cold cure remedy across his forehead,propping Dans head up on a pillow.. Dan responded with a groan in his semi-conscious state. ''You think that some kind of homeopathic medicines like this can cure him of a brain injury, just like that..?'' said Jacob finding Nicks simple home medicinal deeds a little incredulous.. 'Nick just smiled ''Have faith my friend''. Jacob watched with uncertainty as Nick pulled out a small cloth bag tied with string from his inside pocket,unfastened the string and gently poured the powdery contents into the 'pestle'..cup and then poured a little of the bowls liquid into it,grinding and stirring it up with the mortar.. For a moment,Jacob thought he could see the powder glitter like stardust but shook his head. Nick gently lifted Daniels head and eased the cup to his lips,trying to stir him enough into a moment of consciousness for him to drink the contents.''Come on buddy, drink up...come on,...this will make you feel better'' Daniel weakly opened his mouth and took several slow sips of the water before Nick rested his head back. Jacob glanced out of the window hoping the snow had lessened. It had'nt one bit.. But through the blizzard,towards the shelter where Nick had placed his Reindeer,he could see another one nuzzling against Blitzen,and for a brief moment he thought he could see a faint red glow near its nose. 'Fuck,...i must be tripping.!' he thought, rubbing his eyes before looking out and now just seeing two ordinary Reindeer in the shelter. When he turned around,Jacob nearly jumped out of his skin.. Nick was standing right next to him,smiling..''I have given your friend a something to help him heal,not just his physical wounds but the wounds to his emotions as well..A little sleep will help him out'' He followed Jacobs gaze out the window across to the the deer shelter.''Oh thats just Rudy,..he helps me find my way on certain foggy nights.'' Jacob suddenly remembered Nicks comments about 'centuries of experience..!' ,and a thought came across his mind.'No, thats just rediculous..'' he said as he shook the thought out of his head.Nick just smiled at him as he let Jacob realise just who he was..''No..no, this is just too stupid.. You can't be...'' Jacob was placing the small things together.. A jolly,white bearded old fellow called Nick,in a sleigh drawn by a Reindeer called Blitzen,..and another called Rudy...RUDOLPH..!'' Then as the realisation dawned on just who he was speaking to, Jacob stumbled back,almost tripping over the armrest of the couch Dan now lay asleep.. ''You can't be him..!'' he said,wide-eyed. Nicks face seemed suddenly radiant and his eyes all twinkly in the light of the roaring fire. ''Who would you call me..?'' ''Santa Claus..!'' said Jacob,mouth agape like a catfish. ''Santa,Father Christmas,Pere Noel,Kris Kringle...St,Nicholas..whatevers suited best..!'' said Nick.. ''What are you doing way out here in the forest..?'' said Jacob,trying to find some kind of rational answer for this amazing situation. ''Christmas Eve is not for a few days. Even i'm entitled to a little R&R..!'' ''But if you are such a magical being,then why can't you just make this storm stop and whisk us on your flying sleigh off to the nearest town..?''Jacob said,sobering up to this strange reality. ''Its not as simple as that..I do'nt really control the weather..Why'd you think i'd ask a Reindeer with his 'nose so bright' to guide my sleigh on foggy nights..?'' They both glanced out of the window across to the deer shelter where Rudys nose was now shining brightly red..affirming the unbelievable situation Jacob was now in.. ''I'm just as stuck here til morning as you,my young friend.'' And,reading Jacobs face he added before the boy said anything. ''..And though i can heal people of most wounds, i cannot heal them just like that..'' Nick emphasised the last word by clicking his fingers..''Healing someone takes a lot of my energy..'' Jacob started pacing up and down. ''This is just too freaky..!'' Nicholas moved to stop Jacobs pacing by gently holding onto his arm. ''..But there is something i can do for you both..'' Jacob glanced down at Daniel then at Nicholas. ''What..?'' '' I know your heart is heavy with the lack of love and companionship. You have felt betrayed by those you thought loved you dearly. But if he finds it in his own heart to love again,you will find him a dear and committed partner..'' Nicholas glanced down at Daniel and Jacob knew.. ''But we have only just met.. And this guy is dealing with the grief of losing someone he loved.. What am i to him..?'' ''You can be the one to make him feel love again,to heal that sorrow.'' Feeling a little awkward, Jacob spoke what was on his mind..''But he is not really my type of guy..'' ''Oh,but once he finds his way,he will become 'your type'.. But love is not all based upon looks..Its whats in the heart.'' Jacob smiled. ''I stopped believing in you a long time ago. In my childhood i did not havethe greatest of times at Christmas..'' ''I know Jacob. When you stopped believing,there was no room for me..And for my part i was foolish to neglect you.. If there is a gift i could bestow upon you i will gladly offer it..?'' ''Well, theres one thing i've wanted.. What i've been training to become..''Jacob said furtively. Nicholas smiled knowingly..''You are training to become a top class bodybuilder. Bigger muscles...hmmm, not a gift i've often if ever granted, but,lets give it a try....'' On A Cold Winters Night : A Christmas Tale. Part 5 Daniel eyes were closed but yet he could see bright light through his lids..With a stretch of his body and a yawn he stirred into consciousness,slowly opening his eyes,and at first unaccustomed to such bright sunlight which greeted him.. Although his hearing was the first sense that kicked in... to the sounds of birds chirupping somewhere close by.When his sight finally cleared he took in his surroundings.He was laying on green grass beneath a huge old English Oak tree,feeling a gentle warm breeze blow across his exposed chest,..which soon sharpened his senses when he realised he was lying almost naked except for a pair of sky blue boxers. As he sat up he became aware of someone else sitting just behind him.Looking around at first he could not see the person,such was the brightness of the sun behind him,but as he let his eyes focus,when he saw just who was beside him his face went ashen white and his jaw fell agape.. ''Ah, Danny-boy, enjoy your little siesta..'' There,looking back at him with a radiant smile was Jeff,shirtless and revealing a smooth slender gym-toned torso.. With the bright sun haloed directly behind his head he looked like an Angel..! Daniels heart lept into his mouth and he felt like a dam was gonna burst full of tears. ''Jeff,but but...'' Daniel began to stutter,reeling with mixed feelings and emotions,hoping what he was seeing was'nt just a figment of his imagination.. Jeff quietly shushed him with a finger against Daniels lips,one hand holding a glass of champagne from a picnic laid out before them. ''Come now Daniel, my love...'' but Jeff could'nt finish... Daniel threw his arms around Jeff and drew him into an unbearably tight hug,causing Jeff to spill the champagne. ''Jeff, i've missed you so much it hurts..'' Daniel was unabashedly crying now,sobbing against Jeff bare muscled shoulder.. ''Everything will be alright now Daniel'' Jeff replied,placing the glass down and reciprocating the hug. ''You died.. Is it this heaven...Did i die..?'' Daniel,full of emotions just sputtered out questions ramdomly and rushedly to Jeff. Jeff hushed him. And they released each other from their embrace..Dans eyes never left Jeff,scanning him from his handsome face to his alluring bare torso.. ''Whats ahppened to you, you look so irresistably sexy and more toned than i could ever remember you..?'' Jeff just smiled,passed Daniel a glass of champagne and peered out from the Oak tree on the crest of a hill where they sat,taking in the wide open richly beautiful countryside around them..birds singing in the air and in the trees,butterflies fluttering across patches of flowers around them..the smell of pollen wafting in the air,...a church bell gently ringing from a spire that stood high above the red roofed cotswold stone cottages of a village in the near distance,nestled by a winding river glinting under the sunlight. ''You remember this place Daniel. Much Markham,England.We came here the summer..'' Jeff paused,smiling back at a beaming Daniel, who took a sip of the champagne,..before continuing.''...the summer before i died.'' He could see the smile fade on Daniels face.''Then are we dead... This IS heaven..Am i finally with you.?'' Jeff cupped Daniels face with his hand and then gently stroked the side of his face lovingly.. ''You are not dead.. I brought you here to this one place from your memory that held so much happiness and romance to you..'' Jeff paused again,noticing Daniels eyes begin to well up.. ''You were in an car accident during a harsh winters blizzard. There was a young man with you in your car but he is alright. A man of kind heart and warmth had found you both near the wreck and he took you to his cabin to tend to the wounds you have..'' Dans face showed signs of disappointment that his time with Jeff was not to be, and tears rolled down his cheeks.'' ''It is imperative that you find the will to carry on and fight to survive..'' Jeff said with such passion. 'But i want to be with you. Fuck my life.. My life is with you..'' Dans arm reached up and swept around and drew in the surroundings. ''Here is where i want to be with you..!'' Jeff smiled softly and he leaned in and gave Dan a short but loving kiss. ''Its not your time..'' Daniel broke in. ''No,..it IS my time.. What have i got to live for,without you..?'' ''You have everything to live for.'' Jeff replied sternly,cupping Dans head gently with both hands,framing his saddened face.. 'Listen to me...Its not your time...I will ALWAYS be with you..'' Jeffs hand reached down and he touched Daniel on his chest,above his heart.''..in here..!'' Daniel could see the sincerity and the truth inside Jeff emerald green eyes, as Jeff continued.. ''You remember that boy in the car with you,don't you....Jacob,the hitchhiker..?'' Jeff said knowingly. Dan nodded slightly in acknowledgement. ''You will find happiness with him,i know.. You will find the strength to carry on and to enjoy life again.. He himself has needed to find that kindred spirit,that endearing love to share, someone to make his own life better and worthwhile after the traumas of the short life he has had so far..'' Jeff could see the spark of doubt in Dans sorrowful eyes ''Believe me,this young man is more like me than you know.. He reminds me,...of me, when i was his age...Young,virile,...up for anything...Fit and healthy with a body that yearned of dedication and commitment from gym work-outs that i was too lazy to keep up..'' Dans spirit was picked up by this memory of their past,with the period when they both went through the ''gym bunny'' phase but could'nt keep up with sweat and toil of keeping their bodies in absolute perfection.. not that either of them were out of shape by their mid forties..! ''I remember,..but i'm 'getting on a bit now for all that muscle mary stuff.'' ''You're fifty,..not ninety..!'' replied Jeff,gently swatting Dan across the top of his head.. ''But i can help you with that.. Just promise me you will live,..that you will move on..?''. Daniels mind reeled. His heart was torn by the thought of never seeing jeff again,..of forgetting even what he looked like as time progressed. Jeff leaned in and gave Dan another short kiss.''I will always be with you in some form or another, in that big heart of yours,...in Jacobs eyes..'' Dan finally smiled again..''You said you can help me with my physique..?'' as he pulled Jeff in for a warm embrace and a more passionate kiss,his hands roaming across Jeffs tight six pack abs and smooth hairless chest. ''Oh yes,...just let your love flow..'' Jeff said between their increasingly erotic touching and petting. ''Stealing lines from the Bellamy Brothers..?'' Dan replied with a slight humourous grin, before both became pre-ccupied with lust. .... Up there, on that hill, a piece of Jeff flowed into Daniel,filling his heart with love, and filling his body with new found vigour...and youth. As they made love,the last vestiges of clothes discarded in passion..with each thrust of Jeffs cock into Daniel,Dan grew younger,more stronger.. His greying hair darkening into black like ink was being dyed into it.. The winkles of age and worry smoothening out and as the years ebbed backwards away,his face took on a beautiful male model look. Deep ice blue eyes framed with thin broad lightly arching eyebrows and a narrower slight upturned nose that gave him a cute elfin appeal. His rough lips becoming soft and moist and fuller,a potential for Dan to become a great kisser and great at something else he could wrap those luscious lips around..! With a slightest of pucker of those lush lips he could exude sexual sultriness that could make anyone who desired him,swoon weakly. A few days shadow of stubble on his chin just made him all the more sexier.. And the change did'nt end there.. As Jeffs angelic body pressed against his lover. As his tending hands took to every curve and course of Dans naked torso and arms, Daniel seemed to be invigorated with new found strength which then flowed increasing size into his smooth muscles. A tease of Jeffs fingers across Daniels once slight pecs of his lean chest,brought out their curves and rounding shapes. The flick of the fingers on Dans nipples hardened them and made Daniel groan with lust,adding more of Jeffs magic touch into Dans pecs that grew out thicker and fuller,becoming lightly dusted with soft dark curly hairs around his nipples,across the mounds and down into the deepening crevasse of his sternum between the growing muscles that grew from hillocks to heaving mountains. As one of Jeffs hands,now full of solid pec muscle,cupped it and tweaked at his nipples,Jeffs other hand flowed over Dans shoulders that rose into full broad slopes that framed a thicker lightly bullish neck,ever up till they nudged at his ear-lobes. The hand cupping Dans pecs,left to wander across the lean stomach that repsonded by ripping and tensing,and then his abs showing though,tightening,hardening into a solid six pack that rose like a tray of rolls in an oven.. Lines cut through sharply and defined the sensuous v shape towards his groin,like small rivulets eroding away at a bed of rocks that themsleves hardened even more and crunched together as Dan gently twisted and moved in the throes of passion..Two more hard blocks of abs arose,crunching together with the six,undulating like sand0dunes to finally reveal a shockingly cut 8-pack..Job done on those abs just awaiting someones tongue to lap way at the sweat that funneled down the cuts between each block like tiny streams to the present that would soon await at his groin.. With both hands now,Jeff ran them up the side of Dans bigger,heavier,mightier,manlier torso,up to his arm-pits,and making way for his lats to swell,to flare out of near non-existance,into huge wide-spreading slabs that pushed him up higher off the grass and stretching and broadening his back shockingly wide,like the hood of a cobra and arising the thought of 'barn door lats' to amazing reality. And those wide wide lats tapered down in a sexy v shape into an awesomely tight and narrow waistline. Out went the hands, over the shoulders,across delts filling out big round hard delts that could rugby tackle Trajans Column and knock it down to dust..Those magic hands of an angel passed down to the 'guns' that soon would be the hot top ticket to any 'gun show'.!Once lean sizeable but small biceps suddenly jumped alive as veins pulsed thickenly across the surface of the curves like water running through a firehose.. These veins plugged themselves into Dans bicpes and triceps and started to inflate them, to swell them rapidly from grapefruits to cantaloupe melons, swollen and engorged even fuller to cannonballs streaked with vascular pulsating electrodeds of veins. Biceps that soon reached 25 inches,and tri's that hung thick and hard,...to forearms so ripped and burgeoning like he could rip up a sequoia. Jeff pushed his cock into Dans tight hole as he felt up along Dans legs draped up over his shoulders.. Thighs that seemed to flex,and grow then swell with each flex until they were full of muscle and framing Jeffs head and seemed to give added weight in them as they grew tree trunk thick full of muscle.. Calves that bulged and bloated and tighly ripped.. Thick sinewy bulging leg muscles powerful enough Dan would look like he could dead-lift a bull Elephant..! With each thrust of Jeffs thick cock,he could feel Dan ass respond by clenching tighter against the sodomising intrusion, clamping at the cock as it slid in and out as the growth flowed into his glutes,raising them up,filling them out and gradually endowing Dan with a sexy curvaceous bubble butt. The final gift to Dan, was the growth in his genitals. In the throes of lust,Dans cock had arose into its solid,rigid erection of 7 inches,but now,that erection throbbed even harder,and with each throb,engorged even thicker and fuller,and longer.. It was growing like Daniels own Trajans column without the motifs.. The few veins streaking up along the hard shaft like old thick dry jungle roots creeping over ancient Cambodian ruins to cap a big flaring pinkish-purple glans oozing pre-ucm out of the slit like a tree oozing sap. And his balls too had grown low and heavy in their sac.. Full bloated with cum,lolling weightily like soft medicine balls between his upstretched legs.. .................................................. ............................................... In the cabin, if Jacob was not with St.Nick in a nearby room,for once risking a chance away from Daniel laying under the woolen blankets on the couch, he would have seen the wounds gradually healing themselves. He would have seen Daniel sleeping soundly,covered in a light sheen of sweat,not from the heat of the fire..He would have seen Daniels face looking calm and serene.. ...He would have seen Daniel growing under that warm welcoming blanket,obscuring the gentle swelling of his muscles....the invigoration of youth flooding back into his face,his body,his hands..The arousal of his cock as Daniel dreamt his life-changing dream. ....But Jacob would'nt be left out.. Not for long.. After all, Nick,...Santa Claus had promised him his Christmas gift.. ....But thats for the last part, the healing of wounds,the finding of love. ==================================================================
  5. The Power of the Titan : Part Three

    After what seemed like hours, Porthos’s body was racked with pain. His arms and legs were on fire, his chest was heaving and he was breathing hard. His heart was pounding and he was sweating like a pig but still he was denying the Cardinal his triumph. Another bolt of pain produced another scream and Porthos could feel his arms and legs burning in pain. He knew that he could never give up and yet in the back of his mind he wondered if he should die, but realised that would give the Cardinal his ultimate triumph. Another bolt of pain woke him up to the fact that he had to escape. However as he was planning on his escape, the Cardinal entered. “So” he said, “do you have anything to say?” Porthos closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “I defy you!” he grunted and with that he pulled on his restraints. Slowly but surely, the wheel at the top of the device started to turn and despite the torturer’s best efforts, the pain in Porthos’s arms and legs started to recede and as it did, Porthos’s strength increased. The Cardinal realised that unless he did something and quickly, the giant would be free and so took a flaming torch from one of the walls and held it aloft. “You will die!” he said, and with that lit a rope. Porthos watched the rope caught fire and followed it to the end and gasped as he saw the ceiling was full f spears all attached to a frame so that when the rope burnt through it would pierce anyone on the rack. Porthos knew it was a race against time and redoubled his strength. As he pulled against the restraints, a bulge developed in his loincloth. The bigger the bulge got, the more intense Porthos’s breathing got, the more intense the breathing got, the harder Porthos pulled. After a few moments, the loincloth gave up it’s struggle and ripped to reveal Porthos’s own spear which was already tipped with a dribble of liquid. The sight disgusted the Cardinal and he left the room, but the torturer was intrigued and gingerly touched the spear. Porthos moaned and his pull relaxed. He had never experienced these feelings before. He felt powerful, weak, strong, timid and aroused all at the same time. The torturer grabbed the spear and started to rub hard. Porthos's mind whirled with images of Hercules breaking free of chains, Samson bringing down the temple and even his own incredible feats of strength. The faster the torturer rubbed, the harder his spear got and the harder his spear got the stronger he got. Porthos suddenly roared and pulled the restraints so hard that the rack broke under the strain and Porthos was free. He jumped off the rack and wrestled the torturer to the ground just as the rope snapped and the spears crashed to the ground. Porthos rolled onto his back to find that he had crushed the torturer who was lying on the ground, clearly in agony. As Porthos was about to leave, the torturer gasped, “Hail Porthos, the strongest man to live!”. *** Porthos reported his tale to Captain Treville who noted his report with concern. Whilst he was pleased that Porthos had escaped and not revealed any information, the fact that the Cardinal was now willing to use torture was a frightening development. Porthos replied with a smile saying “Whilst I am a Musketeer, no one will be able to beat us!” with that he thumped his chest, saluted and walked out of the Captain office looking for D'Artangan, the newest recruit to the King's Musketeers and a man almost as much in awe of Porthos's strength as Porthos. As he did, he felt his spear start to bulge and hoped that the new recruit would not be frightened of his request which he repeated in his mind over and over again. "Punish me, D'Artangan. Punish me and reveal my strength!" The End???
  6. The Other Side of Our Minds

    ‘Will you stop trying to molest me Justin, I wish I never told you about that story now.’ The curious 20-year-old college student has been hitting on his older 22-year-old roommate for several months. Braxton mentioned to Justin one night while the two guys were in their bedroom after having a few drinks that he was visited by an older man the night he turned 18. He was a freshman in college and didn’t really know anyone that went there. The man was dressed incredibly well in a nicely tailored suit from top to bottom. At the time, Braxton’s roommate was visiting family so he wasn’t around which left the young student all alone. The man showed up at the front steps of the dormitory that Braxton was staying in. It so happened that the teenager was outside standing and talking on his phone. When he finished his phone call, he turned to go back inside but not before this man stops him. ‘Hello there Braxton mind if I have a few words with you.’ With a puzzled look on his face, the 18-year-old stares at the man and wonders how the hell he would know his name. ‘Uhhh, I don’t know who you are and I don’t want to buy what you are trying to sell to me so…..*stops to think*…..how did you know my name?’ The man smiles and proceeds to walk towards him up the stairs into the front lobby. Braxton starts to move backwards inside before he is about to scream. The man grabs his arm and holds him in place. The scared teenager freezes as the man puts his arms around Braxton’s back. ‘Shhh, I’m not here to hurt you buddy, you are ready to graduate to the next chapter in your life. You obviously don’t remember anything about me since you are so surprised to see me. Unfortunately, restraining you right now is the only thing I can do to get your attention.’ Braxton tries to scream but nothing comes from his voicebox. He grabs it with both hands and looks around to see if anyone notices. There isn’t a soul there probably because it is after midnight now. The man takes him over to one of the chairs sitting on the balcony beside the entrance to the dorm and tells him to sit down. The man pulls up another chair and sits in front of Braxton. He takes a few deep breaths and looks the young man in the eyes. ‘Okay…..when you were 12 Braxton, you were in an accident. As you lay dying in that hospital bed, your mind and soul took a journey to a place not many have ever been to before. That plane of existence is where I reside. You were not sure why you had the feelings you did back then since you were on the verge of becoming a teenager. Your soul latched on to me Braxton and wanted to learn what to do next which I was obliged to do. You were unaware that your body was healing with my assistance.’ ‘That wasn’t the only thing I was helping you with either. *clasps his hands in Braxton’s* Your cock and balls for the first time that day started to function in a more mature fashion. You had your first orgasm in that hospital bed and it was amazing.’ Braxton rips his hands away from the man and jumps up. He rushes towards the front lobby doors and turns around. ‘I don’t fucking know what you are talking about man, I don’t ever want to remember that day ever again…..’ The man stops him midway through his thought. ‘Braxton…..you know who I am because you made me look the way you always wanted your fantasy man to look like. You always wanted to be with an older man around your dad’s age because you have talked about it every night before you go to bed. Even now at this school, you mention me and dream about me.’ The teenager goes inside and down the hall before he stops by one of the night auditors. ‘Is everything alright Braxton? You seem flustered and a bit…..sweaty.’ He turns and notices that the man is right behind him, but the auditor doesn’t see him. Braxton thinks for a moment and speaks. ‘I just went on a run, I’m alright.’ ‘Okay, remember that you must be in before midnight though during the week.’ The auditor turns and walks back to the front desk. Braxton gets into the nearby elevator as the man follows him inside. ‘He doesn’t see you. Who are you?’ *reaches to feel the man’s thick muscular chest which strains against his satin dress shirt* The man reaches over to push the stop button on the elevator and pulls Braxton in to him. He grabs the teen’s hands and rubs them up and down his chest as he stares into his eyes. The teen is in awe of the man’s incredible muscles that he feels underneath the fabric. The man’s groomed black fur on his face and neck is exactly what he envisioned in the dreams he has had since he was 12. ‘You know who I am Braxton. I’m your Matt that you have formed in your mind, well at least physically. I can also sense something else going on in your mind.’ Matt lets out a few growls as Braxton hears a few rips coming from the man’s body. His body appears to be growing a little bit as his shirt splits down the middle of his back along with his suit jacket. His thick hairy pecs shred the front of the shirt slightly as they are now visible. The teenager lets out a few moans. He reaches in to feel the hairy swollen muscles that feel soft to the touch. ‘Hold on there buddy, look down. GRRR!’ *winks* Matt’s quads swell up to the point that his suit pants look painted on. The seams rip enough to where the thick hairy slabs jut out the sides. The surprised teen leans down to run his hands along each bump and curve. He lightly moans feeling the thick forest of hair sitting on top of both tree trunks. While he is down there, Braxton feels a lot of heat radiating from the center of Matt’s pants. The big man grunts as his crotch grows thicker and longer. The young teen can’t seem to take his eyes off of it hearing noises coming from within. ‘Go ahead buddy, put your hand up to it, you are compelling me to grow.’ Braxton runs his hands along the crease of Matt’s shaft. The huge pole pulses against his hand as he finally gives in to it a little to lay his head against it. The big man reaches down to pet the teen’s head and hair before telling him to look up. ‘You are the reason I am like this Braxton. My body is what your mind created and is creating as we are in here right now. I know my muscles are turning you on greatly as I sense it in you. There is a part of you that was longing for this day to come. Now that I am here, it is time for you to take the next step and enter into the next stage of your life Braxton.’ The dazed teen slowly moves Matt’s cock around before he unzips his pants and swallows the huge pole down his throat. He sucks on it lovingly making the big man groan deeply. Braxton looks up and smiles as he starts to feel the need for Matt to grow again. More popping comes from the big man’s body as his pants completely shred and fall down to the ground. His immense chest finishes off the rest of his dress shirt as he yanks it off and throws it to the other side of the elevator. He growls and does a most muscular for Braxton as his jacket nearly disintegrates under the incredible mass forming on his body. This makes the young man moan even louder as he tastes a river of precum flowing down into his belly. ‘RAWR! Yeah buddy, you are making me want to rage Braxton. If you continue on this path, I won’t be able to hold back. I enjoy it because you enjoy it of course.’ The young student grabs Matt’s immense ass and snaps the waistband off freeing up the last remaining fabric from his body. His socks and dress shoes explode under the pressure of his growing feet. Braxton moans as he continues to gulp at the big man’s powerful rod as it lengthens and slides further down inside the teen’s throat. Matt reaches his incredibly massive arms out to brace himself against the elevator walls which are now creaking. ‘Mmmmm buddy…..this is about to get really dangerous though Braxton. Stay close to me.’ Matt’s huge frame is now as wide as the elevator now as his head starts to go through the ceiling. Debris begins falling down as the growing man laughs destroying the walls and lights which explode against his hairy stone skin. Braxton sucks even harder and faster tasting the ooze draining inside him as Matt roars in delight. He raises his massive left arm up to grab the cables above his head while gripping Braxton in his right arm. He lifts the young man up with him who still has his mouth locked on to the huge pole residing in his throat. ‘It feels absolutely incredible Braxton. Keep sucking buddy while I get both of us to safety up at the top of this dorm.’ The giant continues climbing up the cables with one arm as he feels his cock and balls getting closer to the edge. They are now swelling to the point that they are turning a purplish-red color. Matt stops moving up the cable to compose himself for a few seconds making Braxton come up for air as the giant’s huge cock bounces furiously spraying several jets of precum down inside the elevator car below them. The huge stud flexes his entire body enhancing the feeling from within while growling in delight. ‘Make me cum Braxton you really do have quite a wild streak from within your mind. It will be the biggest load you have ever seen in your life.’ Holding on to Matt’s waist as much as possible, the student strokes the giant’s cock in a strong even fashion knowing that the volcano will erupt at any time. The monster’s massive legs and quads move with the rhythm as they thrust faster with each stroke. Matt starts to climb upwards again feeling the tension from inside his balls building up again as his testicles cannot grow anymore otherwise they will rip through the sack. ‘SHIT! OHHHH FUCK BRAXTON, look out. I am going to coat this whole place.’ Braxton moves his head as Matt’s piss slit stretches to its limits before launching a giant wave of cum fifty feet into the air before it lands onto the nearby tunnel wall. The giant continues swiveling his lower body still able to hold on to the cable as his body pours sweat down on to the lower elevator car. Yet another giant stream of cum goes flying from Matt’s huge cock and finds its way down at the bottom of the tunnel. Braxton now moves back into the huge pole’s path and awaits the third jet as he opens his mouth. Matt roars in laughter still thrusting his quads in the eager young man’s face. ‘You want this kind of power too don’t you buddy…..yeah I know you do…..I have always known that you wanted this. Well you will get your wish Braxton, open wide little man!’ The student sticks his tongue out as another huge jet of cum hits him in the face and coats his shirt and pants. He locks his mouth on top of the huge pole and chokes as the cum continues to shoot out of the giant’s cock and down Braxton’s chest and lower body. Matt smiles at him and can feel the young man gulping down tons of cum craving what he has always dreamed about. The big man waits until all of the cum has left his body before he starts to climb again. Braxton moans caressing his lover’s immense ass and licks the sides of Matt’s cock getting every drop he might have missed. The student’s stomach is so swollen that it pushes his shirt all the way up above it. He literally looks pregnant. Matt laughs again as he feels the round protrusion up against his legs. ‘I think you have had enough to drink Braxton. Let’s get out of here before something else happens.’ After a couple more minutes, they finally reach the top. Matt busts through the top by putting his fist through the steel and concrete. He finds the roof and looks down at Braxton. ‘You trust me right Braxton?’ He then lifts them both up onto the roof and falls over to rest. Braxton lets go of his waist and does the same thing. After calming down, the giant gets up and goes to stand over his young lover. The student’s stomach remains bloated from the massive amount of cum he consumed. Matt helps him up so he can talk to him. ‘Well, what are you waiting for Braxton? *waves his arms* You consumed enough muscle building protein to probably take this building down.’ Braxton wonders what he is supposed to do. Matt looks him straight in the eyes and says to just concentrate his energy on him. The student’s breathing increases as his body begins to react. His stomach slowly empties as his legs and feet start growing. His jeans split immediately as his shoes explode under the sheer mass that is being added. His muscles make quick work of his shirt as his back cracks several times trying to accommodate the incredible amount of muscle that keeps piling on top of their selves. The young teenager that was there just a minute before is completely gone now as Braxton matures right in front of Matt’s eyes. The big young stud roars in ecstasy as he feels completely reborn. He flexes his massively round muscles trying to show off in front of Matt who just laughs. He flexes his muscles back at Braxton as they both grunt at each other. The roof creaks under their feet as they take a few huge steps around. Matt eventually gets behind his young lover and wraps his arms around him. He then throws Braxton to the ground and starts wrestling him. They grunt and groan rubbing their slick hairy muscled bodies together until they eventually just decide to stop. After a few minutes, Matt moves down to his partner’s lower body and starts to toy with Braxton’s thick meaty cock. ‘You worked me over really well Braxton, now it is my turn buddy.’ After being edged by Matt several times the young behemoth finally launches his cum volcano into the air as it floats over the side of the building and coats several of the dorm student’s cars. Braxton quickly moves himself to the edge of the building and shoots several more jets of cum hitting nearby streets and sidewalks. They both laugh hysterically until Braxton finishes cumming. Matt puts his arm around his young lover and kisses his lips. They embrace each other and moan as they calm down. ‘Well that’s it buddy. I’ve done all I can do for you at this point, but I will be back soon don’t you worry.’ Matt vanishes a few seconds later. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ ‘Are you fucking serious Braxton? I mean…..I knew that you nearly died and all but this Matt guy just sounds like some kind of fantasy.’ ‘And I would agree with that assessment Justin, but he is very real. He helped me learn how to control it after that night. It wasn’t the only time we were together either.’ Justin tries to rub his roommate’s crotch again which makes Braxton quite irritable. ‘DAMNIT JUSTIN! I am not going to grow for you. I am not Bruce Banner it doesn’t work that way.’ ‘So what triggers it then?’ Braxton knows what he is trying to do and doesn’t go for it. ‘HA! nice try there genius, but no clues.’ Justin finally gets up from Braxton’s bed and moves over to the bathroom to strip naked. His 10” cock is wet with precum which prompts the college student to rub it up and down his shaft to make it shiny. Braxton stares intently at it and is dumbfounded as to why he never saw Justin’s huge cock before. ‘Uhh Justin, I had no idea that you were so…..wow endowed.’ He can start to feel himself heating up quickly too. Before he can even try to control himself, his body starts to react. Justin can see the discomfort he is in and walks back over to him. He grins at Braxton and bounces his cock at him. ‘So you want this do you man? This is going to be fucking awesome.’ Once he stands directly in front of Braxton’s face, he slaps his cock on his roommate’s face and chest and watches in amazement as his gifted older roommate’s growing muscles rip, shred, and tear their way through his clothes and continue growing to unimaginable heights. Never in his wildest dreams did Justin think that this improbable story was true, but now he knows that Braxton’s near-death experience brought with it a powerful gift. In case you want to read another installment in the series: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3467-the-other-side-of-the-mirror/
  7. For continuity purposes, you may want to reread The Separations of An Unfortunate Man first: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2378-the-separations-of-an-unfortunate-man-dales-perspective/ ‘Hold on for a minute…..I have to get dressed. *whispers under his breath* Who in the hell would come to the door at six am? I sweat to gawd if it is Arlo I will…..’ Glenn Kapers slides his shorts on quickly after completing one of his cardio sessions. He wonders if he should put a shirt on or not since he isn’t sure who it could be so early at his front door. He takes his time getting to there and notices an older man with his back to him sort of standing in a fairly cocky stance. The man has a decent sized back tucked away inside a grey t-shirt. His legs are also nicely built hugging a tight pair of blue jeans. When he opens the door, the man turns around and smiles at him. The man’s greyish beard shines in the sun as his pearly whites look nearly perfect. It turns out to be his ex’s father Keith Holton. He looks down at Glenn’s sweaty chest as droplets cascade down his hairy pecs and abs. ‘Hello there Glenn just thought I would stop by and have a nice chat with you if you don’t mind.’ Glenn seems surprised by this and makes a strange face at him. ‘Uhhh okay…..I suppose you are needing to talk to me about Dale then? We are not dating anymore if that is what this is about.’ ‘No no…..well…..I know you two are still pretty close though so I thought I would come by and find out what he has been saying to you about our relationship.’ Once again Glenn looks at the older man and seems a bit confused as to what he means. ‘Mr. Holton, me and Dale do have a strong friendship, but I’m not sure what he has been telling me has anything to do with your relationship with him.’ Keith continues to smile at him occasionally making glances at the younger man’s bare chest and arms. Glenn sighs a little before putting one of his hands on the door frame. His sweaty arm glistens with sweat making Keith stare at it intently as the veins jump. ‘Can I come in for a little bit Glenn? You know me well enough that I’m not going to attack you right?’ The shirtless young man thinks for a few seconds before moving out of Keith’s way to allow him to come inside. The older man enters and walks into Glenn’s tv area before turning around to see if he is following. He sees him put a tank top on and makes a few unfavorable noises. Glenn hears him do this and stares him down. Keith cocks his mouth to the side of his face and shakes his head no. ‘Why are you really here Mr. Holton? You have been staring me down since you got here. I think your intentions are not exactly what you implied. Ohh and Dale has actually mentioned a few times lately how much you have been harassing him for no apparent reason.’ The older man starts walking towards him which prompts Glenn to start moving backwards himself towards the nearby wall. ‘I guess you are right Glenn, maybe my intentions are not exactly what they seem, at least on the surface.’ The mature man stops walking and stands about three feet from where Glenn is. He lets out a few moans and starts sweating from his head and neck. The young hairy stud turns to find a path away from Keith so that he doesn’t get cornered. The sweating increases on the older man as it dribbles down his chest and begins to soak the front and sides of his shirt. Glenn tries to find his cell phone on the nearby table to call Dale, but ends up dropping it on the ground. Keith hears it fall and looks at it. He chuckles a little as he turns his attention back up to Glenn again. He makes a few stretching motions as it appears that he is getting some kind of pump. The young stud goes into a defensive stance now in case he has to do something drastic. ‘Mr. Holton…..I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you but it appears that you are in some kind of distress. I think maybe you should go to the hospital or something before you get any worse.’ A few stretching sounds are starting to come from Keith’s body. Glenn hears them and can’t figure out why this is happening. He notices that Keith’s jeans look a lot tighter than they did before. Both legs sound like they are in vises as the denim is compressed to its limits. Keith looks down at them and grunts feeling the pressure building waiting for them to make their entrance. ‘Uhh…..maybe I should help you to your car…..’ Keith stops him mid-sentence and growls. ‘MMMMMM…..no Glenn…..*a few seams rip in both legs*…….ahhh…..I just want to show you…..*more seams rip as his emerging hairy quads start to reveal themselves* who I can become. The feeling is so fucking intoxicating. *the rest of the seam rips as his quads and hams break free still growing*’ Glenn is dumbfounded as to why this is even happening to Keith. He can feel his cock jumping though in his shorts which surprises him. The mature man can sense it too as he smiles and sees a little glimmer in Glenn’s eyes. ‘It is just starting sexy boy. *feels it moving down into his calves and feet* AHHH shit…..*his calves start growing and pressing against the rest of his pant legs* mmmmm fuck Glenn…..it shouldn’t feel this good…..*feels his feet growing and stretching the leather in his shoes until they start splitting*’ Glenn’s cock begins tenting in his pants which he quickly adjusts to make it sit off to the left side. It throbs incessantly as his balls begin to swell up with cum. He realizes that he has always had this thing for older men and muscles. He wishes though that it didn’t pertain to his ex’s dad, but he can’t hide it. Keith’s feet finally bust out of their confines and continue to thicken. His calves rip through the remaining seams along the sides of his jeans as his huge hairy lower half glistens. The young admirer cannot help but to see the huge bulge starting to swell in Keith’s crotch. The growing man moans loudly feeling the rush moving into his ass and balls. ‘OH FUCK! It never ceases to amaze me how fucking hung I get. *feels the seams in his ass and crotch starting to give way* MMMMMM BABY! You want to see what a real man’s cock looks like sexy, wait till you see mine.’ Keith’s crotch rips open revealing his soaked jock which is struggling to stay on his thickening frame. The seams in his ass rip open making him look behind to watch his glutes swelling and destroying the denim. The growth makes his waist thicken as the rest of his jeans rip completely off exposing his entire lower half except for his jock which is barely containing the enormous rod swelling from within the pouch. He sighs for a few moments as he turns his head back around and looks into Glenn’s eyes again. The young stud is mesmerized now as he stares down at Keith’s massive tree trunks. He can’t speak either as he scans the big man’s entire lower body. Keith gets a little bit of his composure back long enough to motion for Glenn to come to him. ‘Come here sexy boy. You don’t have to stand over there. You are getting to see the real me Glenn, well…..sort of. *tries to hold it back for a few more seconds* MMMMMM…..I can control it…..*feels it moving into his chest* to a point……ahhhh…..*feels his cock aching as it fills his jock with pre* gawd…..i love it when it gets to my chest…..*his abs start to widen and stretch*…..fuck yeah!’ Glenn grimaces feeling his cock welling up like it is about to burst. He doesn’t touch it but yet it feels like it is being stroked over and over again. He can see Keith’s stomach reshaping itself as his abs thicken up and stretch wider turning into huge tiles. The fur on them is now turning from salt and peppery to brown and black. The big man’s back is starting to pop now too as Glenn can see him gradually getting taller. His grey shirt begins rising up from his waist and stops once it gets to the top of his immense eight-pack. The young man is having trouble keeping his composure now as well as he spills a pile of precum on to the floor beneath his shorts. Keith is beginning to feel his mind wander now as he labors his breathing. ‘Uhhhh fuck yeah Glenn! I can’t hold back much longer…..*pecs begin expanding as his upper back and lats begin ripping his shirt* AHHH! *looks down and sees the puddle forming below Glenn’s shorts* Yeah sexy, get off on me. Dale can’t please you like daddy Keith…..*pinches his nipples as they start to emerge from his shirt* or…..*shirt shreds as his massive hairy pecs bust out* rather…..my younger half.’ He grunts feeling his shirt rip open in the front and back as his pecs and delts keep growing. He clenches his fists and feels them swelling as he watches the veins pumping bigger and wider. Glenn moans as he dumps several jets of cum into the floor. Seeing Keith’s forearms growing sets him off. The older man is now in sheer ecstasy straining as his arms grow thicker tearing their way through his shirt sleeves. He gasps feeling the muscles in his biceps and triceps stretching as well as the bloated veins. Glenn can’t take his eyes off of them watching the bulbs triple in size. ‘AHHH FUCKING YEAH! MMMMMM……*his shoulders and traps blow up in size destroying the remainder of his shirt* Glenn…..*feels his neck stretching as the veins and muscles grow wider* it is time for you to meet Kliff…..*his eyes go back into his head as his greyish facial hair changes to brownish black and the hair on his head does the same*’ Glenn continues to shoot cum on the ground and can’t seem to move. He doesn’t know what Keith meant when he said what he said and gets nervous. The huge muscleman in front of him continues to grunt as he opens his eyes. The young stud seems to remember that Keith’s eyes were brown, but now they are a deep green. He looks into them and feels like he is being put into a trance. He tries to resist the temptation to go over to him, but it is getting harder to fight. The man grins and reaches up to run his huge hands down his furry chest. Glenn moans and feels a bit lightheaded. The man sees this and rushes over to catch him before he falls. ‘I got you baby. *wraps his 23” cannons around Glenn’s back* Look at me hot stuff! *Glenn immediately looks up at him* I know you like your men hairy and huge, why don’t you go ahead and service this one. Dale won’t ever have to know. *winks before two loud snapping noises come from his huge hamstrings* Whoops! It looks like he will have to be given some attention too.’ The snapping that Glenn heard were the straps barely clinging to the big man’s hamstrings from his jock. As they give way, his huge cock falls out of his jock and dumps a huge stream of precum into the floor. He reaches down and gives it a few strokes getting it all wet and shiny. Glenn’s eyes grow wide staring at the huge hairy rod as it pulses. The huge man directs his attention back to his face again. ‘Hehe, unlike Keith I am a little more nurturing. I’m not just going to plow you and leave like he would. I have wanted to get to know you for a while baby. Keith just wanted to fuck with you because of Dale, but I wouldn’t let him. Now that I have control, I will do what I want.’ He leans down to slowly kiss Glenn on the lips. This immediately leads to the young stud leaning against his huge chest and massaging it with his hands. The man flexes his abs and bounces his pecs for him as he runs his fingers up and down the hairy forest. This lasts for several minutes before Glenn stops to ask him a question. ‘Who are you? I mean…..*seems confused* how is this happening?’ The huge man smiles at him and hugs him burying Glenn’s face into his hairy pecs. The young stud quickly finds his nipples and nurses them. They both moan deeply before the hairy behemoth pulls Glenn’s shorts off and rubs his cock up against his hole. The young admirer licks the hair between the man’s abs and kisses each one individually before running his tongue between both pecs and kissing his shelf which prompts the huge behemoth to squeeze him before speaking again. ‘I’m Kliff Templeton. Keith tries to keep me hidden because he thinks he can somehow keep me under control. Of course the problem with that is, once he lets me take over his body, the desire for growth overrides him so I just come at him full force and he can’t stop me. I still haven’t figured out how to hold him back though so he generally wins after just a few hours.’ Glenn looks up at Kliff’s face with lust in his eyes. The big man sees this and starts pushing his cock inside the eager bottom. He starts fucking Glenn with a lot of intensity as he pushes the young stud’s head into his heaving chest again. This goes on for several minutes before Kliff stops to kiss him again. Glenn is unable to resist any kind of advance the big man makes. The big hairy goliath pumps his arms making them bulge so that the young man will worship them. He grunts each time Glenn runs his tongue along the massive bulbs. He starts fucking him again and stops before his balls unload into his cock. He looks at Glenn again. ‘I know that Dale never told you about me and that was probably the right thing to do. The thing is though he also has a secret of his own. You see…..he has the same gift baby. Keith just has me, but Dale was imbued with two other souls. I know this because I can sense them when he is with his dad.’ Glenn is shocked by this and wonders how Dale was able to keep them from ever coming out. ‘Good question Glenn. Dale has more restraint I think. I’m sure though there have been times that he wanted to let them out with you. I know being with you right now that you deep down crave feeling muscle in and out of you. *bounces his pecs and flexes his biceps* Ohh and of course something else too.’ Kliff thrusts inside Glenn several more times before finally pumping the young stud full of cum. The sheer force makes him grip the massive man’s back. He laughs a little before leaning down to kiss Glenn deeply. This lasts for a few minutes. When Kliff finally finishes cumming, he pulls out and tells the young man to move up so he can slap his cock on his pecs. ‘I know you love these mountains Glenn, why don’t you dump some snow on them.’ *smiles* The young man moans and knows exactly what he means. He starts to stroke quickly but Kliff stops him after a few seconds. He redirects Glenn’s hands to his own biceps and tells him to feel them flexing and straining as he works his cock. The big man slowly works the young stud’s cock with both hands making Glenn agonize over the incredible sensation. After a few strokes in, Kliff runs his tongue over the piss slit lapping up the precum and moaning before going back to stroke it again. ‘You taste incredible baby, now feed my body. My pecs are hungry and want you to coat them.’ The big man works his lover’s cock with more authority as he feels it getting ready to burst. Glenn yells in delight as he sprays Kliff’s face and chest with several jets of cum. The hairy behemoth licks the cum off his beard with his tongue as he bounces his pecs which are now drenched in jizz. He stops stroking Glenn and pulls him in to kiss him and shove his tongue down the young stud’s throat. They embrace and lay on the floor together. After a few minutes of Kliff massaging Glenn’s body, the young man drifts off to sleep in his arms. The big stud gets up with Glenn in his pythons and places him in a chair in the tv area. Once he can see that the young man is in place, he kisses him again and turns to go out the front door. The exhausted young stud awakens minutes later and sees that Kliff is gone. He wonders if it was all just a dream or maybe just maybe it really happened. The next time he sees Dale, he will have to question him just to see if it is indeed true. When he gets up from the chair, his eyes immediately go straight to the tattered clothes and puddles of pre on the floor. Could it be? For additional perspectives, don't forget to read about Jeremiah: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2394-the-secrets-of-an-unfortunate-stud-jeremiahs-perspective/ and Sam in the unfiltered section of the forum (WARNING: Has incest and a teen): http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2403-the-struggles-of-an-unfortunate-son-sams-perspective/
  8. Mass Hose by Infinite Muscle Part One Ever since I was a little kid I’d wanted to be big and muscular, and when I hit puberty, that desire increased drastically. In middle school I imagined growing to be the biggest bodybuilder in the world. I looked at pictures of bodybuilders in magazines and pictured myself looking like them. I made a scrapbook that had photos of my head pasted onto different bodybuilders’ bodies. I made drawings of myself with big muscles. I found pictures of bodybuilders on the net and photoshopped my head onto them. I spent hours envisioning myself becoming a future Mr. Olympia. I wanted to grow to be the biggest man ever to hold the title. Even that wasn’t enough. I began to think about impossible size, beyond the range of human scale. I was fixated on images like the Titans and ancient Greek and Roman gods, the Incredible Hulk, Conan the Barbarian, the Parasite from the Superman comic books, and Colossus. I dreamed of being like one of them. At thirteen, I was 5’9” and weighed 120 pounds. I got a cheap weight set from K-Mart. I began to lift weights two or three times a week in my bedroom. I gained a little muscle, and that made me much more confident when I got to high school, but the idea of being a real bodybuilder lingered in my mind. I kept working out, but not really heavily. I really didn’t know what I was doing. Near the end of tenth grade, I found some bodybuilding magazines at a garage sale in my neighborhood. I bought the whole box of them for four dollars. I’d seen some of them at the drug store before, Muscle and Fitness, Flex, Muscle Mag, but never actually read any of them. I had never seen Muscular Development or Planet Muscle before. The bodybuilders in MD looked HUGE! The diet and workout info in Planet Muscle was a revelation, at least to me. I decided to go for it that summer. I was just turning sixteen. I started to work out six days a week on a split routine, and my appetite shot through the roof. On My sixteenth birthday I’d put on twenty pounds of muscle since turning fourteen. I weighed 148 pounds at 5’10.” By seventeen I was at 165, pretty good for my small bone structure. By eighteen I was at 178, and looked like a boxer. When I went to college, I kept at it my freshman year, although a little more slowly, since I was busy with a double major and figuring out how to live on my own. By my nineteenth birthday, I’d hit 190. I had big biceps, decent lats, and shoulders like softballs, but my chest lagged a bit, and my legs were a little thin compared to my upper body. I was getting more and more enthralled with the sensation of my muscles bulging and pushing against each other, and I was determined to make it happen more and more, to amplify the feeling of mass and power. Sophomore year I picked up the pace a lot. I took a weight training class, and the coach was a powerlifter. We spent the first two weeks doing nothing but squats, deadlifts, and bench. I had never done deadlifts before, and had only played at doing squats. It was just as well I hadn’t done many squats, because my form would have injured me if I’d kept at it. But Coach Delaney made sure we were doing them right. I started to grow like mad. By Christmas I weighed 202. I was getting really big, my legs were caught up for the first time, and I felt awesome! I ate five or six times a day, and got stronger every workout. I kept with the routine I’d had in the class, and kept getting bigger. By the time I turned twenty at the end of that following summer, I weighed 215. I felt huge, like a real bodybuilder, for the first time in my life. I figured I’d just keep getting bigger and bigger, and end up looking like Branch Warren or Markus Ruhl. After that though, my gains slowed dramatically. It took me three years to put on another ten pounds. I graduated, and got a job as a proofreader at the newspaper. It paid well enough, and I didn’t need a lot. I had a one bedroom apartment, an old Dodge Neon, and three gym memberships. I worked on proportion and staying ripped. I thought about competing, and went to some local bodybuilding contests. I was one of the stronger guys at my regular after-work gym, the Lifelong Fitness Center, but when I had time, especially on weekends and leg days, I went to Powerhouse, the gym most serious bodybuilders in town preferred. If I needed an ego boost or wanted to swim, I went to Bally’s, where I could pretty much count on being one of the best built guys in the place. I liked my life, but I would never be satisfied as an average bodybuilder. I dated, had a lot of casual sex, never found a serious relationship, and had the chance to cover a few bodybuilding and powerlifting contests for a Musclesport blog on the paper’s website. I was feeling complacent and resigned. I thought sometimes about what I might do if I ever won a lot of money in the lotto. Normally I didn’t even buy lottery tickets. It was just an idle fantasy I played with in my mind if I couldn’t sleep, or had to miss a workout because of traveling or work. I played with ideas about traveling, buying big houses, more cars, more drum sets, eating out in restaurants every day, and all the usual things people think of. But one thing that always came to mind was having the resources to improve my bodybuilding. When I actually won $728 Million in the Ultra Power Lotto (the biggest jackpot ever!) after casually buying a ticket at the gas station, I was stunned, all my imaginary interests started to flood my mind. I bought three new cars, a truck, a McMansion, a highrise condo in the Chicago loop, a house boat in Sausalito, and started to get a sense of how I could control my life and get some focus. A few weeks after I won I began looking more seriously into ways to improve my body’s ability to gain muscle and overall size. I’d already filled all my refrigerators with food, stocked up on protein and supplements, and got a lifting coach. But I wanted to find the most cutting edge advantages. I wanted to get huger than I already was as fast as possible. I looked over all of the various chemical and drug based enhancements, nutritional tweaks, and different kinds of workout schedules and exercise regimens. There were many useful and helpful ideas out there that were suitable for making improvements within the range of natural ability and even for extending it by manipulating hormones with drugs. I had already tried most of the natural methods, and I had flirted a bit with some chemicals, back before the government banned anabolic hormone precursors like 1-AD and lumped them in with steroids. I was looking for new ideas that had never been tried. I’d often dreamed about ways to acclimate the body to megamassive eating through the use of a feeding tube down the throat, but it was impractical, because repeated insertion and removal of a conventional feeding tube would cause inflammation, and damage to esophagus and vocal cords, and the risks involved with a surgically implanted tube in the abdomen were unacceptable. Yet, I needed a way to make it easy to push my nutrient intake beyond the 6500 - 7000 Calorie level that was the most I’d ever sustained for more than a few days. (Even that had practically bankrupted me, but at least my food budget was never going to be a problem again.) The calorie and protein barrier had kept me from growing past 230 pounds. Pretty big for a 5’10” recreational bodybuilder, but not even half as much muscle as I had always wanted. It was while pondering this that I found a research summary on Google that surveyed the numerous ways nano materials fabrication were being adapted. One of them was for less disruptive medical procedures, including injury repair and dressing, and even more interestingly, diagnostic, pharmaceutical, and nutrient delivery tubing. The article went into some detail about the flexibility and pressure tolerance of the tubing materials, and their ability to transmit genetic and diagnostic information, so I was immediately excited. If this was what I thought it was, it would mean fast and painless continuous delivery of large amounts of food into the body, along with instructions telling the digestive system how to make the most of it. I arranged to meet with some researchers and small scale nano-manufacturing entrepreneurs. My ideas were mostly confirmed, and we started developing prototypes. They were ready with a usable version of a massive nutrient delivery hose within just a few weeks (It’s amazing how motivating money can be!). At the same time, I had a team working on fully predigested high density protein and liquid nutrient formula. I tasted some of it and I was not thrilled, to put it mildly, with the flavor, or the pasty viscous texture , but since it was designed to go straight through the tube into the stomach, palatability wasn’t really a factor. They quickly set up a facility to produce the stuff in quantity as needed. While all of this was going on, I had a new 140,000 square foot building put up with a super sturdy I-beam frame and a 50 foot ceiling. It would become a gym with 20 duplicates of each of the usual free weight benches, hammer strength machines (freeweight loading), static contraction stations, and just about every other thing a serious bodybuilder or powerlifter could want, plus a steel fabrication shop to make customized equipment. I hired eight of the biggest, strongest guys I could find around the region to run the gym. I paid them each a nice 50K a year, but the use of the gym and free bodybuilder-friendly apartments on the same property, and limitless food and supplements were also pretty enticing perks. My original plan was to wait until I had gained 70 to 80 more pounds over a period of six months, and then have the grand opening of MEGAHULK GYM for 75 guys who either were or wanted to be freaky-huge bodybuilders. I figured I’d be able to find at least that many guys at other local gyms, and on the university and area high school football, wrestling, and weightlifting teams. Then I would have the grand opening and my huge employees and I would blow everybody away and sign them up on the spot. I would run it as a non-profit, and offer free memberships to 25 more guys, beginners who were unable to afford memberships (men with families to support or working shit jobs, high school and college guys) who I figured would follow through. I would interview them to find out how serious/committed/obsessed they really were. Any guy who wanted the free membership would have to sign a binding contract requiring him to gain 50 pounds of lean muscle or more every year for at least five years to keep the membership. Pretty extreme size goal, but since memberships would come with unlimited food and supplements, and 24/7 access to one of the best equipped gyms in the world, with unlimited protein shake drinks at the smoothie bar, I figured it was an attainable goal for any guy who was determined to get huge. I envisioned 100 guys blowing up into the worlds biggest bodybuilders, high school students going from 125 pound freshmen to 350 pound behemoths by the time they were seniors, dads inspiring their sons to become bodybuilders by piling on 250 pounds of extra muscle just as their boys reached high school age, university guys becoming literally Big Men On Campus, their school totally dominating all the power sports. But before all of this, I had to get started on getting huge myself. I got The Mass Hose and swallowed its internal terminus. Once it was in my stomach, The nanotube technicians who supervised the procedure (after all I was the first human ever to have this kind of apparatus installed in my body- good idea to have the experts on hand) zapped the external end with a small series of low voltage electrical blips in a preprogrammed variable voltage sequence. Then they input the activation command. Suddenly it seemed as if the whole tube had just disappeared, except for the connector, which felt like a small mint in my mouth. When I swallowed The Mass Hose it had felt surprisingly minor, more like a piece of spaghetti than the gaggy string feeling I’d been expecting. But once they electrically treated it I couldn’t even feel it at all. Great, but how would it deliver enough food to my stomach? how would it allow me to breathe and still continuously push huge amounts of nutrition into my body? I shouldn’t have worried. The Mass Hose was smart. They explained that It could time delivery of the nutrient liquid in phases that decreased when I was inhaling and exhaling more vigorously, and it could pressurize the stuff and then depressurize it enough to deliver large quantities of it into my stomach with little or no discomfort. I stayed at the lab for two days, Thursday and Friday, while they monitored my first stage of feeding with the system, and made sure that I was acclimating to the Mass Hose, and that its nanotechnology was individuating to my needs. When my Mass Hose was first hooked up to the nutrient supply, and the flow initiated, I quickly began to feel the effects. The thing was suddenly filled with nutrient and I felt like I had a huge amount of food in my neck, as if I was guzzling a 70 gram protein shake. Then it shrunk down a bit, but my stomach kept filling up just as fast. “Wow, I feel really full!” I typed on my noteboard after only about a minute. (They weren’t sure if I’d ever be able to vocalize while my Mass Hose was feeding me. So I got a notebook computer that I could text on. It had a special display screen on the back so I could let other people see my typing.) “Well,” Todd, the project’s nanochemist replied, “the system has already delivered over 600 calories. It should slow down a bit now and work on getting you adjusted to a constant stomach reserve of 750 calories. After a while, maybe eight hours to a half day or so, it should start slowly forcing you up to a reserve of 1000, then 1250, then 1500 calories.” “Your Mass Hose should keep replenishing that 1500 calorie reserve in your digestive tract whenever you attach it to the supply for the first week or so,” he continued. “When it has worked up to that level, you’ll be taking in 17,000 calories for every 12 hours of Mass Hose hookup. After that it will increase the rate as it detects your body’s increased ability to absorb the stuff, in other words, when you grow bigger. The more hours a day you feed with your Mass Hose, the sooner you will gain greater absorbtion power. And it will not fall behind– the more you can digest productively for muscle gain, the more it will deliver. It won’t let you grow any excess fat, bacause the genetic and metabolic monitoring system will keep you as anabolic as possible as long as you lift heavy at least two or three times a week. However, you’ll probably be able to have productive workouts as often as twelve times a week, because the Mass Hose will use its neurological interfaces and genetic monitoring system to accelerate your recovery.” By the time I left the lab on Friday night, 48 hours later, it began to dawn on me how I could gain muscle almost effortlessly. I’d worked out twice in those two days, and really worked hard, but I felt like it was inevitable and automatic. I didn’t have any sense of difficulty with the huge amount of force and energy I expended. I thought I could have done it in my sleep. (I dreamed about lifting and growing all night long.) I kept my Mass Hose hooked up 21 hours both days. I had piled four pounds more muscle on me in two days! I spent the weekend and the next week connected to the Mass Hose throughout my sleeping hours and every waking moment except for 90 minutes split into two workouts each day. I had a portable pump with a small computer controller and a 25-gallon tank of nutrients made that could be wheeled around on a hand truck, so I could travel around and still eat. I could even eat while working out except when squatting, deadlifting, or doing low rep heavy sets. There is nothing like the feeling that your muscles are building up even while you lift, when they would normally be breaking down. I could actually feel my body feeding my muscles while I was curling and pumping up my biceps. I don’t think any drug or even sex could make me feel as awesome and invincible as I felt while pumping up and staying gorged on muscle food simultaneously. Another amazing thing that I quickly discovered was the sensation of my body feeling different, bigger, heavier, and stronger, when I woke up each morning. I was dreaming every night about lifting and eating and instantly blowing up with hundreds of pounds of muscle, and then when I’d wake up, I’d find that my dream was reflected a bit in reality. I’d walk over to the mirror wall (the long tube that connected the Mass Hose to the nutrient tank dragging along the floor behind me) and look to see how much new muscle I’d grown overnight. I could see some progress every morning, but more than that, I could feel big changes. My whole body was constantly resonating with power. I felt the pressure of power building inside me, my body constantly filling with more fuel to turn my workouts into more muscle. The Mass Hose was forcing more muscle size onto me, making my body respond to everything in whatever way would grow the most possible muscle, and feeling it happen all the time was almost overwhelming. It was the fastest I’d ever grown, but it was still slow enough that I was feeling mesmerized by the endlessness of the sensation. I just walked around my new house and deck attached to the 1000 foot retractable external tube, feeling my body grow all day long. When I got ready to leave for the gym, I just put the other tube in my mouth, and the Mass Hose automatically switched to it, and signaled the house tube to shut off. The switch took about three seconds. Same thing once I got to the gym if I needed another tank, or went into the private areas of the gym. Both my house and the gym had multiple tanks with a total of 25,000 gallons of capacity each. Although the nutrient mix was stored cool, the system warmed it up to the perfect temperature for my stomach. So far, I had not filled any of the system tanks with more than 200 gallons, but I was prepared for the most extreme developments, including large scale feeding of dozens of guys, or maybe my own most extreme growth fantasies. By the end of the next weekend, my acclimation to the system was complete, and the week of automatic megamassive eating had had a profound effect: My stomach was already accomodating a 2000 calorie constant reserve, 500 calories more than anticipated, so my ability to absorb nutrients had increased dramatically. In seven days, I’d grown from 229 pounds to 248 pounds. My overall physique had grown enough that it wasn’t just enhanced size, it was a transformation. My body had a shape that was much more massive and powerful in appearance, wider, thicker, yes, but not just that. My body was now covered over with muscle that made it hard to tell what the bone structure beneath was like. My frame was completely encased in muscle–nineteen pounds of new muscle in seven days, and no end in sight! The next week I continued the same routine– 22.5 hours a day using my Mass Hose, two grueling workouts a day, 10.5 hours of sleep per night, although neither the workouts nor the sleep were anything like normal lifting or sleeping. My lifting was so much fun it was nearly orgasmic. I was able to put forth work-to-failure efforts set after set on every lift, twice a day, and I ended every workout with drastically exaggerated pumps on the muscles I’d worked. Every time I worked my legs my thighs were like barrels by the time I was done. Back workouts left my arms spread out at 60-degree angles because my lats were so inflated. For the first time ever, I could see pumped lat muscles rounding way out before they began to curve down and then cram back in to my torso, and bulge back from the rest of the hemispheres of muscle covering my back, even more than the thick paired ridges of muscle jutting out over both sides of my spine. Shoulders, chest and arm muscles responded with similarly exploded pumps. If I happened to work arms and pecs on the same day, I could forget about doing anything that required touching my hands together in front of my chest, like washing my hands, cutting food on a plate, or typing on my noteboard, for at least four hours. So if I wanted to communicate with my staff or anyone after that, I’d have to hunt and peck with one hand on the noteboard or write on the chalkboard doors of one of the freezers or refrigerators. I was constantly carrying over 2400 calories of protein shake in my belly, which looked a little distended, even more so since my abs were over three inches thick at that point. I was resigned to having something that looked like a roid gut, just because I was so full all the time, even though I never had the sensation of chewing or eating. I constantly felt the protein forcing its way into my muscles; my arteries almost throbbing with the feeling of nutrition distributing aggressively throughout my body. My brain hummed. I was always on the verge of getting an erection. My thoughts were totally consumed with my body’s relentless growth. I was high on my body. My muscle gains–the sensation of my muscles increasingly pushing against each other– made me feel high. My muscular gut crammed with protein made me feel high. Seeing myself in the mirror made me feel high. By high, I mean it made my brain fixate even more on my bodybuilding process. It was the perfect combination of entrainment into being a musclehead. The differences in sleep were the most unexpected. I don’t mean the fact that my body’s size and shape could no longer be comfortably accomodated by a normal bed. Other big bodybuilders’ accounts of that problem had prepared me for that. I had custom nine by nine foot body contoured mattresses made with sculpted space foam and other adaptations. What was really different was that at a time when the body is usually catabolic because it can’t take in food, I was getting 26,000 calories and over 2750 grams of protein, and waking up bigger, stronger, and heavier. I never did dream much before I started the Mass Hose. I had had dreams as a kid, but once I moved out and started working as an adult, they pretty much stopped. I always hoped I’d have dreams about growing huge and muscular, but it never happened, except for short glimpses, which were not really vivid dreams. With the Mass Hose that changed abruptly. I dreamt constantly it seemed. My new dreams were wild orgies of impossibly huge growth and grew more vivid every night. In a typical dream, I was at a park near my old high school, it was 78º F and a constant but gentle wind was blowing . Other people were going about their business, roller-blading, pushing babies in strollers, eating ice cream and popcorn, sitting on benches. I was waiting in line for pizza at a pushcart at the edge of an open area surrounded by trees. I was wearing jams, flip-flops, and my favorite tee-shirt, an old dark red Gold’s Gym Shirt that was a little tight, an XL, getting a bit threadbare with the logo fading, but it was one of the shirts I wore while I was turning into a bodybuilder. I bought it when I was at 180 pounds (up from 150 when I started lifting three years before), and starting to get comfortable with identifying as a bodybuilder, and confident enough to wear a bodybuilding logo on my chest. At the beginning of my dream I was at 225 pounds or so, like I actually had been up until a two weeks ago. I ordered two large pizzas, sat down and started eating them. I started to feel hot so I took off my shirt. I kept eating and eating until I finished two whole pizzas, then I took my protein shake I’d been saving for later out of my backpack (which was suddenly there, even though I didn’t have it before. When I took the bottle out it grew to a two gallon jug, and I started to chug it. In a couple of minutes I finished the whole thing. I burped , and stood up. My stomach was stretched to the limit, but I felt great. A couple of kids, boys about nine and six years old, who were walking by stopped and looked at me. “Wow, mister, your muscles are huge!” the older one said. “Yeah, really huge,” his little brother agreed. “When I grow up, I’m gonna have big muscles just like you mister,” said the nine year old. “Yeah, me too. I’m gonna be the Incredible Hulk!” said the younger kid. “My name’s Jerry,” he added. “I’m Danny,” his brother said. “Well guys, eat lots of good food, no junky snacks, and when you’re about twelve, start lifting weights. You’ll grow muscles just like this,” I did a double biceps pose, and then a most muscular. “And keep on doing it. You’ll grow bigger and bigger.” “I know, I read bodybuilding magazines at the library,” Danny said. “and I’m already lifting weights, I weigh almost 80 pounds” he went on. “Look!” He pulled his shirt off and flexed his arms. I could see good muscle development on his torso, and His biceps popped up as he flexed, a lot bigger than you’d expect from a nine year old. “Wow, your arms are already starting to get pretty big, Danny. Keep it up, and eat as much as you can.” He kept flexing as I spoke, and I could see veins on his biceps and forearms. “Wanna split a protein shake with me guys?” I asked, pulling another two gallon jug out of the (bottomless protein shake) bag. I took a big swig and passed it to Danny. He turned it up and started to guzzle it . He kept drinking it and drinking it. His stomach was sticking out more and more. He kept guzzling. Thick abs started to appear on his stomach as he drank. Then his muscles all over his body started growing bigger and thicker. His lats widened out, his chest bulged up and out, his shoulders started to look like softballs, and his arms were like a kid version of Lee Preist’s. He finished the whole bottle, and then flexed and roared. “I’m HUGE!” “Got any more shakes?” Jerry said excitedly. I pulled out three more, but this time they were each five gallons. I handed one to each of them, and opened my own. As I lifted my bottle up it kept getting bigger until it was the size of a fifty gallon drum. We all started guzzling down our protein and growing like wild. We started getting taller and wider and heavier. Before long we were all ten feet tall, and nearly as wide, crammed with bulging muscles that kept pulsing and bulging bigger. They were the hugest kids ever, but I was just getting started, I kept expanding, blowing up, bigger, thicker, stronger, taller, 20 feet tall, gaining hundreds of pounds a minute, feeling more and more powerful . . . That’s about the point in any one of my dreams when I would usually wake up, and realize that I really was bigger and thicker and stronger and heavier, though not taller. By the end of the week two, I had gained another 22 pounds, and weighed 270. The sensation of all that new muscle mass was almost overwhelming. I had entered the realm of the superheavyweights. I was shaking the floors with every step. I had no idea how much weight I could lift, because my strength was increasing so fast. My body felt unfamiliar, voluminous. I could slow down, get familiar with my huge physique, become comfortable in my body. But no, this was never about comfort or familiarity– it was about growth and exploring new territory. I would continue to grow as fast as possible, as big as possible, at least until I’d done it for a month. So, I continued with the same routine, and at 270 pounds I was now carrying over 2650 calories in my stomach all the time, and gaining over three pounds of muscle a day. Part Two Every muscle in my body seemed to pulse with power. I constantly had the strong sensation of each muscle growing bigger, my body being flooded with muscle building nutrients. I felt my arms expanding, swelling with power even while they were being pushed further out to the side by my thickening lats and pecs. My legs were swelling and bulging bigger by the hour, my shoulders inflating like beachballs. My mind was on fire with excitement from all the physical sensation, and knowing that I was growing muscle faster than any man ever had. I was nearly overwhelmed with the pleasure of it. I kept lifting like a demon and absorbing nutrients faster and faster. At the end of week three I weighed 294 pounds. At 5’10” that made me one of the most muscularly developed bodybuilders on earth, and I was growing faster all the time. Although my stomach was crammed with over half a gallon of nutrient all the time, I had gotten so used to the fullness that I barely noticed it anymore. Although my stomach stuck out from my groin over seven inches, it didn’t seem to stick out, because my thighs jutted even further forward, and my pecs were so thick that it seemed proportional, and between my superdeveloped serratus and the fact that my whole front torso was framed by my lats, traps, and arms, my gut looked normal, at least normal for a superheavyweight bodybuilder. That night, I had the most intense dream I’d ever had. I was a teenager, fifteen again, and it was the fourth of July. Everyone was celebrating Independence Day, and there was a neighborhood cookout at the rec center. People were swimming in the pool and eating barbecue, drinking beer and sodas. It was eleven o’clock in the morning, and already really hot, close to ninety degrees Fahrenheit. I was walking back to the pool area from a clearing in the oak grove. I was on my way to the weightlifting pen. I felt extra-jacked, totally psyched up to lift. I had just gotten an orange glass marble from someone in the grove. This marble was supposed to make me bigger and stronger. I had it in the key pocket of my swimming trunks. I wasn’t wearing any flip-flops, or a tee-shirt. Normally, at fifteen years old and 135 pounds, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere public without a loose tee-shirt, but since I had the orange marble, I didn’t care. The girl who gave it to me said that I should keep it near me while eating or working out, such as in a pocket or something, so it could work its magic. She said it was tuned to my personal aura or something like that. In my dream the rec center weight room was outside like the one at Muscle Beach. It was in a big fenced area adjacent to the pool deck (The rec center in my hometown actually had an indoor weight room, because cold weather would make it useless outside for at least half the year). I was walking at a comfortable pace, but purposefully. I strode across the pool, past all the hot girls in my class who were there, past all the older boys and guys in their twenties who were big and buff. Nothing could deter me from going to the weight pen. My determination and energy were like nothing I’d felt before I got the orange marble. It was working already, I could tell. I walked into the weight room and walked toward the benches. Two Seniors were there benching. They were two of the biggest guys in school, Jeff and Alan, both varsity wrestlers. “Can I work in with you guys?” I asked as I came to a stop next to the bench they were using. Any other time I’d have just used the old Marcy machine until they were done, but I didn’t want to. I never got a good workout on that thing. Even if I asked they usually would have said no. Today was different. I had the orange marble in my pocket. “Uh, uh, sure, I guess, but we’re working heavy, so it’ll take some time to strip and load plates. It’s cool though. We’re not in a hurry.” We started doing sets. I was able to do nine reps with 185, something I could never have done before that day. I felt great! After Jeff and Alan each did sets with 225, I tried it too. I had never benched more than 175 before that day. Amazingly, I did 11 reps at 225, the same as Jeff, and one more rep than Alan. My pecs were pumped up far more than ever before, but not a bit tired. I was ready for more. Alan loaded a pair of 25s on the bar and we did a set with 275. I was able to do 10 reps. Then we loaded the bar to 315. I did 8 reps, just like Alan and Jeff. Then we did a set with 365, I did 8 reps at 365, two more reps than either of the huge seniors. “You’re really strong for a kid,” Jeff said. “How long have you been lifting?” “Two years,” I answered, “but only about nine months seriously. But I’ve gained 10 pounds in the last two months,” I continued, exaggerating a bit. “I’m ready to start piling on some mass. I’ve been getting a lot stronger the last few weeks.” “Well,” Alan said, “You should start getting a lot bigger, most guys your size can’t lift half of what you do.” We continued lifting together, doing flyes and cable crossovers, and then a back workout, which was Bent over rows, T-bar rows, lat pulls, and alternating dumbell rows. When we got to the dumbell rows, I had kept up with both of them throughout the workout, and they were getting tired and slowing down. I was not. The orange marble was keeping me going. I was loaded with energy. We started with an 80 pounder, then a set with 100, then 120. Finally we got a 130. Alan and Jeff were each barely able to do five reps each side with it, barely forcing out the last ones. Then it was my turn. I picked up the dumbell casually with my left arm. (For some reason I always want to do left side first on dumbell rows. Same thing in a dream I guess.) I started my set. I did 12 reps on each arm, and put the dumbell down. “Are we doing another set?” I asked. “Are you nuts, kid?” Alan said. “I can barely raise my arms up to my face. Damn, how do you do it? I weigh 195 pounds, and Jeff is 210, but you ran us into the ground.” “I dunno, just naturally strong I guess,” I smiled. We hit the showers, and when no one was looking, I took the orange marble out of my pocket and held it up to my chest. I could feel its power feeding me. I was looking bigger all over after the workout. I walked over and stepped on the scale. I weighed 150, I’d actually gained fifteen pounds in just a couple of hours. I looked at the marble, and that’s when I got the idea that changed everything. I popped the marble in my mouth and swallowed it. I felt fantastic! I felt the marble lodging itself in the base of my stomach and becoming bonded inside me. Then I downed my protein shake. When I did I literally saw my body grow bigger in the mirror. I was expanding before my own eyes. I looked down at the scale, it said 167, and then 168, 169, 171. Then 174, 180. . . I started blowing up with muscle. The workout and protein combined with the marble being inside me started a chain reaction. In a couple of minutes I was bigger than Alan or Jeff, I started to look like a bodybuilder from a magazine. Then I was even bigger. I started to grow taller too, 5’10”, 5’11”, 6’0” , 6’2” and upward. Within ten more minutes I was 6’6” and weighed 450 pounds, and I was accelerating, inflating, exploding with size and power. I continued to grow bigger and bigger, faster and faster. Quickly I grew to eight feet tall, and was blasting past a full ton of muscle. This was the point in one of these dreams when I would usually wake up, but not this time. I kept going and going. In a way, I knew I was dreaming, but I willfully ignored that and kept feeling the dream more and more intimately. Jeff and Alan walked into the locker room. They saw me blowing up with size. “Dude! That is awesome, keep going! Make yourself bigger!” Jeff said. “Yeah! Bigger, bigger, bigger!” Alan shouted. “Bigger! Bigger! Bigger! Bigger!” they started chanting over and over. The Marble made my power extend to everyone around me. “Here man, drink my shake,” Alan offered. “Yeah! Mine too!” said Jeff. I quickly downed both shakes. Then I started to grow huger faster than ever. I was blowing up into a giant hulking great wall of muscle. In a minute after I finished the two protein shakes I was fifteen feet tall and weighed over 5000 pounds, and I was growing faster and faster. I just kept getting bigger. I was a mountain of muscle, and gaining faster and faster. In a couple more minutes I was outside by the pool, and I was 25 feet tall, 30,000 pounds. “MORE!!!” I roared. I kept exploding. I had a huge erection that was spewing jizz like a fountain by the gallon. I kept exploding bigger and bigger, 30, 40, 50 feet tall, and thicker and wider by the second. “MORE!! MORE!! MORE!! MORE!!” I kept trying to shout. I was awake and I was still shouting more, but the tube was hooked up. I was tense all over, and felt pumped up beyond belief. I’d gotten pumped in my sleep! Wow, I wanna do that every night. I feel like a god, I thought to myself. And I grew much more than usual last night. Over the next week my gains accelerated even further, and my dream was starting to come true– I could literally see muscle growth right before my eyes sometimes. During that week, I gained, on average, over four and a quarter pounds a day, and by the end of the week it was closer to five a day. By that Sunday night I had expanded to 324 pounds. At 5’10” tall, that much size, especially on a relatively thin skeletal frame, was so much that I was nearly engulfed in it. My range of motion was significantly limited by the masses of muscle bulging over every part of my frame. I could stand up, although my feet couldn’t touch while I was doing so ( I couldn’t get them closer than about 20 inches without bending my knees because of the mass of my quads). I could lay down, although if I lay on my back the peaks of my calfs and hams, glutes and lats were the only things touching the surface. Sleeping with any comfort was only possible on my customized bed, which was about due for a reworking, because I was too wide for its contours; the hollows weren’t really wide or deep enough any more. There was talk among my orthopedic guys of creating a liquid sleeping environment for me, but the complications had to be worked out before that could be seriously pursued. What I could not do at all was sit. I could not put my thighs at 90 degrees to my spine (a 55 degree angle was the most I could fit myself into, because my abs and quads got in the way. My abs were eight inches thick and my stomach was always full of over 3000 calories of protein and nutrients, so my stomach was over eleven inches thick. My quads jutted straight out from my thigh bones at the upper insertions, and were beginning to actually bulge up toward my torso. So, I could use a special recliner, or I could use a special extra large kneeling chair. I had some special upholstered furniture made up in the gym’s fabrication shop to work around the problems my immense mass was causing. I had to confront the facts, either stop growing muscle or face being unable to move at all. I already had an involuntary and greatly exaggerated bodybuilder swagger, which felt fantastic, and constantly kept my huge muscles in the front of my mind. I couldn’t forget, even for a second, that I was hulked out beyond belief. I was running out of room to put on more muscle. It was the next morning that I got a note from the nanotech lab, something about an integrated nanosystem improvement. When I first saw it, I was not really focused on reading it, because I was going through the painful process of tapering down from 65 thousand calories a day to 27 thousand, so I could acclimate to maintaining my mass instead of continuously increasing it. I was jittery, feeling constantly hungry, and distracted. And I was trying to plan the grand opening of the gym. I‘d had systems put in where guys who would have mass hoses could connect to the nutrient tanks. My plan was to have every gym member who wanted one get a mass hose and feed themselves after workouts for three hours. Although they wouldn’t get what I got, I could make sure that they developed megamassive eating capacity while getting crammed with nutrients. These connection systems were in small rooms in six rows of five perpendicular to the back of the gym building. with comfortable recliners and surround audio-video. The computers on the systems had subliminal audio, as well as visualization components, in addition to individual hose feeding programs designed to hugely extend the nutrient absorbing capacity of any bodybuilder who used one regularly for a three weeks or more for at least two hours a day. My eight employees were the first to try out the new systems. The visualizations were very exciting for the guys who were spending time on the mass hoses. The walls and ceilings were filled with video displays that showed the men their own physiques from various distances and angles, and progressed through time lapse extrapolations of their muscles growing bigger based on the nourishment and entrainment from the hose itself and the subliminals that went with it. The longer the session, the further the projected growth went. Each man was given discs to reinforce the subliminal audio, and to review the projected growth on video later at home. The system designers assured me that once any bodybuilder, no matter how inexperienced, used the system long enough to gain substantial physical advantages from it, the ability to do megamassive eating and ten or more pounds of added muscle, he would become irrevocably obsessed with gaining as much muscle mass as possible, and would pursue muscle relentlessly until it was impossible to gain any more. I was about to enable a degree of muscle growth, and acheivable desire for muscle growth, that had never existed in bodybuilding. It had never existed in men at all. I thought about what might be possible to achieve for a boy who began using the system early in adolescence, at around twelve or thirteen. The degree of mass enhancement possible for someone who started with the mass hose at such an early age would have to be profound. The growth that a young bodybuilder with that amount of nutritional, ergonomic and neurological reinforcement throughout his formative years might achieve would be huge beyond belief. A couple of bodybuilders I’d talked to had already signed their sons up to start at eleven years old! One of them, a 6’0,” 275 pound nationally rated NPC amateur named Jerry, was openly gushing about how huge he expected his son Tommy, who was going to be eleven in two weeks, might grow. “I didn’t start ‘til I was almost seventeen,” Jerry enthused, “and I didn’t have anything like this mass hose. With his genetics Tommy could weigh over 500 pounds in a few years, maybe even more! And then he’ll just keep blowing up. This thing will make him want it even more than he already does. He already runs around the house flexing and yelling ‘I’m gonna have the biggest muscles in the world!’ He wants to get super huge already and he’s not even using barbells yet. His mom made me promise to wait ‘til he turned eleven. I can’t wait to see Tommy blow up into a gigantic muscle-freak! I bet he’s over half a ton when he’s in his twenties. And maybe even eight feet tall!” Another guy, Justin, who had only pursued bodybuilding intermittently before joining MEGAHULK, and weighed around 220 pounds lean, brought his son Jacob in on his eleventh birthday and introduced him to the mass hose. His son had played with dumbbells a bit but wasn’t really serious about it. “I want to look like dad someday, I guess,” he said when asked about his goals. “Jake, son, you’re gonna be way huger than your old man in a few years. You’re gonna be one of the biggest guys in the world, SUPER muscular, huge and way taller than me too!” “But mom said that my body is made like yours and I shouldn’t worry about trying to get really big” “Your mom doesn’t know about the Mass Hose, and she doesn’t need to know yet either. We’re gonna make it a surprise.” he told Jacob. He confided in me that he wanted to make sure his son was irreversibly obsessed with huge growth before his wife knew anything. In less than two weeks, the deed was done. Jake had spent all his days at “fitness camp” feeding on the mass hose eight hours a day, and lifting two hours with a trainer. In those two weeks, he had already grown two inches and seventeen pounds heavier (over a pound every day), all lean muscle. By then he was endlessly gushing about how huge he was determined to grow. “I’m gonna be a GIANT! My muscles are just gonna grow and grow and grow! Bigger than a gorilla! Bigger than ten gorillas! Look how big and strong I’m already getting. I’m gonna grow a thousand pounds of muscle before I’m even a teenager!” I gave extensive thought to the potential my gym offered. I could see it becoming a Mecca for muscleheads from around the country and the world. I could see the members of the gym growing bigger and bigger, the younger ones even gaining exceptional height throughout their teenage years, and filling their frames with huge mountainous masses of muscle beyond anything ever seen before. I imagined this spawning a whole culture of megamuscleheads, and hundredfold increase in the number of men who would pursue bodybuilding. This was the beginning of a new order of magnitude in human muscle size. I was going to turn my gym members into the hugest muscleheads ever. I knew that this was true for me. I was still gaining muscle mass, even though I only used the system five or six hours a day now, because I found myself involuntarily and automatically eating pretty much all day long, and waking up at night to eat as well. I couldn’t stop building mass even though I tried consciously to limit it. In the two weeks since I had curtailed the previous round-the-clock mass hose hook up down to six hours a day, I had still gained over a pound a day, and had now reached 346 pounds at seven percent bodyfat. I felt like a god, but I was worried that I would grow literally musclebound if I didn’t stop gaining mass. At the same time though, part of me wanted to feed through the mass hose 23 hours a day and adjust it so it would stay on the maximum edge of calorie and protein increases, and just see how far it would go, how far I would go. Part Three As I was flexing and posing in front of the mirror, contemplating opening day at MEGAHULK, I got two new briefings from my research team. These were the details about the nanosystem improvements the earlier note had mentioned. One was about ways that the Mass Hose could be thoroughly integrated into the human nervous system through stimulated growth into the body via programming commands. The second one was about ways that this cybernetic symbiosis could be directed through programming. The team had developed a program that would optimize the process to meet whatever physical results were described in the program’s variables. This new system could activate growth plates and grow bone to enlarge the body’s frame and accommodate more muscle mass with less restriction of movement. It could make me taller! So, I would have a larger amount of room to accommodate more mass. The new system was able to learn and respond so that it would identify and prevent problems to keep the effects of the symbiosis healthy and sustainable. This didn’t mean that there would be any artificial limits placed on growth, merely that it would have to cause growth in ways that wouldn’t hurt body functions. The programming team was ready to begin controlled trials. I reviewed the research data and decided to go ahead with the trials. I would be spending as much time as possible hooked up to an extended version of the mass hose that had a vast computer network operating it. It would allow the Mass hose to grow extensions within my body that could directly feed every single muscle cell, and ones that could gradually adapt every part of my body to support continuous increases in muscle mass. Within a couple of hours after I hooked up to the new system, I began to feel very unusual. I could directly sense the inclusion of nano-support into every part of my body. I also felt something going on in my head that was different. My thinking processes were becoming greedier for muscle, something I wouldn’t have thought was possible because I was already relentless about it- at least I’d thought so. I felt the desire in my bones. I mean literally. I felt my bones growing thicker, and I felt like my whole body was conscious, and trying to grow. My breathing became like a bellows, I was taking in more air. My lungs were getting bigger. My ribcage was getting bigger. I could feel all of my bones thickening. The monitoring system showed a huge uptake in minerals through the Mass Hose. It also revealed something that was alarming to some of the lab staff. The nanotechnology had grown into my brain and was interacting furiously with my whole nervous system! The research team was panicked. They said we had to shut down the system, because I was in danger. I wasn’t. I knew exactly what was happening. The system was helping my nervous system grow more efficient at building me. “But it has invaded your brain!” Jay Foster, one of the programmers, yelled. “It could damage you permanently!” “No,” I said, “It is giving me exactly what I want, and helping me to want it even more! It is reprogramming my mind so I can focus even more on building myself ever huger, ever faster, without limits!” I gushed gleefully. The voice synthesis part of the new program worked very well. I could think and it would talk for me. “This new integration might be scary to you, but to me, to me, its everything I started this for. I’m going to grow unfathomably huge! That’s what I want, why do you think I wanted to do all of this? It is so I can grow massive beyond human conception, So I can literally become a muscle giant.” I shouted at them commandingly. “I want you to leave this thing on, permanently. That’s an order. Furthermore, I want you to make sure that it can transform my body more dramatically. I want this thing to make me taller and wider. I want to be at least seven feet tall, and I want my frame to widen out enough to support far more muscle comfortably than it can now. Get started, I want this to happen faster.” Jay looked shocked, and frustrated. He was worried about the dangers he thought came from having my brain interfaced with the computer. “Of course, sir. I’ll monitor the situation closely and let you know if anything goes wrong.” He left the lab room and headed back to his office, carrying his open computer and staring at it as he walked. “Sir?” one of Jay’s assistants said to me. “Can I talk with you?” It was Chris, a 23 year old computer science guy who I’d hired myself because he showed a lot of enthusiasm. Chris looked different than he had a few months ago when we started the first phases of the project. He had been 5’10” and weighed a lean, muscular 215 pounds six months ago. By the time I finished initial set up of my Mass Hose lab he was forty-five pounds heavier, 260 pounds, and had shaved his head. He had grown much more committed to his own bodybuilding efforts. He had continued growing even faster the last few weeks, and was now at 282 pounds. “Of course Chris, What’s on your mind?” “Sir, I know Jay is afraid the system could control you and take away your free will. I don’t share his fear. The system has two way communication. You can make it make you do things. You’re making it increase your lust for size and power. That seems too extreme or perverse to someone like Jay. He doesn’t understand bodybuilding, but I do. Jay thinks you’re too big already. I’d love to be as huge as you, and I can’t wait to see you grow twenty times bigger.” “Twenty times? “Yes, sir. I mean that literally. If you stay on this system, you will literally gain TONS of muscle. There’s no limit to what this thing can do physically, and no limit to how much your muscle lust can expand either, thanks to my metaroutine.” “Your metaroutine? What did you do, Chris? Is this thing safe? “Hell yeah! All it does is potentiate the growth of your lust. It makes your brain and the system synchronise to optimize growth. It makes it so your mind can grow more desire for muscle the same way your body grows. However much you want to get huge, it amplifies it. It all starts with you. You are driving. The system just lets your brain grow a more powerful ability to generate greed for hugeness.” He was getting audibly more excited. “You can become hundreds of times more intelligent, and devote all of that ability to getting more massive. I wanted you to know, so you can consciously exploit its potential. You’re not gonna be just a muscle giant, you’re gonna be a muscle GOD!” “Aren’t you afraid I’ll bust you and put a stop to this?” “I was for about an hour and a half, but you’re past that now. Its irreversible. I was right about you. Your lust for size knows no limits. You’ll never stop expanding yourself. Never, because the program reverses aging too. You will grow bigger than you can possibly imagine now, but your imagination will grow. You’ll find ways to envision yourself huger and huger, and then you will achieve each vision, time after time. Right now, as I speak, your body is completely rewiring, replumbing, reconfiguring, into the greatest muscle size growth factory ever conceived, and you’ll keep transforming more and more into a bigger and more powerfully motivated, more efficiently expanding musclehead.” “Chris, I’m curious, why didn’t you do this to yourself? I mean, you obviously want to grow far huger than nature allows. Why not try this on yourself and grow into the giant hulk you want to be. I’ve noticed that you’ve gotten a lot bigger very quickly. You must want more, or you wouldn’t have worked so hard on it. Most guys could never grow as fast as you have without technological help. You rewired me in a way that most people would never willingly allow to be done to themselves. I can’t see how you could have known that it was just what I’d have wanted even without my brain getting invaded by your program.” “Well, Yeah! I do want to have what you’re gonna have- to be what you are becoming, but first I want to keep improving the potential of the system. Because once I do it to myself, there will be nobody to do the research. I’m the only one on the team that is fully committed to your goals, because they’re also my own goals. Once I start on the journey myself, I’ll be too busy expanding to think about anything else. I want to make sure we never have to do anything but will ourselves huger and huger, without any kind of complications or distractions. I want to make sure that the final version will automatically and unpreventably propel me to muscular infinity. You and I will both be able to grow endlessly huger, and we’ll be unstoppable once I get all the variables just right- but for now, you’re my excuse to do the research. No one would allow this to go on if you weren’t paying for it. The world doesn’t want godlike giant muscle freaks that use massive amounts of resources to make themselves keep growing even more gigantic. We have to make it irreversible, invincible, inevitable, before we turn it over to an automatic process.” I could faintly grasp the implications of what Chris was so enthused about, how irresponsible it was in the normal scheme of things. But underlying all my thoughts was a new understanding, an imperative that was essential to my existence. It superceded all of the other concerns that might pop up. It was that I could and would continue to accelerate my muscle growth. It might sound simple and unimportant to someone who is not inside my awareness, but as I think of anything and everything, my muscle growth becomes the lens through which all of reality refracts. It is the most profound thing imaginable. My expansion trumped all other considerations. More accurately, it obliterates them. Whatever thoughts I’d had that might slow me down or make me think critically about my lust for, greed for, invincible grasp and internalization of, expanding size and power, I didn’t remember them. They were gone, and I was growing. “Well, what do you need to make it happen faster Chris. We’re gonna be huger than anyone can even think about in their wildest dreams.” “Put me in charge of a lab. Give me an independent budget. I’ll find more and faster ways to grow cosmically huge muscle before you know it!” “Done. You’re the head of New Musclegods Laboratories.” By the end of that day, I was nine pounds heavier. I stayed hooked up to the system as much as possible over the next few days. The next day I grew another sixteen pounds, reaching 371, although I didn’t feel constrained at all. A good part of that increase was bone growth. I was now a good four inches wider, and my bones were growing thicker. The third day I put on 21 more pounds. I was six feet tall, over an inch and a half taller than before, and nearly a foot wider in the frame. The fourth day the muscle began to pile on like never before. The system could grow muscle faster than bone. In one twenty four hour period I grew 38 pounds of muscle. I ‘d reached 430 pounds. I could feel my body expanding like wildfire, always pushing up and out, muscles pulsing with growth no other man had ever experienced, becoming more engulfed in the sense of my size and power increasing. On day five, the system made a breakthrough. It had learned from the feedback since it came online. At about seven a.m. I was awakened by the sound of my bed frame creaking. My body was blowing up, and I was getting too heavy for the bed. The monitor showed that I had started a major growth acceleration at about 3:30 in the morning, and that I was still accelerating. I was 6’4”, and I’d gained 78 pounds in less than four hours. I was 508 pounds at 5:15. I could really sense that there would be no limit to my growth now. I would just keep getting bigger and more muscular. By the end of the fifth day, I was 6’9” and had gained another 390 pounds, totalling 898 pounds. I was near the upper end of every measure of normal human potential. I was taller than all but a percent or two of humans, heavier than all but a few thousand people, and had far more muscle mass than anyone else on earth. I was, by any measure, the strongest man who’d ever lived. And I wanted more, a LOT more. My mind was a cognitive cyclone of lust for growth, and ideas of how to get more of it faster. That night when I went to sleep I knew that I’d weigh well over half a ton by the time I woke up. I fell into a deep sleep. Instantly I was dreaming. This was not like the dreams I’d been having, it was just me growing and growing, expanding beyond anything possible, miles high, planet sized, swallowing stars. It went on all night long, bigger and bigger and bigger, and I could feel every bit of it in a wash of physical sensation that isn’t usually found in dreams. During that first week, Chris had developed several improvements. First, an improvement in the overall system, more processing power, a better communication and realtime feedback network, and more precision in targeting the localized delivery of various nutrients within my body, so it could send just the right things to make every part of me grow bigger and stronger at the fastest rate possible. Second, improved ability of the system to modulate sensation, so I could feel my body in more detail and feel the sensation of growth more thoroughly. This also allowed me to direct my growth; to make certain muscles grow faster, to make hair grow or disappear, to consciously change my brain and internalize desire at greater levels consciously. I was beginning to gain the ability to sense the computer and the software while I was hooked up to it. These improvements were the keys to accelerating my growth beyond human scale, which was now my constant fixation, which Chris was determined to make happen, and which he had now turned loose in my mind. I was ready to go on an endless rampaging orgy of growth to superhuman scale and power. Another improvement was the ability of the nanotech system to create the sensation of food flavor and texture whenever it was desired, so I could feel like I was eating when I wanted to, instead of just staying crammed full of nutrients all the time without tasting anything. This was fairly good, but it still made me want to actually eat, what I wanted was to be able to get direct feeding and still eat simultaneously. Chris told me he was working on ways to give my muscles a progressive overload workout without actually needing a gym, by having the nanotechnology modify my muscles to create the effects of lifting at exactly the right intervals and to the optimum amount to maximize the benefits of progressive overload. He was also working on ways to allow my body to build cell size and the number of muscle cells almost at will. Both of these were necessary improvements, because I had surpassed the ability of the gym and its weights to provide enough stimulation for maximal anabolic effect. When I woke up on the morning of day six, I found out that some tweaks had already been applied to the system during my sleep. I was 7’2” tall, and had blown up to 1261 pounds. I’d gained 363 pounds in just ten hours. I woke up feeling the muscles in my body pushing my legs further apart and forcing my arms out further from my sides. When I opened my eyes, I could see my pectorals rising gradually higher into my field of vision. The sensation of growth filled my brain like a giant ball of lightening. The lightening kept intensifying. I had an expanding orgasmic blast of consciousness totally fixated on my body as it kept inflating with mass. After about twenty minutes I got to the point that I could begin to function while the sensation continued and grew more powerful. I wanted to get up and move around, to feel the new power I was gaining. It occurred to me that one day soon, I’d wake up in the morning and my growth would be so compelling I wouldn’t be able to gain any perspective on it at all, but just be overcome permanently by the feeling of my exploding muscles. That might sound scary, but I actually felt excited by the prospect of a permanent out of control intensifying muscle growth orgasm. YEAHHH!! I walked around the lab, glorying in the visible thickening of my muscles, the ramping up of testosterone and the electrifying sense of power that was relentlessly growing. Then I began to feel the automatic workout kick in, my muscles began to ripple and contract, even as they bulged thicker. A sense of being more and more pumped up gradually swelled over my body. I looked at the mirror. My body was slowly swelling bigger and bigger, all of my muscles undulating and bulging. I could feel my frame adapting to the new mass by thickening as well. I began to notice that my perspective on the room was slowy changing, within a couple more hours, I’d grown noticably taller. I was 7’5” and weighed 1394 pounds. Chris was shooting video of me and feeding it into the computer. He had a robot manipulating the camera so he could lift, and eat and guzzle supplements all day. His excitement at the success of the new system was palpable. Chris was already committed to this more than I was, and he didn’t have the system installed in himself yet. Chris had grown huge in a very short time. He told me that when he’d started working out, only five years earlier at eighteen, he’d weighed 155 pounds. By the time he was nineteen he was over 200 pounds. Then he put his workouts on the back burner to go to college and learn cybernetics. During college, he slowly inched up to 210 pounds, and then took a month off and put on an additional five pounds before coming to work for me. He took the job because he was interested in the project, but even more because I guaranteed all my employees the chance to grow into world class bodybuilders. Many of the guys at the lab had put on muscle, and some of them had grown enough muscle to look like bodybuilders, but Chris was the only one who had really committed himself to getting huge. He had spent every waking moment other than work on bodybuilding since he started at my lab. He had spent months forcing himself to eat continuously all day long, constantly pressing himself to consume more and more, and had taken immense advantage of all the free food and supplements that came with the job. With no nanotechnology at all, Chris was taking in well over 12,000 calories every day. He slept five hours twice a day, and worked out five days a week. Chris had put on another 28 pounds of muscle in the last three weeks, reaching 310 pounds. He was, as far as anyone can determine, the only natural bodybuilder of normal height over 300 pounds. Without using the mass hose or any drugs, he was gaining over a pound a day. Chris was already bigger than Branch Warren, and his gain rate was increasing constantly. He had become a bodybuilding superman, a force of nature. The amount of growth Chris’ body would achieve when he hooked up to a mass hose was a mindblowing prospect to contemplate. Chris was alternately flexing and inching his way down the counter of the lab, slamming down quarts of protein shake alternating with weight gainer drink that his assistant Mark had lined up all the way down the lab counter for him. By the time he got to the other end of the counter, he had consumed 28 quarts, seven whole gallons. “I’m prepping for when I swallow the hose!” He enthused, grinning. “I’ve never been so gorged in my life, I hope the enzymes I put in it will help me keep it all down and digest it. If this works, I’m gonna start doing it four or five times a day. That will triple my calories!” “Why don’t you lay down and relax so you can be sure to keep it down,” I advised. Chris was determined however. “No, I have to keep eating in between, and flexing. Its part of my entrainment, building the connection between bigger muscles and constant engorgement. If I puke, then I’ll re-evaluate.” He didn’t puke, his body just absorbed it all and was soon ready for more. He kept snacking and flexing. He told Mark to set up 32 more quarts in three hours for the next round. “If I can keep this up, I’ll be gaining five pounds a day within a week. I feel strong and huge as hell, like I’m turning into a wall of muscle!” When I saw how fixated on gaining more muscle he was, I urgently felt the need to increase my lust for muscle even more. I began to concentrate on it as much as possible. I could feel the urge penetrating even deeper into every part of my body. I wanted to explode with size like a star going supernova, like the big bang, like billions of big bangs! I felt a wave of growth orgasm overcome me again. It was all encompassing. I was uncontrollably high on my growth again. “Bigger! Bigger! Bigger!” I started roaring. “Huger! Bulge! Expand! Explode!” I bellowed as I stared at my body growing in the mirror. I was gone into the muscle-gasm. All sense of time and surroundings left me as I flexed and pumped and zeroed in on the expansion of my body, my muscles pulsing, nutrients gorging my gut and cramming through my circulatory system to force-feed every muscle cell in my body at an accelerating rate. I was in myself completely, feeling my muscles grow, feeling my muscles grow, feeling my muscles grow . . . By the time I returned to some kind of conscious baseline, several more hours had passed. It was four o’clock in the afternoon. Chris was still videoing me with his robot. He said that I just stood in front of the mirror and grew the whole time I was out. God, I’d grown fast! I was 7’10” and had exploded to 1680 pounds. I had done it! I was a muscle giant. I was beginning a trajectory of growth acceleration that would take me to unimaginable size and power. “Chris, I’m so huge! Does the musclegasm high accelerate my growth?” “It should. I set the system up to take fullest advantage of musclegasms when they are generated.” “Generated? What does that mean? How are they generated?” “Well, when you get very excited about your gains, it triggers a hormone release. The system detects that and amplifies it, so you can get the most pleasure and growth out of it. This is a fairly recent development in your brain, so you are being overwhelmed by it. But the more it happens the better you’ll be able to remember it, and the more you’ll be able to control it and extend it.” “But I can’t even remember it. It’s like that time is totally gone” “After a few occurrences, the system will be able to keep you alert through a musclegasm. It has to do some rewiring so your brain can withstand them. Once that is done, you’ll have more control. You’ll be able to experience them fully, and intensify them willfully. Then you can use them to grow bigger faster. Eventually, you’ll get to the point when you’ll enter an endless musclegasm that will just keep intensifying and permanently enabling your growth to accelerate exponentially. Then you’ll totally transcend human scale, and grow to be the biggest most powerful thing that ever lived!” “How soon can we make that happen?” “Well, I am trying to create a program to become self writing in ways that conform to our goal but which is endlessly expandable to keep expanding our potential and rate of growth safely and endlessly. I want it to tune perfectly into every conceivable acceleration of our growth processes. I’m writing in language to potentiate contingent pathways for gains that are literally cosmic in scale.” “What do you mean by cosmic?” “Its for when we get literally bigger than planets!” “When? Not if?” “When. We will grow that big eventually, once we have seized control of the energy resources we need to get there. This system is designed to attack and co-opt every grid on earth, and convert all of it into a single system that is solely commited to making our bodies expand without interruption. It is also designed to implement economic activity to generate technology to support us once we outgrow the planet.” “Man! That is awesome!” I heard myself say. I was totally uncritical of the idea of converting the earth’s resources into a system to make my body expand. This was a new level of lust. I overrode any socialization I had that might have restrained me. I was a pure monster of infinite muscle lust, and it felt great. “Wow, that metaroutine has really kicked in!” Chris enthused. “We are gonna be infinitely HUGE!” “How long do you think it will take me to grow as big as the earth?” “My calculations are not very precise because of the enormous number of variables involved, but I can project less than two years, and maybe in just a few months if we catch all the breaks.” “When are you going to swallow a Mass Hose and turn yourself into a megahuge musclehulk?” “Whenever any one of three things happens, either the system indicates literally infinite potential has been projected, or I weigh 500 pounds, or you reach 35 feet tall.” “Thirty-five feet tall?! Wow, at the rate I’ve been growing, that might not take very long, I’ve gotten almost two feet taller in just the last few days.” “Yeah, and it’ll get faster every day. Hey man, why don’t you go pose in the mirror again, you’ll probably be having another automatic workout within a few minutes.” Chris intoned in a low even voice. It sounded like a great idea. Chris was probably triggering a musclelust loop he’d found while monitoring my subconscious through the nano system, because I instantly wanted to stare at my body in the mirror and flex and flex and flex and flex. Part Four I stood in front of the mirror and looked at my physique. I was like no man who had ever lived. I was gigantic. I stayed relaxed for a minute and surveyed my muscles. I had muscles in my face, that made my jaw look even more powerful than it had actually grown to be. I had huge bulbous muscles in the front of my neck where mere bodybuilders had thick cords. These were nearly engulfed in trapesius muscles that swelled up and out from the bases of my ears, forming giant egg-shaped masses that bunched against my deltoids. My delts were like the rock spheres strongmen would lift during strongest man competitions. My Biceps were similar, but deeply bifurcated. My pectorals jutted up and out from the clavicle area, partially obscuring those bulbous neck cords even if I arched my back as much as possible. They formed a rough, vein covered shelf that was always in my field of vision when I looked straight ahead. My lats were also like huge globes, but distorted by all the other muscles of my torso. The video screen of my back revealed a massive mountain range of hemispherical muscles crammed against each other and against my lats. There was no way to see my spine, because the muscles around it were out and over it completely. The “Christmas tree” area was similarly covered over, and only a tiny peek at it near the base of my spine was possible. Soon my back muscles and glutes would totally cover it. In the mirror, I could see my abs, but I had to be at least fifteen feet away from it to look over my pecs at the rest of my torso and my legs. This was the only way I could see my legs, because I was unable to look down at them. My chest was just too huge. No problem though, My legs and abs were plenty big enough to be seen from a distance in the mirror. The abs gave the over all impression of a hemisphere, but not in the sense of a belly. My stomach was a gigantic block made up of smaller rounded blocks. At the base, it jutted straight out horizontally from the groin about a foot and a half, where it curved up into a wall of muscle that bashed into the bottom of my pecs. If I flexed that huge mass of ab muscles, I could push my pecs straight up in front of my eyes. I started doing it, bouncing my pecs up repeatedly, blocking my vision over and over again. When my pecs were all the way up, They were all I could see. I could see literally nothing but my own muscles. Every time that happened, It was like a trigger, building me up toward another musclegasm. Then the autoflex workout started. All of my muscles were pulsing and bulging. I began to feel my body swell faster. My body was telling my brain to acquire more food. I reached out into the system with my mind. CRAM MORE OF EVERYTHING INTO ME! MAKE ME BIGGER FASTER! BIGGER BIGGER BIGGER! MORE MORE MORE! My growth started to accelerate like never before, and I was still conscious. I was consumed with the sensation of my muscles blowing up with mass. My body was gaining muscle so fast! No living thing had ever grown muscle so fast, and it was getting even faster. I was already over eight feet tall, and the system was giving me a running total of my gains. Within five minutes after the musclegasm started I was 8’4” and weighed 2440. It kept accelerating. I kept growing up and out, towering over things, wider and thicker, heavier and stronger. I was having a simultaneous autoworkout and musclegasm! My gains reached a whole new order of magnitude. At the ten minute mark I was 9’4” and had reached 4000 pounds. Wow, TWO TONS! Before I could totally grasp the idea that I weighed over two tons, though, I was flying past it at a rate that was suddenly and dramatically even faster. My mind was starting to get overwhelmed by it, I was unable to keep any sense of awareness of the world around me. My head was totally in my body, feeling the huge masses of muscle pulse and bulge and swell. “BIGGER! BIGGER! BIGGER!! MORE! MORE! MORE!!!” I roared. I wasn’t even trying to say it, it was just happening. Like all of me was just happening more and more, bigger and bigger. I was struggling to stay conscious, to experience more of the musclegasm and not pass out. I felt my body growing beyond belief! My awareness being swallowed up in the experience. “Just enjoy the ride, man, don’t worry about anything at all” I heard Chris saying. He was speaking through the system input microphone. “You are a muscle GOD! Nothing can stop you! You can just grow and grow and grow without any limit at all. You’re going to be the biggest thing that ever lived, VERY SOON.” He was helping me to stay conscious. “Don’t worry about capturing the feeling, just feel as much as you can comfortably feel, try to get comfortable with more, and let the rest flow into you faster and faster. You can feel it all later. Now, start roaring again man! Say it with me: GROW BIGGER FASTER! MORE! MORE! MORE!! GROW BIGGER FASTER! MORE! MORE! MORE!!” I was bellowing over and over again, “GROW BIGGER FASTER! MORE! MORE! MORE!!” I was looking intently at my body in the mirror, trying to see it all happening, but then suddenly I didn’t have to any more. Chris was feeding multiple digital video feeds directly into my brain. I could see myself in ways that had never been possible before. God, I was so immense! And blowing up faster. When I started getting the video, I was 11’8” and weighed 6390. I nearly blacked out. Then I heard my own voice in the system. “Stay awake. Make it happen even faster. This is the beginning. You’re turning into a God. Keep going. Be tougher. Learn to tolerate more and more musclegasm intensity. Make it happen even faster. GROW BIGGER FASTER! MORE! MORE! MORE!! Stay awake. Make it happen even faster. You’re turning into a God. Feel it more and more. GROW BIGGER FASTER! MORE! MORE! MORE!! Stay awake. Make it happen even faster. This is the beginning. You’re turning into a God. Keep going. Be tougher. Learn to tolerate more and more musclegasm intensity. Make it happen even faster. GROW BIGGER FASTER! MORE! MORE! MORE!! Feel it more and more.” I was using the system to hypnotize myself. I was not fully alert, but I was not blacking out from the pleasure overload, My body and brain were learning to take it, and to amplify it even. Then Chris started talking again. “Go ahead man, make yourself hundreds of times bigger, thousands of times bigger, millions of times bigger!! You’re riding the wave now, nothing can stop you, just EXPLODE! Like a supernova, man! You’re just getting started. GO for it. REACH in there and grab more size, more muscle, more power! Grab it all!” I could feel the truth of what Chris was saying. The potential of the system was barely being tapped. I could get much huger, much faster. I felt the system integrating more intimately with my body and synchronizing more with my mind. I heard my voice again: “Let your body open up totally to endless accelerating growth. Build your lust for infinite muscle. Open the floodgates. Let more and more size flow into you. It is effortless. Just let it happen.” “Stay awake. Make it happen even faster. This is the beginning. You’re turning into a God. Keep going. Be tougher. Learn to tolerate more and more musclegasm intensity. Make it happen even faster. Build your lust for infinite muscle. You want all the size in the universe. Turn it all into you. Blow yourself up. It is effortless. GROW BIGGER FASTER! MORE! MORE! MORE!! Let your body open up to more and more mass. Gain. Expand. Bulge. Swell. EXPLODE! DO IT NOW!” Then it started. I was growing faster and faster, My size was increasing faster than I’d ever even dreamed of growing. At twenty five minutes into the musclegasm, I was 21’ 8” tall, and weighed 42,380 pounds, for a second. But then I was bigger, and bigger. At half an hour in, I was 26 feet tall, and up to 65,100 pounds. That was over twenty thousand pounds of muscle in five minutes. I was totally conscious, and totally in control. I was directing more and more power and mass into myself as fast as I could. I was trying very hard to amplify my lust even more, drawing more and more from the system. In five more minutes, I was 33’ 6” tall, 102,800 pounds. “Ed, this is it!” I heard Chris say, “You’re in the permanent musclegasm!” He gushed breathlessly. “Man, your body is so fuckin’ huge! Its incredible! This is it. I’m swallowing my mass hose, man!” I saw him stick the terminus in his mouth and punch in the program. Within seconds, he was growing visibly bigger. “How are you starting out so fast?” I thought aloud. “Ed, my body is plugged into your musclegasm mode. Oh my god! This is AWESOME! I’m going to be infinite! I’m awake. This is the beginning. I’m turning into a God. I can tolerate more and more musclegasm intensity. Make me grow even faster. GROW BIGGER FASTER! MORE! MORE! MORE!! ME! ME! ME!! MORE OF ME!! MORE OF ME!!” He was expanding like wildfire. In less than five minutes he was already over eight feet tall, and weighed over half a ton. In another five minutes he was 15’ 2” and weighed over 35,000 pounds, 12,000 more than I had weighed at that height. “BIGGER BIGGER BIGGER! MORE! MORE! MORE!!” Chris bellowed triumphantly. He looked up at me with a gleeful smile on his face. “Now I’m going to catch up with you.” He pushed a button on the control panel. INSTANTLY, he began to accelerate more and more, visibly engulfing the space around his already gargantuanly thick body. In one minute, he was 21’4” tall and weighed 80,000 pounds. He was almost as wide at the shoulders as he was tall. In another minute he had done it, and more. I had grown to 35 feet tall, and 144,200 pounds. Chris was also 35 feet tall, but he weighed 210,800 pounds. Then he continued to accelerate even faster, blowing up and out. He was expanding by orders of magnitude. He ambled outside, dragging part of the thousand yard cable behind him. Five minutes after he pushed the button, Chris reached 484 feet tall and weighed 12,925,300 pounds. He was over 50 times bigger than me, and still exploding. “Chris, can you plug me into this? I’m not growing nearly as fast as you are.” “I’ll get back to you in a while, Ed. Don’t worry, I’m not leaving you behind.” That sounded a little reassuring, but soon, Chris was oblivious to me, booming out his Mantra again: “BIGGER BIGGER BIGGER! MORE! MORE! MORE! I’m turning into a GOD. I’m building more and more musclegasm intensity. I will grow even faster. GROW BIGGER FASTER! MORE! MORE! MORE!! ME! ME! ME!! MORE OF ME! MORE OF ME! ME, ME, ME! ME! ME! ME! ME!” By the time he finished saying it, he was huge beyond belief. I had reached 60 feet tall and weighed 440,650 pounds, but I had to look almost straight up to see him. I couldn’t tell exactly how tall he was by looking, because the muscles of his torso totally hid his neck and head from my perspective, but he was mountainous. The system indicated that he was 2550 feet tall, and weighed 101,410,200 pounds. “Ed, I’m the biggest thing that ever lived on this planet. There’s only one goal left, and that’s to be bigger than the whole planet itself. But I need YOU to get me there. My growth just now was just a preliminary test. To calibrate the system so to speak. But now it’s your turn. I’ve built a transmission system that doesn’t need a hose to feed us. You just swallow a terminus and it receives nutrients and system connections that are broadcast into our bodies. We can go anywhere in range of the Earth’s satellites and it will feed us. The computer is gearing up to run it right now.” “Where is it?” I shouted desperately. “Its in the blue bin alongside the building there behind you.” Chris said, pointing down at it. I turned around and saw the bin. I quickly opened it. Inside were four orange marbled spheres, each about the size of a large grapefruit. “Take two of those and swallow them now.” Chris intoned. I remembered the dream I’d had about the orange marble. I greedily gulped down the spheres. “This will be overwhelming for a few minutes. You’ll probably pass out, so maybe you should just lie down. You’re about to experience power that no human other than you and I ever ever even dreamed was possible. Are you ready?” “Yes!” I roared. “Give it to me!” Chris held his hand down to the bin and touched the other two spheres. They clung to his hand as if they had static electricity. “Okay, when you catch up to me, I’ll swallow mine! GO!” I heard his mind issue a command to the system, and I started to transcend the scale of life on earth, as Chris had a few minutes earlier. My body felt like a giant meat manufacturing machine. I kept billowing out and up with height and mass that was unbelievable. I was transforming into a cosmically huge muscle colossus. My ultimate fantasy was coming true. I felt the mass building by megatons all over me, thickening my physique even as I soared taller and taller. “MORE!” I bellowed, shaking the ground with my voice. I was already 250 feet tall and weighed over eight million pounds. “MORE! MORE MORE MORE!!!” Two minutes later, I was 1000 feet tall, and weighed 72,823,500 pounds. I was a living muscle mountain, and accelerating like mad with more size. In another minute my growth was almost unfathomable. I was hanging on to consciousness by a thread. I heard Chris in my head. “Faster, man! Concentrate on sucking in the power. Up to now, you’ve been just letting the system blow you up. Now you need to focus your mind. Reach out and feel all the ways you can absorb more power. Draw on the system as hard as you can. Think of the hardest set you ever did, how you pushed yourself to the limit. Do that now. Pull on the energy flow. You are a gigantic muscle God. Your muscle growth engine has now established access to all of the power grids on the planet. It is your power. Take it, take MORE of it, Take it faster, Take it ALL! Go Supernova man!” I was reeling. Chris had already tapped into the power of the whole world, and I didn’t even know he’d started on that yet! I was blowing up like a hydrogen bomb explosion. My brain was scrambling to grab hold and control the system, reaching out, feeling all the places power could come from, dragging it back into me. I was working as hard as I could to create cycles that would move power from everywhere I could connect to and bring it all into my body. It was starting to work. I could feel more and more nutrients and energy coming on line, accelerating my body’s expansion. My brain was developing a huge amount of processing power that was totally locked in to the process of slamming more mass into myself. I was the world’s most powerful and dedicated musclehead. Five minutes had passed. I was 4750 feet high, and my body had expanded to muscular proportions I could never have conceived of even an hour before: 677,258,550 pounds. “BIGGER! MORE! TAKE MORE! GROW FASTER!!” Chris commanded. I nearly swooned, realizing that it WAS possible to get more efficient and grow much faster yet. “Get ten times bigger every SECOND!” Chris was screaming encouragement. “Turn as much of everything as you can into more of you as fast as you can!” Chris was directing me, helping me gain far more than I ever would have on my own. He was making sure that I really would grow as big as a planet. I was already well over a mile high, and at nearly two billion pounds, I felt like I was making a dent in the earth’s crust. That was not literally true yet, but it would happen soon enough. “GROW! SWELL! ABSORB EVERYTHING!” Chris intoned. I didn’t care if it was his will or mine that was driving the process, I just got off on my body exploding with size faster and faster. I had abandoned all critical thinking, and was drenched in infinite muscle lust. I kept finding more and more ways to force my body to expand faster and faster. I had vast mental power at my disposal as most of the planet’s computing grid connected to my extended brain. I could feel every individual muscle cell, and all the new ones I was growing by the millions every second. Each cell felt like a fully pumped muscle, gorging on more and more power, pulsing and bulging with constantly exponentially increasing mass. My body was in a state of ever expanding musclegasm, and my mind was relentlessly finding more ways to increase my will to grow , and my ability to indulge my desire for endless gains. “GrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrow GrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrowGrow GrowGrowGrow…” There was a constant background loop running in my head with both my voice and Chris’ voice urging me on. It just kept happening faster and faster. On top of that, I heard Chris gushing: “Ed, in a few minutes you’re gonna be bigger than the Moon! Do it man, Consume everything!! Fill the world with your muscles!” This was perfect. It was the best thing ever. I was going to do exactly what Chris said, as fast as possible. “Ed, become the whole universe! Become the whole universe! Do it!! Faster!” I didn’t know if I was really close to the size of the moon, because doing the comparison would take away from my absolute concentration on making myself bigger, and I wasn’t about to allow that to happen. I didn’t care. I knew that ultimately, the Moon would be like an atom compared to me. I felt my body in more detail than I ever had before, every muscle cell, every movement. There was constant movement, even though I wasn’t intentionally moving. I was moving just by growing so fast. The visual feed showed me images that were astounding, awe inspiring, orgasmic. I could see myself growing beyond the whole scale of life on Earth. My body towered over the landscape, bulged out with muscular development never before imagined. I had grown into a force of nature. My mental processes were gleefully acquiring more and more of the planet’s resources. I suddenly could reach into Chris’ mind. I began to take inventory of everything that had been going on inside his head. His lust for cosmic orders of muscular growth was unbelievable. He had been consciously building his desire since childhood. My programs told me to take all of that in. I began to duplicate his motivation and fuse it to my own consciousness. I suddenly had a level of greed and lust that would have been unfathomable to me only moments earlier. New loops began playing in my mind by the hundreds. They were like heavy metal orchestras extolling my expanding power: “I will grow infinitely huge. I am growing into a star-eating God. All the matter in the universe will become part of my body. The cosmos is turning into my muscles. Everything will be ME!” It was intoxicating, even to my hugely expanded brain. I couldn’t resist it even if I’d wanted to. I just embraced it, engulfed it into my innermost psyche. Then Chris revealed something he’d been holding back somehow, the broadcasting matter converters. They were machines that could consume and convert any matter into energy that would then broadcast to designated spheres or other receptacles. He tuned them into my orange spheres. My spheres began to replicate and enlarge inside my body. Then he switched them to run mode. The converter/broadcasters started consuming everything around them and broadcasting it into my body. My body began to explode almost instantly by orders of magnitude. He had created a system that was forcing my body to consume the planet. I was happy to do it. I wanted to absorb the whole universe. The loops were getting louder. “I will grow infinitely huge. I am growing into a star-eating God. All the matter in the universe will become part of my body. The cosmos is turning into my muscles. Everything will be ME!” I felt great! I felt the matter streaming into me, pouring in, flooding in. My nanotechnology was directing the absorption perfectly. I was growing mountains of muscle, continents of muscle, moons of muscle. My body really was now as big as the Earth’s moon. I felt lust for more and more size. The Earth was being hollowed out and converted into my muscle mass. I wanted it all. I wanted the planets and the Sun, and I was confident that Chris had made sure they would be consumed into me. I was going to consume all the stars, all the galaxies, all of space, EVERYTHING. It was speeding up. Within ten more minutes I was already bigger than the Earth. The converters were dissolving the mass of the solar systerm and shoving it all into my body faster and faster. My mind could feel the cosmic vastness of each muscle in my body, exploding thicker and huger by the second. Chris had set up the system so that we could consume matter merely by looking at it and thinking about it. I looked at the sun. I was now literally becoming a Star-Eating Muscle God. The Sun began to turn into me. More and more of its huge reserves of energy were cramming into my muscles. My mind was exploding with orgasmic pleasure. “I am consuming a whole star! And when I’m done I’ll be big enough to start consuming the rest of the Galaxy!” “Eat it all, soak it up! Fix your gaze as far away as you can, so more matter is encompassed by your view. CONSUME EVERYTHING YOU SEE!! Turn it all into your body. Feel everything turning into your muscles!” I knew then that Chris had sublimated his lust into my own. He had gotten so huge just to give me a sense of scale. Once I could see it I could conceive of it as a reality in myself. Chris stopped talking. He knew nothing else needed to be said. He knew that I was accelerating my lust and my growth exponentially each second. Now there was infinity laid out before me. I was ready to become everything, to convert the universe into my infinite, hormone-drenched muscle mass. There was no other possible outcome. I was building my body and my lust beyond cosmic hugeness, and would continue doing so throughout all eternity. I reveled in the immensity of myself, of the sensation of unlimited mass and power constantly flowing into my body, the growth of my muscles by orders of magnitude, my mass thickening by light years.
  9. "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After NG "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - Inside Zaftig's Lab: The Musclemen Revealed Chapters 7, 8 Precis so far: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. Chapter 7: Training Night 1: Good for Morale October 20th, 2017 1900 Hours The gym floor was buzzing with activity. Each man had a 5-gallon aluminum jug of water from which he regularly took enormous gulps, occasionally pausing to drench both himself and his training partners as needed to stave off the effects of the heat. All wore specially designed army green jockstraps. Regulation jocks were hardly adequate for their needs, and all 19 men (and especially Sergeant Moster) required XXX-large custom-fit pouches. Pendulously bulging, sweat, cum, and piss-stained, even these firm-gripping supersized mesh pouches could barely contain the musclemen’s super-sized genitalia. Gently curving cock shafts plunged from heavily veined, thin-skinned pelvic girdles on each man, leading to jaw-breaking cockheads. The jocks hugged the men’s cocks tightly, providing only barely adequate covering. Moster’s policy was that shorts and sweatpants were unnecessarily encumbering. All around the room, as the men moved from weight to weight, their mountainous packages swayed freely back and forth. On most of the men, the top 5 to 6 inches of their veiny cocks were visible, plunging into their over-burdened pouches. The men’s powerful, deeply striated glutes were fully exposed in back. Colorful do-rags, thick cable socks and black army boots completed their attire. On the floor, workout buddies Private Dan Gunst and Private Steve Waring were spotting each other through a sixth set of murderous curls. 24, 6'-10", 375 pounds, blond, huge, sporting a severe crew cut, and with a big nose and oversized hands, Gunst was a decidedly homely muscle giant, packed with imposing hardcore brawn. His bullish traps sloped massively from his 24” neck. The man’s 27-3/4 inch biceps were second only in girth and mass to Sgt. Moster’s, though he hadn’t yet attained the shapely cannonball peaks of Corporals Schumacher, Obatu, Blankenship and Alvarez. At 3.8% bodyfat he tended towards a thin coat of luminous bloat in his 375-pound physique; he was all the same, super-humanly powerful, and during his training sessions the bloat seemed to melt into a latticework of shrink-wrapped vascularity. His partner, the 26-year old Steve Waring, was uncommonly good-looking, if, at a mere 276 pounds of raw muscle, not nearly as big as Gunst. He was, however the far more ripped bodybuilder, having been in the program 2 years longer. His vascularity was astonishing, a complex map of thick, dizzying, zig-zag veins that criss-crossed his magnificent physique. Square-jawed, dimpled and brown-eyed, he always had a neatly groomed 2-day beard. As expected for a leaner man, Waring’s particular beauty lay in his batwing lat spread and chiseled abs, which tapered radically into a mere 29” waist. Cobbled, veiny abs lead down to his fearsome bulge. Now Waring was up. He tied on a pair of dirty wristbands and cinched them tightly, licked his lips, approached the 160-pound weight, and looked up at Gunst with a half smile. “What’re you waitin’ for? C’mon, get moving,” said Gunst impatiently. “It’s my third set.” “I know. C’mon, man, you’re stalling.” “You know what I want.” Waring winked and grinned, and his dimples broadened deeply. Gunst rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Jesus. You and your third set mantras.” He leaned into Waring, cupped his palm, and roughly took the jock pouch bearing his partner’s heavy balls into his calloused hand. He flicked Waring’s leathery testicles with his thick thumb and with strong fingers stroked the curling cock shaft tucked into the jock. Waring closed his eyes and exploded breath. Gunst fondled the cock, feeling where the 11” flaccid shaft coiled into a sagging downward-pointing firehose U-shape. His own cock began to stiffen as the pouch bearing Waring’s junk began to expand under his touch. He gave a last thumb flick and stepped back. “Yeah!” shouted Waring, and he squatted, grabbed the weight, stood, and reeled off 15 perfectly executed curls. The veins in his biceps expanded and contracted powerfully, eddying currents of blood in a river of muscle. 40 feet away at the incline bench press, Privates Aja Jin, Reed Bogarde and Derek Washington were taking turns doing dumbbell flyes with 125 pound weights. Ginger-haired Bogarde was up, while black muscle giant Private Washington spotted him, and the Asian Private Jin muttered hyper-masculine, mono-syllabic bon mots of encouragement. "C'mon. Get big. Get huge. C'mon man. Push. We're right here." The three heavyweights were generally together. If they weren’t closely supervised, they’d spend more time than absolutely necessary on pec workouts. A year before they had petitioned Moster to be allowed to wear their prized brass chained nipple clamps during their training. Moster had refused at first, but after they appealed to Dr. Zaftig, he finally relented. “The pain inspires them,” Zaftig told him. Moster had to agree that this one time, he had been wrong to withhold his approval. And once again, it was good for morale. The chain to Bogarde’s clamps was draped over the t-shirt and lay across his mammoth, boyishly freckled pecs. He’d completed 11 reps seamlessly, but was now pausing, his arms open wide, the dumbbells held aloft. “Do, it, man,” he growled, and as Moster watched, Private Jin reached over and with gentle, adroit firmness, tugged slightly on the chain. Bogarde’s face contorted with pain. "Push, asswipe!" screamed Jin. Bogarde completed the set. “Thanks, buddy,” he breathed, as he slammed the weights to the floor and sat up. “Privates!” Moster called out. “Remember I want to see you remove those clamps every 10 minutes for an exact period of 20 more minutes!” “Yes, sir,” said Washington, about to take his seat on the bench for his set. “By my watch, it has been more than 11 minutes. Those clamps come off. Now.” “Shit,” muttered Washington, but he duly turned to Private Jin. “Take care of this for me, and I’ll do for you.” “Okay,” said Jin. He lifted Washington’s t-shirt, and gently unscrewed the clamp on the left nipple. Instantly Washington’s face contorted with pain. Jin leaned in and tenderly licked the swelling brown nipple with his tongue for a few moments. Washington nodded, and Jin repeated it for the right nipple. “I’m good,” he said. Jin lifted his shirt and Washington returned the favor, caressing Jin’s nipples with his tongue as he removed each biting clamp. “Hey, what about me?” Bogarde grinned, slipping off his t-shirt. His large nipples pointed heavily downward, with lusciously round, perfect aureoles. He pumped his 58” ripped chest fully, fists at his side, and stood smiling expectantly as his two muscle buddies moved into his side, their heads to Bogarde’s chest, each manning a clamped nipple. For Private Bogarde, the only good thing about the unclamping was the minute of stimulation he received from his buddies to keep the excruciating pain he so adored from making him instantly cum into his overstuffed jockstrap. Once he came, his partners knew the chest workout would be effectively derailed for a good 15 minutes, and so to prevent such time wasting, both men were inclined to be extra attentive. Over time, they developed a routine. Together the two bodybuilders carefully unscrewed the clamps, and swiftly leaned in to kiss, lick, bite, stroke, and caress Bogarde’s freed, erect nipples. Bogarde moaned, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, his cock now swelling threateningly in his jockstrap. “Shit,” he moaned, and his buddies glanced down at the straining pouch. His mushroom-round penis head poked heavily over the top and began to climb up his abs. Jin and Washington knew that he might shoot his load at any moment. The two double-timed their nipple licks. After a minute, their tender administrations allowed him to regain control. He nodded – he was okay – and they backed away. Satisfied, Bogarde pumped his pecs to their fullest size and inspected them both closely, nodding with serious, unsmiling self-approval. Wet with spit, his stiffened nipples bloomed. “Freaky,” he breathed. His buddies nodded. “Awesome pecs,” said Jin. “Awesome.” Bogarde stuffed his receding cock back into his jock, and winked at Moster. Moster watched. When it was clear Private Bogarde was past danger, he called out again. “Back to your work. You have twenty more minutes before you can put those damn clamps on again.” The men nodded dutifully. Washington sat, grabbed a dumbbell in each hand, hoisted them to his knees, leaned back, and effortlessly pushed them both to the ceiling. His chest expanded mightily. Bogarde shouted the count. “1! 2! 3!” Jin spotted, his powerful hands lightly meeting Washington’s elbows with each rep. For a moment, Bogarde fondled his smarting nipples tenderly. He caught Moster’s stern eye and, still counting Washington’s reps, nodded sheepishly and slipped back into his sopping wife-beater. Corporals Rene LeFevre, Tony Chad and Private Chris Hension were supersetting between bent-over single-arm rows and military presses. The massively muscled corporals, both in their mid-30’s, were the compound practical jokers. Their perfect foil was the slightly dopey 22-year old, 260-pound superheavyweight Private Hension, a square-jawed, curly-haired, dreamily handsome inductee who had only been admitted into the ranks of The Nineteen from the cadet squad six months before. Hension's face was so unusually beautiful that he was catnip for all who gazed upon him. With his deep blue eyes, perfectly square jaw, high cheekbones, imposing Roman nose, thick eyebrows, short curly black hair, powerful young physique and endearing, gap-toothed smile, he looked like a hyper muscular refugee from some crazy TigerBeat boy band. Teen muscles personified, and unusually huge, though he was 3 years past his teens already. His hazing was not quite over. Tonight he was burning from the red-hot chili powder LeFevre and Chad had worked into the folds of his jockstrap. Early in the workout he had waddled with his bodybuilder’s muscle-laden stride over to the 50-gallon water cooler, pulled down his jock, and poured a quart of refreshingly cold water onto his stinging red shaft. Every ten minutes he had to return to the cooler as his P-21 enhanced, ever-growing penis began burning anew. He couldn’t figure it out and was embarrassed. The fabric of his jock was now transparent with wetness, and the crimson outlines of his snake-coiled penis could be seen glowing painfully. LeFevre and Chad hid their grins innocently as a baffled Hension trudged back towards them, his fingers gently probing and rearranging his drooping big package for maximum comfort. “Something the matter, Private?” asked LeFevre. Hension nodded. “My junk hurts,” he said. He still wasn’t entirely used to the newly achieved girth of his organ. “And it itches.” “You keepin’ it clean?” “Sure.” He stuck his hand in his jock. “It’s getting too big. It don’t fit in these jocks.” “How big?” LeFevre winked at Chad. “I ain’t measured.” “Really?” “You lie.” “Okay, it’s past 10 inches now.” “About the medium point, then.” “You’re probably jerkin’ off too much.” “All that new size. Kinda hot, right?” “Gotta wipe all that jism off after you shoot, son.” “I keep it clean,” Hension protested. “Okay,” said Chad. “We can take of that later for you.” “Thanks,” said Hension, and then he noted the wicked gleam in Chad’s eyes. “Oh, you assholes,” he whined. “What did you do?” His buddies began to roar. Furious, Hension grabbed a 200-pound dumbbell and flew through a set of punishing one arm bent-over rows. His wide back roiled with shifting mountains of muscle, and as he jerked and lifted, his damp wife-beater gradually crept up to reveal his hardened, vulnerable butt, pumping up and down, undulating with each rep. A red handprint from a private discipline session with Sergeant Moster the night before still glowed on the right buttcheek. And the men laughed even harder. “You got it coming and going!” said LeFevre. Hension slammed the weight into the mat, turned abruptly and placed his big hands protectively against his ass. Then he grinned. “Yeah, yeah, it’s funny, so go laugh!” Inside his jock, his stinging member twitched. Private Hension liked humiliation. In fact, there was nothing he liked better, and both Chad and LeFevre were onto it. As far as they were concerned, the handsome Private’s hazing would continue indefinitely. Just two weeks before, Corporal Chad had hacked into Hension’s private PC and found links to dominatrix S&M websites on Hension’s private PC, with cum-stained downloaded jpegs and pngs of leather-clad, spike-heeled mistresses, face-slapping hapless, undersized men. Mixed in with the images were pictures of a huge muscleman tied up with ropes and chains, a rubber ball in his mouth and an enormous butt plug shoved up his anus. Hension’s private fantasy – and he was a little embarrassed about it, which was only good manners – was to get his face slapped, viciously and unrelentingly, by beautiful, affronted, enraged women. He dreamed of being caught sucking Alvarez’s massive cock, and being interrupted, and hauled to his feet by a beautiful blonde mistress of discipline, who would slap his handsome face repeatedly, leaving welting, bright red, stinging handprints on his clean-shaven cheeks. His head would whip from left to right, from right to left, under her powerful bitch slaps. Happy tears would roll down his face onto his stinging cheeks. “Aw, baby…” he’d cry, pretending to be in pain. “Don’t slap me!” And his mighty cock would also whip from side to side. “You deserve to get your face slapped, you filthy muscle slut!” SLAP. And meanwhile, Alvarez would drop to his knees and lovingly administer skillful oral to his massive cock. This dream of slapping punishment from angry mistresses filled his nightly jerk off fantasies. Chad printed up a few and privately slipped them to LeFevre, who laughed devilishly. “Someone’s been in my room playing with my computer,” Hension complained that night at dinner. The two feigned innocence. “Why, how can you tell?” asked Chad innocently. “Because the asswipe left it on.” “That might have been you.” “Nope. The asswipe left it on at a website I like. I would never do that.” The men roared. Hension pouted. “Don’t worry, baby face. Maybe some day soon on a field trip, we can set up a surprise for you, now that we know what you like.” Hension brightened. “Really?” he asked hopefully. “We’ll see if you’re a good boy. Why don’t you come by for some posing practice tonight?” “O—okay,” he said, shooting a furtive look at Corporal Alvarez and Private Lang, quietly sharing a table on the other side of the dining room. Chad caught it and for an instant was jealous. He knew Hension longed to be a part of Alvarez and Lang’s notorious “Pose and Approve” nightly sessions. Private Robert Lang was a younger version face and body look-alike for his buddy, Corporal Julio Alvarez. The same exact height, the two bodybuilders kept their bodies shaved, and might easily have been mistaken for one another at a distance, if it weren’t for Alvarez’s neatly trimmed mustache. Alvarez also boasted the same brutal muscles, the same sweep to his triceps, the same broad back, and the same peerless baseball biceps. Older, wiser, and a touch serene about his muscles, he and Lang were like brothers. Brothers, however, they weren’t, and they exhibited no instinctive physical filial reticence with one another. Lang, standing 5’ – 10” and weighing in at 285 pounds, was dark, serious, extraordinarily handsome, and brutally built. Secretly unsure of himself, he sought approval whenever he could, a little mortified by the beauty of his face. He had pronounced horseshoe triceps of uncommonly full sweep, an impressively broad back, and, as Alvarez noted, a beautifully rounded muscle bubblebutt graced with an almost horizontal butt shelf. To help bolster Lang’s flagging self-confidence, Alvarez – without question the alpha dog of this pairing, even as he was the slightly bigger muscleman - developed a ritual he called “Pose and Approve.” At first, it developed quite naturally. Over time, it had evolved into mutual muscle worship. Alvarez’s judgment and approval of Lang’s muscles were his drug of choice, next to P21, that is, and his own brutally punishing workouts. They started out privately in Alvarez’s room. From the first night, he was ready. An 8’-0” x 10’-0” lit posing dais dominated the back bedroom in his quarters. “Built it myself,” he said quietly as Lang stared at the polished wood surface. When did he find the time, Lang wondered. Alvarez carefully adjusted the cool LED lights. Lang watched eagerly, stripping down to tight posers straining under the weight of his throbbing, veiny penis. Alvarez took his sweet time setting lights and atmosphere. Lang watched, shoving his hand into his sagging pouch and absently manipulating his big tool to half erection. When he judged all was ready, he’d step back. “Okay. Get to work,” he said. Eagerly Lang jumped onstage and hit a front double biceps. Alvarez nodded his approval of his buddy’s muscles. “Nice. Big old cannonballs. Show me more.” Another pose. This time a side chest. Lang’s pecs pounded and seemed to reach the ceiling. His heavy nipples were already taut. “How do I look?” Lang asked nervously. “Looking all right,” Alvarez said casually. “Lights need adjusting.” He half turned away as if to check the wiring. This prompted Lang into frenzy, and he began whipping out pose after pose. “The lights are fucking fine! I’m smokin’!” he cried. “Look at me, Alvarez! Check out my muscles! I’m fucking huge!!!!” Alvarez smiled. “Okay, big man,” he said. “I see. I see what you need.” And casually bending in, he took Lang’s by-now rock hard penis into his mouth and lolled it about gently. Inside, his tongue stroked the long, thick shaft, working its way up and down the veins. “It’s your reward for your perfectly developed muscles.” Lang was in heaven. Then they switched. Alvarez stepped up and surpassed his buddy’s posing performance. As he flexed, Lang sank gratefully to his knees to admire his musclegod buddy. Alvarez hit a pose - wham! - and Lang would greedily slurp on his gigantic rod. "Boom," purred Alvarez. "Big biceps, baby." "Twenty fiiiii---vvve inches...." "Bullshit." "Twenty-five baby. Feel 'em. Suck my cock." "You got it. Sucking now, man." They went back and forth for hours. Flexing biceps, smacking roiling quads, pec dancing, sucking each other's cocks. After a few sessions, Lang developed a surprisingly insatiable taste for Alvarez's stunningly perfect glutes, and sometimes lost himself rimming the man's rosebud butthole while Alvarez posed, legs spread wide, gazing at himself thoughtfully in the wall-length mirror across the room from the dais. Whenever Lang's face was buried deeply in the bigger man's butt, Alvarez found his creative posing juices to be inspired, and he was able to flex for hours without getting tired. Over time, they worked out new routines this way. Of course, Alvarez and Lang had long since taken “Pose and Approve” into more stratospheric, not to mention more public, levels of performance during the last year. The men liked to watch, and occasionally were invited to join in. For more than a year now, the men all knew that Lang slipped whenever he could into Alvarez’s room late at night for an hour of nearly silent shared posing routines and powerful rounds of cocksucking. At the end of their private sessions, each man could be heard roaring in the compound’s corridors as he spurted a mighty ejaculation inside his buddy’s mouth, onto his abs, or inside his yielding bubble butt. Just a week before, when a confidence-challenged Lang was standing in front of the corner mirrors after general workout, trying vainly to figure out a new routine, coach Alvarez decided to take it public. After all, all the men knew. And were curious. And were watching. Eagerly. Even Karim bothered to look up from his own fascination with his flexing biceps. Alvarez directed Lang from pose to pose, nodding. He ran his fingers smoothly over his body. Then he dropped quickly to his knees, stripped off his jockstrap, took his cock into his mouth, and continued to direct him from there. “Bring your right arm up a little. Now tilt your head. Look up. Pretend you see something,” garbled Alvarez, his mouth full of Lang’s cock. “What am I looking at?” asked Lang, a little anxious. “Clouds. You see clouds. Good. More clouds. Right. Here’s your reward.” Alvarez licked his cock hard for a minute. “It’s like he’s licking an ice cream cone,” said Hension. “An ice cream cone with veins,” said Blankenship. Washington stared, grinning. Lang colored slightly. In his jock, his heavy penis head began to expand and push against the thick fabric. “Yo, bodybuilders deserve to get their cocks sucked while they’re posing,” Lang said dreamily, flexing. “I’m down with it,” said Washington. “You can suck mine next.” And Lang did. Alvarez sucked Lang’s dick approvingly, licking the thick shaft lovingly. Then he pulled back to allow Lang to pivot to the next pose. Lang crunched into a most muscular, Alvarez nodded again with serious respect, and sucked him as his reward, as his buddy held a crab shot for 60 full seconds. They moved as one: pivot, flex, a nod of approval, a minute of cocksucking, withdrawal, pivot, flex, another nod, another minute of cocksucking. Absorbed by their mutual passion of posing together, the two silently went into matching, impromptu routines, flexing their powerful guns in unison as if choreographed, slapping their quads, turning to flair their lats, all the while staring appreciatively, each transfixed by the other. And the men stared, too. Soon all they all joined in. The workout was effectively over. Cocks filled mouths for the next hour. Rough, calloused hands appreciatively patted and stroked flexed biceps. Pecs danced. Tongues licked sand dollar sized, downward pointing nipples. Moster was not pleased. Nevertheless, he waited until the last groans had finished, and the last drops of the quarts of ejaculated bodybuilder cum had burst from throbbing cocks down eager throats. "Are we finished?" he asked quietly. The men lined up, sheepish, all with dripping cocks and cum flecks on their lips. Hension's face, inevitably, was covered. "It got into my eyes," he complained. Smack! "Owwwww!" he yelled. Moster waited, and then spoke quietly. “There’s a time and a place for everything,” he barked, all sheepish and spent, wiping the cum from their lips and bodies. After that, Moster determined to keep Lang and Alvarez separated on the floor as much as possible, for the two men were so – was ‘inspired’ the word? – attuned to one another’s powerful physiques that the Sergeant had determined it would be more efficient for all if they trained apart. It always led to “Pose and Approve,” behavior that Moster determined was more efficiently left to the locker room and showers. “Pose and Approve” was all very well for private time, but on the gym floor the men had been known in the past to become hypnotized by one another’s muscles. On rest days, of course, Moster kept them completely separated. That was an order. These days, the two grudgingly but unquestioningly yielded to their CO’s command. Once, Moster had caught them together outside on a bike path on a prescribed rest day, both naked, erect, and posing feverishly. He watched silently for a few moments, waiting for the inevitable moment when Lang sank to his knees and greedily gathered Alvarez’s cock in his mouth. “Gentlemen!” he boomed, striding forward onto the path. “Today is a rest day!” He swung mightily, he clipped the surprised Alvarez right on the jaw. The punch felled the muscleman immediately. Even the usually arrogant Alvarez was a mere beta puppy before the 7’-0” Moster. “In my quarters! Now!” Ten minutes later a cowed Alvarez was stretched over Moster’s powerful knee, receiving a serious butt paddling. Lang stood by nervously, knowing he was next. “You’re like two bad boys,” he said gruffly as he spanked Alvarez’s perfectly rounded buttocks. Neither man protested, each watching the other meekly as he received punishment from the implacable giant Moster. The loud spanks were heard echoing down the hall for 40 minutes. The men sat in the mess and listened to the spanks and howls. “No one crosses Moster,” Schumacher said airily, to no one in particular. The distant sound of spanks bounced off the walls. Perfect musclebutts were receiving perfect punishment. “Gee, what did they do?” asked a fearful Hension. “Someday you’ll find out,” said LeFevre darkly. He winked at Chad. Later, they emerged sheepishly from Moster’s quarters, red-faced and gingerly rubbing their painfully reddened glutes. The two were barred from contact of any kind for three weeks. Moreover, the enforced temporary change in the training schedule upset all of the men, who privately handled the transgression in their own manner. There was a strict code of punishments the men had privately devised and agreed upon over the years, and when training violations occurred, the offender was subject to the discipline of the group, most often provided by a steely-eyed Corporate Karim Abdul. The night after their ordeal with Moster, Abdul and Gunst visited the men in their quarters. The men each stood meekly, as Karim punched their faces with cool precision. Then he spanked them both, followed by Gunst’s stern force-feeding of his cock. Then, for good measure, both men thoroughly fucked their butts. The next morning at chow, each man sported two black eyes. Their flanks ached, and closer inspection revealed that sitting was painful for more reasons than were immediately apparent. “Dudes, what happened to you?” shouted Chad across the mess hall. “Shut the fuck up,” grumbled Alvarez. “Report to the infirmary,” said Moster. “Sergeant, begging your pardon, we’re fine.” “As you prefer, Privates.” “Abdul stretched the shit out of my asshole last night,” Lang complained quietly to Alvarez. “Me too,” Alvarez asked. Silence. Then they both laughed quietly. “Was it worth it?” asked Alavrez. “Fuck yeah,” said Lang. Nevertheless, the men grudgingly acknowledged privately it was their due desserts. After that, Lang and Alvarez obeyed orders, and it didn’t happen again. Their eyes healed quickly and though they remained separated at night, soon they were back on the gym floor the same day Moster suspended their sentence. “No sense in losing perfectly good training time for those two. They’ve learned their lesson,” Moster said to Zaftig, who was always puzzled by the developing social rules within his own lab rats. Three weeks passed, and the night they were finally reunited, Moster smiled privately to himself in his quarters as the excited groans of the two reunited men echoed down the corridors long after hours. The next morning, far from being tired, they appeared at 0700 hours breakfast as if entirely rejuvenated. The other men looked a little weary, having been kept awake all night, but all were in grudging good humor now that the two muscle buddies were together again. Backs were slapped and good-natured jibes taken with grinning good grace. “Have fun last night, Lang?” teased Obatu. “Yep,” said Lang, his mouth full of eggs. “Alvarez get any bigger in the last three weeks?” “He sure did,” Lang nodded seriously, chewing and swallowing. The men guffawed, and Alvarez smacked Lang playfully on the back of the head with a giant paw. “What’d I say?” asked Lang, perplexed, and the men laughed harder. Across the table, Karim never looked up. Faggots, he thought. Still, his cock twitched in his jock. He had liked punching the handsome faces of both Alvarez and Lang, though he didn’t want to admit it, and the crisply delivered black eyes he had administered had made it all even more exciting. And the fucking was fun, too. Moster was satisfied. All in all, it was good for the team. Good for morale. Chapter 8: Tiffany’s Talent Karim was in the corner, working out on the punching bag. His buddies, if the taciturn Lebanese from Michigan could have said to have “buddies”, Privates Duncan and McIntyre, were alternating between bench wrist curls and neck-strengthening dumbbell lifts. The rhythmic volley of Karim’s rapid punches filled the air. Abdul Karim was, at his most social, on the taciturn side. At 6’-3”, 275 pounds, and less than 2% bodyfat, Karim had a beard and mustache that he kept meticulously groomed at all times. He had the Arab’s big nose, dark skin, and, except for his back and shoulders, a full body armor of tight, black curly hair. His muscular chest was black with fur, with two deep red-brown nipples poking through. His quads were oak trees. His bullish biceps, covered with bright tattoos, were stacked and wired for maximum damage. His fists were huge and calloused. Karim was an extreme fighter of the first order; calm, methodical, practiced, powerful, relentless and merciless. Zaftig had plucked him from the State Penitentiary of Washington about four years earlier. He was in for manslaughter, having beaten to death a suspected serial rapist in Seattle; the trial transcripts stated that he had simply held the dude aloft by his collar and repeatedly punched the guy in the face until he grew bored. Inside, it was said, he had beaten to bloody pulps 5 inmates who had jumped him one night in the shower with sharpened shivs and the intent to kill. How Zaftig got him out was still a mystery to Moster, but, as his CO was bigger and possibly even a hair stronger, Karim silently respected him without grudge or attitude, and there was no real breach of discipline. Still, it was tough to pair him off in extreme fighting matches in the compound, although Corporal Schumacher was a close match. Annoyingly, if understandably, both Chad and LeFevre were careful to keep the beautiful young Private Hension away from Karim. Secretly protective of their young initiate, they didn’t take any chance that the longingly masochistic Hension might approach Karim, and get a lot more than he bargained for. Karim, for his part, wasn’t particularly interested in Hension. For him, a hole was a hole was a hole, and as for getting his cock sucked, he preferred women to do the job, as long as they shut up about it. Oddly, he didn’t seem to mind if effeminate boys took care of his meat, if no pussy was available. A bitch was a bitch was a bitch, though he took care to show basic respect for being serviced (even if, of course, it was his due). He did, however, like piss. Karim liked to be pissed upon, and he liked to piss on others. He marked his territory. He especially liked it when big boy Gunst pissed on him. After all, he respected the man. He didn’t consider it a sexual fantasy. To Karim, piss was just the right expression of muscle and power. Late at night, he sometimes came to the workout room alone and worked on the heavy bag. On those nights, he made sure that the kitchen boy, Pedro, was standing by. A slender 16-year old kid, barely 130 pounds, and a sweet-natured homey if ever there was one, Pedro would wait patiently in a darkened corner until Karim summoned him to approach, get on his knees, and suck his unusually hairy cock while he worked the light bag. The boy loved hair and muscles, and Karim’s big veiny tool got an appreciative coating between his lips. Karim would grunt, shoot, coat the boy’s face with globs of semen, pat him affectionately on the butt, and head off to bed without washing off. The boy scampered into the kitchen to start breakfast for the men, happy to have been of service. Good-natured Privates Bill McIntyre and David Duncan were often buffer zones for the brooding Corporal Karim. Calm and circumspect, like Karim they too were hairy big boys who preferred the ladies, albeit always in groups with the Lebanese. Moster occasionally arranged for private liaisons for the three bodybuilders with three high-priced, Amazonian professional girls flown in from Las Vegas. The men fucked their women vigorously, always with their eyes on one another. After they finished up and the ladies had departed, Karim often polished off the night fucking his buddies’ shapely muscle butts, alternating between them. It took a lot to satisfy Karim, who could fuck all night, and sometimes Moster was hastily summoned to make sure the session ended. He often brought Gunst with him to break up the party, for Karim liked nothing better than to finally cum while Gunst pissed in his face. “Feels good,” he would grunt as Gunst’s firehose cock shot streams of piss on his muscles, while McIntyre and Duncan stood by smiling, gently fingering their reddened, aching buttholes. Karim would work his cock fiercely with his powerful fist, quickly spurting buckets of semen onto his hairy abs, and, as always, trudge off silently to bed without washing or saying good night. Gunst would then get the privilege of sucking Moster’s giant cock while McIntyre and Duncan watched respectfully, stroking their own cocks. Sessions would end with each bodybuilder shooting his cum into Gunst’s mouth. Gunst could swallow volumes of cum. “Makes me bigger,” he’d say. The big boy preferred monster penis, and liked it best with other musclemen standing by watching. So it worked for everyone. Beyond them, Corporals Schumacher, Obatu, and Blankenship were besting each other in sets of deep squat deadlifts. A 42-year old muscle veteran with tattoos, steel-wool skin, acne scars, an explosively powerful physique dense with vascularity, and all honed by nearly 30 years of raw, intense training, Herman Schumacher was the current king of this group, with his wide-oval, pronouncedly roiling, round hamstrings of pure power protruding far behind him. His broad, solid, rounded manbutt rolled above his hams, meeting into a firm, deep butt crack. His calves were split into two deep and distinct diamond-like heads. Schumacher had no-nonsense iron-grey hair and was generally scowling. He knew all who saw him wanted to fuck his mighty butt. Secretly, he was happiest when either fucking – or being fucked. His formidable, muscular, hairy glutes demanded attention. He was loath, however, to acknowledge his fantasy top. Rarely fucked by the other men, and always only after extreme begging and some act of subservience, Herman Schumacher had some private fantasies of his own, involving heavy rope and buttplugs, that one day he hoped he’d have the courage to investigate. For now, the opinions of the other men were still too gravely important to him. He wasn’t ready to betray himself. Not yet. In the mean time, it was generally understood that Schumacher’s powerful tool was always at the ready to plow a tasty ass. Just out of his hearing, the other men all agreed - and even Karim - they craved his particular kind of butt fucking. It seemed he could always find the g-spot, and he quietly provided hours of late night pleasure for those men who had just finished a grueling squat workout, and whose eager buttholes needed relief. Obatu chose to shave his head bald, had shiny black skin, and like Schumacher and Karim, nearly always had a fearsome scowl on his face. His glory were his bull-like traps and his mammoth pecs, which at 66”circumference approached Moster’s own in size, shredded cuts, and separations. His fearsomely large genitalia had a habit of rolling out of his jockstrap during training, and he’d absent-mindedly scoop his balls and cock back into place, often pausing unconsciously for a quick couple of strokes on the extra-long, heavy shaft and a quick flick of his thick thumb on the bell-shaped cockhead. Then he’d lift and adjust the heavy pouch and resume his powerful lifts. On white cap nights, however, he often didn’t bother to repouch. Blankenship, younger than both and only recently having attained the rank of Corporal, didn’t have the ripped density of Schumacher nor the sheer mass of Obatu, boasting instead superb genetics and beautifully honed symmetry. Good-humored and outgoing, the roman-nosed young Blankenship favored classical Greek poses in his routines, and he often showed off his alluring lines with his muscular arms held overhead. He was a statue come to life – and he knew it. Shouting encouragement and taunts at one another, Schumacher completed another grueling set of 25 reps with 400 pounds. On the last rep, he strained to replace the weight on the floor with disciplined quiet, in control of the weight to the very last. Then he blew out a mouthful of spit, shook his head violently so that his sweat flew everywhere, and straightened up. Blankenship planted a solid smack on his naked butt. “Nice!” he yelled. Schumacher smiled wearily and nodded. Then he turned and glanced across the room to see if Private Joe Tiffany had been watching his set. Tiffany was working triceps and delts with Private Robert Lang. Alvarez was at the squat rack, training legs with Private Eli Meyer. The good-looking All-American Jewish Meyer was the shortest man in the squad, standing only 5’- 3”, and sadly, a mute. He was a highly developed, talented gymnast, double-jointed nearly everywhere and was astonishingly supple for a little muscleman. He easily contorted his 210-pound body into positions the other men could only dream of. He favored the relatively simple – for him – pose of planting his rippling arms on the floor and swinging his legs sky-high behind them, tilting his pelvis forward past his elbows and holding steady for long periods of time. The pose was catnip for the squad, who, after hours in the compound rec room, loved to more closely inspect Meyer’s proudly displayed hairless, supple pink butthole, which he playfully puckered in and out for them at will. Meyer would smile hugely and nod encouragement, his eyes sparkling with mischief, as the excited men scrambled to their knees and took turns playfully licking and probing his asshole. Alvarez enjoyed a lick as much as the other men, but he always noted Lang’s slightly hurt gaze and promptly retreat with his buddy for some private posing. For his part, however, Alvarez had no issue when Lang, occasionally overcome himself, dipped his handsome face into Meyer’s butt for a taste of honey. Afterwards, Alvarez noted, he would pose harder than ever. For Tiffany was trouble. Alvarez noted that Tiffany was studiously ignoring Corporal Schumacher’s impressive set of deadlifts. Lang, almost as dim as Hension, hadn’t seemed to notice. But then, Lang hadn’t learned yet that he shouldn’t trust Joe Tiffany. Joe Tiffany was 19. He was gap-toothed, dark-haired, freckled, had slightly big ears, and looked a little goofy. He was bow-legged, weighed 235 pounds, and had almost no bodyfat at all – and what little there was lay sweetly atop what Herman Schumacher imagined was probably the most beautiful butt on the planet. On the day of his arrival into the Project facility just a little less than a year ago, Obatu had nicknamed him ‘Huck Finn’. The name stuck, and over time morphed into ‘Fuck Him.’ No one had, though, as of yet. Not privately, anyway. Tiffany was smart. He looked dumb and played the innocent, but he was canny, shrewd, and manipulative. He also had an unusual talent, which he had privately shared with the curious Sergeant Moster not long after his arrival. It was not unlike perfect pitch: Tiffany could take astonishingly accurate size measurements – orally. Moreover, he had no gag reflex. It appeared that he could take anything. Any cock. To its full length. Even Moster’s. Moster had found out quite by accident – or so he thought. In the showers alone one night, the black muscle giant was lathering up his armpits when he turned and discovered the Private staring at him from the doorway into the locker room. “You’re here late, Private.” “I forgot my jockstrap.” “Better get it and head to bed. Training tomorrow at 0700 hours.” Tiffany held his jock up silently. He waited. Moster stopped lathering and returned his look. “Is there something I can do for you, Private?” he demanded. Tiffany said nothing but gazed straight at Moster’s gargantuan, swaying dick. “Private?” Moster stepped forward. Tiffany didn’t move. “Sir?” He gazed unblinkingly at the cock. Moster glared. “Well?” Tiffany looked up and came to attention. “Sir, I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “But that is the biggest dick I have ever seen in my life, sir.” “It is unlikely you have seen a bigger one.” “I’m guessing no one has, sir.” “No, probably not. Just how big do you think it is?” “Sir, if you will forgive the indulgence, sir, but I believe I could tell you, sir, and quite accurately, too.” Moster had already heard about Tiffany’s after-hours mess hall boasts. Now was the chance to see if the boy had the stuff. “On your knees, then, Private.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany stepped forward in the shower, got to his knees and opened his mouth. He held still. Water poured from the spigot and in an instant, Tiffany’s t-shirt was wringing wet and bulging with his tight teen muscles. He looked up expectantly at Moster. He was calm. “Doesn’t look like anything I can’t handle, sir.” Annoyed at the Tiffany’s arrogance for a flashing moment, Moster slapped his swaying, dripping cock fiercely three or four times. It blew into an engorged 20-inch-plus vein-pulsing snake inside of 5 seconds. Water from the shower splashed onto it and ricocheted off the walls. “All right then. You’ll have to open up much wider than that.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany opened his mouth as wide as he could. Moster strode forward, grabbed the back of the young Private’s head, and forced his face onto his cock. Amazingly, Tiffany’s lips easily enveloped the enormous head, then the shaft, and slid down until Tiffany’s nose was pressed against Moster’s body. Somewhere inside, Moster’s giant shaft had disappeared deeply down Tiffany’s throat and into his upper body. Yet the muscleboy didn’t gag. Instead, he looked up and smiled, his mouth full of black bodybuilder cock. He held still a full minute, as Moster’s cock throbbed inside him. Then he slowly pulled his head back. “18 and 5/8s inches, sir. 8 pounds, three ounces. You weigh 396 pounds tonight, sir, your body temperature is 97 degrees, and your blood pressure is 120/85.” He smiled serenely. Damn, thought Moster. He’s right on target. There was just no telling where P21 protocols could lead, and what talents it might unearth. He nodded, satisfied, and then plunged his cock deeply back in and out of Tiffany’s mouth. In spite of its huge girth, Tiffany bowed and obediently went to work. As Moster pumped his hips rhythmically and Tiffany sucked mammoth cock, the sergeant’s mind drifted towards the men. Hmmmm, he thought. He was deeply in thought, automatically flexing his muscles and yet barely paying any attention to the efficient, powerful, machine-like sucks of Private Tiffany. Finally he began to shoot rivers of cum into the teen’s mouth. After a minute or two of shooting, he withdrew his cock and coated Tiffany’s face evenly with the last blasts of semen. Tiffany licked and took in as much as his tongue could reach, and then he stood, at attention once again. His cute face was covered with clouds of thick cum, which dripped down in thick globs onto his body under the spray of the shower. He saluted again, and wiped his mouth so he could speak clearly. “I hope that was satisfactory, sir?” “It was.” He didn’t appear to be injured in any way, at which Moster privately marveled. He turned away and began soaping the blobs of cum off his cock shaft. “You’re aware that sucking your CO’s cock is a privilege awarded rarely to men of your rank.” “Yes, sir. I know, sir.” “You will report to my private exam room tomorrow about an hour into the evening session. I’ll let you know when.” “Thank you, sir. It was a pleasure, sir.” He started out of the shower room, and turned, adding, “By the way, sir, your cum tastes a little like banana. I love banana.” He saluted again, and was gone. “Fresh punk,” thought Moster, but he was pleased. Starting the next evening, Moster began to require that the priapic dimensions of each muscleman be included in his records, the information to be obtained in privately conducted sessions he personally oversaw with Private Tiffany on hand to take the strictest of measurements. As always, the sergeant immediately designed a standard ritual of procedure. Ordered one by one into the examination room off the gym floor, each bodybuilder entered singly, wearing a tight posing strap, and walked silently into the center of the room. Private Gunst was first. “Stand under the light,” Moster ordered quietly. The bodybuilder stepped onto a posing dais, and poised himself under a single focused spotlight shining from the ceiling. He awaited orders, hands at his sides. He wondered why Tiffany was present. Moster stood in half-light, fully covered in clean white sweats, as always. The silent Dr. Irving sat in a pin light in the distant corner, armed with a video camera and scribbling in a small pad. Tiffany, wearing the white regulation tight t-shirt and khakis, stepped forward from the shadows. “Let’s see what you got, man,” murmured Moster, and Gunst swung into a posing routine. The first pose was a side biceps pose with the muscleman leaving forward and rotating his back towards the sergeant, so that he might better appreciate the three distinct cannonball deltoids, the broad lat sweep, the baseball separations of the biceps head, the powerful shape of his obliques, the shapely, hard glutes, and the roiling hamstrings. It was a landscape of muscle, and the men all knew it was Moster’s preferred pose. Then Gunst straightened, reached toward the single spotlight, and slowly brought his arms down into his most powerful, sustained front double biceps pose. “26 inches, sir!” he shouted. He held it for about 30 seconds. “Looking good,” said Moster, slightly bored. A three-minute posing routine followed. There was no sound in the room apart from the rapid tapping of Dr. Irving’s pen, the hum from the spotlight, and the waves of air being sucked in and out of Gunst’s mouth as he glided smoothly from pose to pose. Front lats, pivot, side left chest, side left triceps, pivot, rear lat spread, rear double biceps, pivot, side right chest, side right triceps, pivot, left quad, shake, slap, flex, right quad, shake, slap, flex, overhead ab crunch, and finally a most muscular, crunching viciously into a vein-exploding crab shot. Then the bodybuilder stood still, waiting. Thick rivulets of sweat poured down his physique. “Okay. Front double biceps again, please.” Gunst flexed his mountainous peaks. “And hold it.” Gunst smiled and strained, eager to please his C.O. “All right, Tiffany,” Moster said quietly, “get to it.” “Yes, sir,” said Tiffany. He strode forward, and as Gunst stood steadily flexing the classic front double biceps, the shorter Tiffany gracefully reached forward, took hold of the elastic side straps of his thin mesh poser, pulled the pouch forward and down, and unveiled the muscleman’s flaccid, long, thick, imperial penis. Moster cracked a quick smile, noting that Gunst first looked startled….then curious…. and then aroused. The giant gazed down as the business-like Tiffany got to his knees, gently fixed his pretty lips on the man’s junk, closed his eyes a moment, plunged deeply, holding the instantaneously stiffening penis deeply in his throat for about 60 seconds. “Wow”….breathed Gunst. He continued to flex his biceps, but tears appeared in his suddenly glistening eyes, and his cheeks flushed deep crimson. Below, Tiffany held firm and steady, his moist lips gently enfolding the thickening penis, widening his jaw to allow the throbbing member to enlarge to its true, pounding, blood-filled girth, standing gradually as the man’s cock began to climb towards the ceiling. He appeared to be making some internal calculations. He allowed 30 seconds more to pass; then he lolled his tongue around the muscleman’s cockshaft, pulled back, dipped again to twice lick the bulbous cockhead, paused again, and then gently parted his lips and pulled back, smacking his lips happily. He wiped his mouth. Gunst stared at him. "Huge cock, man. Nice." Tiffany turned to Moster. That was all it took. Gunst promptly began to spurt ropes of milky cum into the air, which Tiffany deftly dodged. He announced his findings. “12 and three-quarters inches, sir, tip to base,” Tiffany announced with obvious pride. “As you see, he is uncircumcised. Foreskin is clean and about six inches around. Penis weight, five and one half pounds. Shaft circumference, eight inches. Head size, three and three quarters, sir. Two pronounced lateral veins.” Tiffany paused. “He weighs 325 pounds, sir, and at the moment, his blood pressure is 140/80.” He grinned. “It’s quite a penis. You should be proud, sir.” “Yeah, thanks.” Gunst was still shooting. Ropes of cum hit the walls. “Sorry, sir.” “That’s all, Private,” said Moster. “Dismissed.” Gunst, his dick still shooting volleys of cum, stepped off the platform, glanced with confusion at Tiffany, and walked slowly out of the room, his posers barely covering his throbbing cock, leaving a trail of cum as he went. “Tell Corporal Abdul to come in next,” Moster called after him. Gunst turned. “May I watch, sir?” Moster considered. “All right.” At the outset of the tests, Moster was immediately on hand with a tape measure and a blood pressure cuff to verify what he could. After awhile, he didn’t bother. Tiffany was always right. By the next morning, Moster had realized that Tiffany had deftly strategized the whole routine. He’d been punked, and by a newbie. It was as if Tiffany had foreseen Moster’s every move, and now, in record time, every man in Project Herculaneum was aware that Private Tiffany’s blowjobs were a vehicle to provide new particularized personal information being added to their charts. Moster was secretly amused at the teen’s cojones, but knew that he’d have to regain the upper hand again, and soon. Still, it wasn’t for him to break Tiffany personally. That would have made his displeasure too apparent. He began to look for opportunities for the cocky Tiffany to be bested by one of the men. A face punching by Karim would be too brutal. He considered other ways. Maybe in the wrestling ring. Yes. Click Here for "The Twenty" - Chapters 9, 10
  10. Tales of a Lust Mage #3

    TALES OF A LUST MAGE #3 by roboprobo SUB TAGS; Magic, Subtle Growth, Hyper (some), Height, Characters (Bradley, Xaekus, Hunter, Maker, Bahketh), Genies (Efreeti), Demons, Archers The following work of fiction portrays fictional characters in sexual situations. Please do not read if you interested in stories written for erotic purposes, if you are not of legal age, or if it illegal for you to read sexually explicit material in this format/medium. Author Note: I apologize sincerely for the length if it is a bother. I really wanted to set up the universe and then move onto more sexual themes. I still plan to keep expanding, growing, if you know what I mean, but for now I really wanted to get some muscle to grow in the actual text. Part I – Bronc, Imps, and Fire “All right, I officially end your punishment, Xaekus.” Bradley said, tearing a small strip of paper in two. Its arcane symbols seemed to burn the paper into ash. “YES!” Xaekus exclaimed, forming a human guise he accustomed to. He didn’t have enough energy to create a tall guise to match his beautiful master. Right now he couldn’t care less about how annoyed he was at Him, he just wanted to feel His skin’s energy. “No, no stop. Please, you’re going to choke me with your foulness.” Bradley muttered, looking through his files as Xaekus flew up and embraced his master’s arm. “What are you doing, master?” asked Xaekus, floating as his lower body fizzled into smoke. He hadn’t gathered enough energy to maintain full guise. Looking at his master’s full, striated pecs, He decided to size himself down to land right in the cleavage. Bradley looked down at the small, muscular, doll-sized man between his pectorals. He wished he had more than his white tank on. “Do you remember Barry Yates?” Bradley mumbled, walking into a storage room. “Barry Owen Yates?! They call him ‘Bronc’ nowadays! Yes, you helped him get as big as he is now, didn’t you?” Asked Xaekus, excited. He looked over and saw some file cabinets opened and fluffed into a mess. His urge to clean won over. The imp flew off to clean as Bradley responded. “I helped him before. He didn’t want to take steroids because he wanted to stay lean and clean. I can respect that. At the time I had just set up the business. He called me recently, said he’d saved up enough money to get himself massive with my help, to inhuman proportion. I’d told him I could give him a consultation, but no sex. I have to use magic to keep his cock from breaking me in two.” Bradley said. “Oh, I can transform him, sir! And I can do the other part too…” Xaekus trailed off as he finished cleaning the files. “No, I’d rather you didn’t. You still prove unruly and his general libido would easily let you possess him. I’m not stupid,” responded Bradley, finally finding the big bronze chest he’d tied up in blue chains. Xaekus managed to bite, “Sir, you never let me have any fun anymore!” before seeing the chest. He became silent. His glamour faded and turned him into a simple puff of blue smoke. “You don’t mean to use him, do you?” Xaekus muttered. “I do. I can control him easier because he’s been locked away from this world for centuries. I plan on syphoning a pact if the consultation with Bronc leads there. Now let’s see, what artifacts do I have that belong to him?” Xaekus peeked from behind his master and fiddled with his glasses as he tried to make some guise. He was nervous. Bradley unfolded a handkerchief and pulled out a small idol from the brass chest. The crude clay statuette was of a four armed figure with horns. Its red paint had chipped away long ago, leaving only a few marks that Bradley had tried keeping intact. Maybe he’d use a spell or two to fix the thing, but he didn’t want the subject to anchor any more into the normal world. “How old is that thing…?” Xaekus managed to ask before looking over to the beginning of the storage room’s dark side. Xaekus himself was no hero, but he certainly didn’t do the things a lot of the artifacts Bradley had there did. The familiar grumbled and decided maybe he’d go to his bottle or clean the house. Bradley’s left hand drew an arcane symbol that acted as a small flashlight. The darkness seemed to try eating the simple light as Bradley’s eyes examined the ancient idol. “Hmm. How old indeed.” Part II – Four Branches Lit Aflame The winter was terrible, at least by what Papa had said. Pa was a great man. He took me in when my mother had died. He said we were once a great tribe. The war with the Yellow clan had ruined us, even if we had won. Both clans had died out when the winter came after. We’d traveled a long time afterward going South- the lands where people did not move through the land. Fairly close to our territories in the south people had come and built a small village down in the valley. We didn’t travel anymore but chose to live farther up in the mountainous region, away from the village. Papa had taught me to do many things. He taught me how to forage, hunt, and fish. He told me all the great legends of our tribe. The saddest was the last one, that our Great Spirit guardian had sacrificed itself in the war. I asked him if that was why we had become so alone; he never answered. The winters were never cruel to us as they had been in the years before my birth. We hunted a large amount of game and ate as much as needed. Eventually we settled fairly low on the mountain, away from the village. Even both of us could not always eat all the food we caught. I was proud of my Pa. I was now eighteen years of age. I was very worried about my papa. He’s changed so much since that cold night. It was a few nights after I’d just hit my seventeenth year. I was afraid. I was not very good at hunting or fishing. I had become very adept at planting and creating things with wood. The Wise Woman of the village taught me to plant things like squash and carrots, so we started to plant things at our home. Her husband had taught me to build things after we traded many furs with them, so our small house is very sturdy. Papa was not very good at these things because he was stuck in the old ways of our people. That is what the Wise Woman had said. “We’ll follow the tracks in a bit, boy. We should rest up a bit. These muddy trails make it easy to spot them, but aye, my boots look terrible.” Papa laughed, putting his bow down. I saw the prints in the snow leading uphill too. Pa smiled. I was worried because he was ill. His lungs heaved with phlegm as he sneezed. We sat down and began snacking. “Should we really be hunting, still? I think you need rest, Pa.” I told him. “Nonsense. I’m fine. You just keep scouting for me until you can hunt as well as I. Then you can worry about me getting rest, boy.” Pa said, chewing on dry meat. “Yes, sir. I wish you’d let the Wise Woman give you medicine. You’ve been sick since the last frost.” I said, drawing in the mud with a stick. I was going to plant seeds whenever we got home from hunt. The dirt was starting to dry the perfect consistency for new seed. Pa began coughing hard and looked up at me as he spit up foulness. He asked me to look away. People died often because of illness, so I began to worry more. I think he could see it. “Calm down, lad. I will be fine,” He huffed, “And you need to be less like your mother and other father.” I didn’t think about it much, so I asked, “Pa, what were my parents like?” I chewed on some salted meat. We would dry all our meat this way to carry around. It’d make me very thirsty, but the stream was on our trip after this deer hunt. Maybe I could convince Papa to get medicine then. “Your mother was a wonderful, smart woman. She was very pretty and your father went through some trouble before the war to marry her. And your father, well, he was smaller than me, like you are. That’s certain.” He said, poking my arm. I laughed a bit. “He was a much smarter man than I ever was. I really wish he’d been around to see you grow up. He’d do a much better job than me. Both he and your mother.” He added, seeming sad. I didn’t ask these kinds of things much. “He was smart enough to name you for what you’d be really good at. Maker.” He said, packing up his ration of food and preparing to seek the deer. His name was always Papa to me, but in the village they called him simply Hunter. We went up the trail, seeing the prints go off. This was no problem, as the mud of the beginning spring left the prints terribly obvious. We’d never gone into this part of the forest for as long as we’d lived in the area, from what I could scout. The woods were extremely thick and many of the plants had gone green with moss- there seemed to have been a fire in the area. Pa had mentioned that the ‘Hidden Woods’ were cursed but as long as two people went in together and wore amulets, they’d be fine. So we cut through the woods quickly and reached the entrance to the mountain’s side. I’d never seen a cave like this. It looked like the mouth of a beast; jagged stone coming from the ceiling and ground of the cave. Mossy logs and brush lay all over the ground outside, like Pa’s feet moved quietly, pointing into the cave. It’d be too dark to see if we went in too deep, so we had to decide what to do. “Maybe I could go in and scare him out? I doubt there’s a bear in there or anything. If there is, it’ll get the deer before it gets me.” Pa said. “No, I’ll go.” I told him. “I’m not as strong or have great aim, Pa, but I can probably move faster than you.” “Ah, fine. I’ll admit you that.” Pa said, looking for a place to hide from the deer. I looked back and saw his pale skin under his clothes and cap. I’d hurry so we could get to the valley. My feet were very quiet and I tipped through, finding the best footing to sneak. My eyes adjusted to the darkness as I went deeper into the cave. Then I saw it. I wish I hadn’t. An altar sat alone in the spokes of the cave’s cold floor. I didn’t know what it was back then, but now I do. Atop the broken altar sat a small figurine. It was beautiful, looked like a real person, but smaller. I didn’t have time to see everything as the deer stood in front of it. I hadn’t made any great kills before and by instinct I shot the young buck quickly. The arrow pierced the buck’s neck all the way through. I was amazed and set another arrow in case it wasn’t enough. The deer lay its head atop the stone surface. It then fell to the ground. Without much thought I went to the deer and pulled out my knife. I was a fool for being in such a hurry. Maybe the evil one whispered to me without me knowing. I was just trying to get ahold of the buck’s neck to drain it. And that’s what I did. I pulled the buck’s head to the altar’s surface and slit its throat. I was stupid as I whispered out loud how great it was I’d found it. Then I heard the whispers, almost immediately. He whispered behind me as the blood dripped over the altar slowly. It pooled. I quickly turned and held my knife ready to attack whatever was in the cave. Nothing there. My other hand went looking for my amulet, failing to find it. It had fallen off, or maybe I had never put it on. I was doomed from the start. “Light… Fire… The room…” I thought I heard. Although I certainly didn’t want to follow the command, whatever it was saying, but I could definitely see better if I had. I quickly pulled out a small torchlight I carried for these situations (not that they happened often) and struck it against my belt many times. I tried to stay calm, but I shivered in fear of whatever was in the cave with me. “The room… Light… the room…” My small torchlight burst into a flame! I threw it at the altar, no longer worried about the buck. I grabbed the knife with both hands to defend myself and finally saw it. The flame landed right in the altar’s small brazier. The figurine finally showed its detail in full as the fire glowed. “Ah… It’s so good… to be back.” It muttered. His voice was somewhat like a puff of smoke, always blowing up from the flame. I fell backward in cowardice. The flame danced about chaotically at first, somewhat shaping itself. Eventually it did shape itself above the brazier, like a lantern, midair. I held my breath. “What a helpful young… Man. I’ve been gone for so long… What an offering!” the lantern blurted out before laughing hysterically. I clenched my teeth, trying to think of when to run away. “Oh, this is not the proper way for me to look like,” He said, sounding much clearer than before. He flickered around and stopped in different places of the area, observing the objects of the altar. “My, I remember this gift. What an artisan, he was. He was one of my favorites…” He said, covering the figurine in its flame body. The figurine didn’t burn. The flame seemed to disappear into the statuette, making it glow a strong red. “I’m glad someone called me back. I wonder where everyone’s been! I’ve got a bone to pick with them if they come back. They’re probably dead… fools, all of them.” The figurine said. I could feel his sight upon me. It felt burning hot, but inside, skipping my skin. I trembled and closed my eyes, not knowing what to do. I was so afraid of this thing. I didn’t know why. “Do you plan on sitting there or coming to meet your new friend?” He said, cackling a laugh at the end. I opened my eyes and saw the figurine sitting at the southern end of the altar. Pieces of cracked stone had blown off and the buck lay at the edge, its blood smeared. I tried getting up, feeling incredibly sweaty. “Well, aren’t you a handsome lad…” He said, vibrating the figurine. I could see it clearly; a great man like an ox. It had great big arms for its size and horns like the animal. I stood away from the altar for a bit before it boomed, “Come closer, weakling! I only wish to give thanks!” I couldn’t help but inch closer in fear as the brazier blew a bigger flame. “Who are you?” He asked. “I am called Maker. I make things from wood and can make plants grow strong.” I whispered, coughing from the heat my lungs felt. I can’t explain why, but my body felt as if I was soaking in sweat quickly. “What an interesting name. Maker. You’re an interesting boy, too. Heheh… Do you know who I am?” He said, seeming to whisper to me again. “No. Who are you?” “I am Bahketh, Prince of Fire and Strength…” He whispered. I felt his voice in my right ear, as if his mouth was there, whispering to me closely. I was so nervous and sweaty. “O-oh…” I stuttered. “And I would like to thank you for helping me. I will grant you…” He trailed off. As he did, I saw the blood on the altar disappear, leaving the stone clean. “I will grant you one wish.” He said. I stepped back. I looked around to see if my eyes would find him. “What do you mean? Where did you come from? I don’t want anything, you can have the deer, just please leave me alone.” “My dear lad, it’s only fair for me to repay you. Your tongue is too crude, but some have called me a djinn. We’re masters at granting wishes, you know. We’re even better at it when we’re given a gift… All I wanted was the blood. Now take my humble thanks or I will get angry.” He said, fire changing scarlet red. “W-well, I’ve never wanted anything. I don’t need anything. It is the way of my people. We only take what we need.” I stuttered. “Foolish boy, all men have wants. I have many powers… I can grant almost anything… Is there nothing you want? Do you want to be strong? I can make you the strongest man alive…” He said. I could feel my arms tighten as his magic fire filled my chest. “Or is there something else? Do you want the power over fire? I can make you bring down great storms of flame upon your enemies! I can make you wake the salamanders that slumber under the mountains, boy!” He said, his brazier lighting up bright yellow. It released sparkles that shaped into snakes of smoke. “No? Do you… covet someone? I’m especially good at that, boy… Is there a girl you desperately desire? A boy? You can tell me…” He said, making me feel awfully warm all over… “No, I don’t need anything. I have plenty of food, and a good home, and my health,” I said before stopping my breath. “What about my health? Could you do something for that?” “And so much more, my boy. You look awfully healthy to me!” Bahketh laughed. The bastard knew I was a fool. “No, I mean… Could you help the health of my papa?” I asked him. “Oh yes, boy. I can make him very healthy…” __________________________________________________________________________________________ Bahketh taught me to draw his name. I didn’t know how to write, but I certainly knew that words weren’t made that way. Even so, he made me repeat it again and again, in the mud of the cave on the walls. He told me to take a small cup left behind by his ‘stupid caretakers’ from before. It had a small lid and he stuffed it with ashes from his brazier. He told me to light them after my father went to bed. The flame bastard told me that although it’d sound painful to my papa, but it was him burning away the illness. I believed him. I hurried out as I recalled that I’d been in the cave for a while. I carried the buck on my back, feeling stronger than ever. Pa came running out of the bushes as he saw the buck in my arms. “Amazing, boy! I am sorry for not having so much faith in you, bucks are hard enough to catch in the dark on their own. You are definitely a man now!” Pa laughed, examining the buck closely. I felt proud as he patted my back. He coughed and we decided to head down into the Valley after cleaning the deer. Papa refused medicine again and went to sleep early that night. I light the fireplace so the house would be warm. I wasn’t as skilled with stone as much as wood, but the Stone Worker had taken a large fur as payment a while before. Father slept on the upper level of the house. He slept like a corpse. I began drawing Bahketh’s name with some of the coal he’d given me. It was soft and left stain all over the parchment I had at home. My hands trembled as I lit the small container’s ashes with some of the fireplace’s flame. I whispered again and again for Bahketh to come. And he did. Like smoke in the night, his shadow crept through the cracks of our home. The shadow quickly found home in the fireplace. He seemed more shaped this time, almost a man out of fire, flickering out of the shapes the large flame held. The dying winter felt like nothing with his presence around. I didn’t understand the whispers Bahketh made in the shadows of the house. Before I knew it, I found myself covered in sweat again. I saw Papa get up and walk towards the fire. At first I was afraid he didn’t know what was going on, but he seemed asleep. His feet moved clumsily as he reached the fire. Bahketh’s name began to burn into the parchment- red embers popped out in bits as I made a small slit in my finger with a knife. I let the blood drip onto the parchment only a bit to see it wrinkle up in flame. Bahketh laughed and covered my father in a blue fire. My eyes switched around, trying to see everything that was happening as Bahketh ‘cleansed’ my papa. The fire of the hearth blew out and ate at the walls. I tried to scream but found no breath in my lungs, just smoldering ash. I couldn’t breathe and fell to my side. I sought the strength to pull myself up as Papa screamed out words I knew he never learned from our people. I wanted to move, but I was a coward then too. Papa moaned and then began to scream as the flame ate through his sleeping garb. He fell to his knees and twitched as the flame diminished. He seemed to move back and forth, screaming in agony. Bahketh’s tongue was no longer my own. It said a great many words I did not understand. I got up and decided this wasn’t the course of action I wanted to take- Papa was certainly in pain. I ran over to him but only remember Bahketh’s burning arms slam me away. I landed across the house, hitting my head on the door. I blacked out._____________________________________________________________________ That was that. I woke up lying on the ground. I saw nothing out of the ordinary in the house. No fire had taken our home, no parchment or old container. Everything seemed fine. I raised my hand up to see a simple scar on the left arm. I looked burnt there, but it didn’t hurt. I then noticed my arms looked extremely striated, as if I’d not eaten the fats of animals ever. I’d say it looked sickly, but the arms looked fairly healthy and my skin looked fine (aside from the black scar). “Papa? Are you here?” I asked, nervously. From where I was standing, the stairs blocked the view of our home’s second level. I heard a grumble and then some shifting of our beds’ fabric. “What? Oh. Lad, how long have I slept??” asked Papa, from where I could not see. I held my head. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would; I’d felt worse on mornings after drinking with Pa. “I don’t really know, Pa. I fell asleep down here.” I said, sheepishly. I heard his footsteps as he walked down. They sounded different. Finally Pa came down and I saw him, naked. “Pa! Your clothes!” I yelped. “Oh! I’m sorry, boy. I didn’t… I don’t remember taking them off!” He said, embarrassed. I noticed how much better he looked today. His skin wasn’t pale and he looked to have eaten much better. His thick facial hair had grown in quickly in sleep. The shadow it cast on his face had become a tuft of mess. His hands looked thicker and less callused than before as they quickly grabbed things to hide himself with. That’s when I saw Bahketh’s name on his back. Sometimes people scarred themselves with fire. These are tattoos. It seemed to be Bahketh’s name, tattooed on my father’s lower back, above his buttocks. I swallowed my tongue as I saw that it seemed perfected and even more complex than what Bahketh had shown me. In all honesty, it looked beautiful, but I couldn’t help but be afraid once more of Bahketh’s presence in our home. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary though, and things went on much the same. “Well, I will tell you what, I feel amazing! I told you I didn’t need some Wise Woman’s medicine!” Pa said, lifting his arms in a stretch. They looked full of energy- powerful. “Just fine on my own.” We got dressed and did our duties for the day. It turned out little sun was left and we didn’t get much done, but we still had deer to eat for a while anyway. I made broth as Papa finished up around the house. He seemed unable to sit down, even when we’d worked hard all afternoon. “Pa, are you going to eat?” I said, tasting the deer broth. It tasted wonderful. My eyes watched the fire carefully, ready to put it out if necessary. “Aye, but gimme a bit! I’m just trying to,” He huffed, lifting and rearranging things in the house, “move some things around!” I looked over and saw Pa sweating a river. He had moved almost everything in the house so quickly- alone. He looked over and showed me his usual big, funny grin. “Now that you mention it, though, I’m really hungry. And thirsty! I suppose you already caught on though, as you made both food and drink!” He said, running over to the fireplace as I began to make our servings. Pa quickly ate his helping and went for three more. I got two helpings in (what I usually eat, anyway) before we ran out. He laughed and said he could’ve eaten more; I was astounded. Even he could usually only eat about three servings of broth, especially when I stuffed it with things from the forest. He held his distended belly and complimented my cooking. “Maybe we should learn to make bread, it sure fills you up better than broth.” Pa said. I liked the idea, considering I always wanted to learn to make things to eat aside from soups and cooked meats. “Well, if you keep eating like this. I think so, Pa.” I said, smiling back._________________________________________________________________________ Things changed. I didn’t know what to do and even ignored what seemed subtly suspicious. I became afraid. At first, everything seemed great. I never went back into the forest and even told Pa we shouldn’t. He obliged. He told me he had a great idea about how we could train to hunt better, one he’d gotten in a dream. I gave little mind to it and made the tools he asked for. We cut up tree logs in a way that we could hold stumps with our hands easily; handles. They weighed different amounts. I couldn’t lift as much as my Pa, but I still tried to do it with him. Then we began to eat much more. At first we were fine, hunting the usual amount. We seemed to keep up with our need for food by hunting almost twice, if not three times as more food as before. We didn’t need all the furs so we traded for even more tools and different resources. Pa ate a lot more but he pushed me to eat as much as possible. Sometimes he’d even get angry when I didn’t eat ‘enough’. I always wanted to make Pa proud, so I usually ate as much as he made me. My eighteenth year came. He said it was exactly on the full moon. Almost a year had passed by since the incident with Bahketh. I ignored most of the signs that his influence lingered. As long as Pa was healthy, I didn’t really care. One day, however, I asked Pa something he didn’t like at all. “Pa, doesn’t everyone from our clan marry young? I’m eighteen, and you have never told me to seek a woman.” I said. Pa looked over and quickly became serious as he responded flatly, “You don’t need anyone.” I was confused. I looked at him. He’d changed so much in the past year. His arms looked thicker than ever, the rivers of his veins popping out of his skin all over. I’d traded some clothing for Pa to wear but he seemed to only like the fur vests we would mend out of animals in the woods. They always seemed small around his barrel chest. Although he ate well, the only thing I could see on his body was lean. His abdomen seemed pulled in, tight like river stones collected neatly. I looked down at my own body. I’d changed too, but not nearly as much as he. My face scrunched up in confusion as to what Pa said. “Pa, are you sure? There’s no real way to keep our clan alive if I don’t marry, or if you don’t marry. You’re still young, I think you could. I wouldn’t get jealous of siblings, I’m a grown man anyway.” I said, trying to be positive. “You don’t need me, is that it?” Pa asked. “What? That’s now what I’m saying, Pa. Don’t you want to have more children?” I asked him. Pa lifted the handled stumps and huffed. He was drenched in sweat as usual. His hair had gotten very thick this spring, shiny with sweat. Often his skin would look red as he breathed in heavily to lift. “Pa?” I insisted. “What, Maker?! You don’t want me around, right?!” He yelled, throwing the stumps far. “Just do what you want! You’re obviously not my boy, you don’t need me anymore, that’s what you’re saying, yes?!” I was almost afraid. Not because I couldn’t defend myself, but because Pa had never been this angry. His great chest bounced up and down as he huffed. He seemed angry, but not just that. He seemed anguished. “Pa, you know I can’t do anything as good as you. You’re a better hunter. I’ll never find someone I can count on like you.” I said, almost shaking and not thinking about what I was saying. It was true, though. That was how I felt about my Pa. I remembered trying to figure out how old Pa was when the winter took our clan. He’d have been about sixteen when I went under his wing. My father was much older, I’d say. Pa always looked up to my real father- at least by the way he spoke of him. I figured it was an age difference. I tried to understand how lonely Pa must have been. “I’m sorry, Pa.” I said, wondering what he would do. I couldn’t see his face anymore as he’d went to pick up the weights. I almost trembled thinking he would become violent. He came back. I couldn’t see if it was sweat or tears covering his face, especially as he kept his head down. We didn’t talk much that night. Then I started to hear the noises at night. I’d made a few additions to the house now, so Pa and I could have some privacy. I started hearing noises coming from Pa’s room. I couldn’t tell what it was he was doing. I became afraid because I heard grunts and strange moans. Was Pa sick again?Pa started becoming really big. He made sure I ate as well, but his hunger for food was astonishing, if not amazing. He ate and ate until he practically fainted one night. I tried to help him up, but he just held me. There was a sadness in him that I did not know how to help. He also pushed me. I would feel very sore in the mornings after a night of freedom where we could lift for as long as we wanted. Not everything made sense of what he said about ‘lifting’, but he knew so much. Pa and I started a tradition of seeing our progress ‘growing’. I didn’t understand it, but it looked to be enjoyable to Pa. I thought it was fun too especially when I could show off my strength. Pa would show me how big he’d gotten in the week and then I’d do the same for him. We seemed to make great progress. I did something one night. I didn’t understand my body and felt pain in my groin. I thought of asking my Pa what to do even though it was very late in the night. The pain was keeping me awake. I went to his room and found nobody there. Quickly, I dressed myself and grabbed my bow. I’d become very fast since we’d started training ourselves for hunting. Even though I weight quite a bit more, I was sure I could find Pa quickly. I went by the river, close to the mouth. I became worried as the full moon shed its bright light upon the trees and mountain stone. My feet stepped quickly, noticing a smell that I somehow recognized as Pa’s. I’d learned to make soft –but durable- boots from fur and cloth and slipped into a shadow as I heard the rushing waters of the river grow. There Pa was. He kept complaining about the heat. It was now summer but the heat of the night was still nice and calm, so I didn’t understand. Pa splashed himself in the water and drank. He coughed as he drank. He was probably drinking so fast. He washed himself and relaxed, naked on the water’s edge. I’d never tried to pay attention to the body. Pa said it was a private affair for only a wife to see, once. I couldn’t help it as something in my chest pounded. Pa’s body seemed perfect. It seemed sculpted, massive, like stone. It seemed powerful, like the fires Bahketh had fed him. I felt the pain in my groin again. Pa stepped out and looked at small pool of water at the river’s side. I assume he was staring at his reflection. He lifted his arms and forced his muscle to push out, like a large rock pressed to escape his thin skin. He laughed and posed again, showing off his pectorals more than anything else. I guess by instinct I dropped my bow. My hands rubbed my own groin, as if I needed some release from there too. “So big.” Pa said. “I’m so fucking big.” I knew not what that word meant. I’d never heard it myself. Pa posed again and again. I saw something happen to his appendage. The leg appendage you call a phallus. It seemed to swell as he posed. I felt my heart race. “Look at how big you are. No normal man is this strong.” He moaned, rubbing his body. Every movement forced certain muscles awake. I know now what they are called. He grabbed the nubs men can’t use on his chest. I swallowed my breath, feeling aroused. Pa moaned loudly, his phallus bouncing. It looked like a large, red rod. His hands eventually moved around and grabbed onto his phallus. They wrapped around it like a large knife handle. His member was much larger than mine. I pulled mine out. I wanted to feel what Pa was feeling. His hands went up and down. I saw his big balls swinging around. I looked at mine and felt them. They felt tender, swollen. “I want more. I want to grow more!” Pa yelled, groaning as his hands moved up and down his rod. I copied, feeling a sensation I’d never felt before. I would say I had felt it before, but I’d never done such things to myself in those situations. I then could see something strange as my Pa turned sideways. He must’ve wanted to see his side but couldn’t see his wide back. Bahketh’s name shimmered in a way I assume was enough for someone to see from afar, but not without direct line of sight. Pa moaned as my chest’s beat pounded. I couldn’t take it anymore and spurt out seed. Almost right after, Pa moaned and pounded his rod. He exclaimed once more, “I want to be huge!” Pa didn’t take much longer and spurted seed too. He fell backward as his white liquid gushed out like a small torrent. It splattered everywhere. On the ground, his chest, his face even. I looked down and saw a large sum of seed on the ground as well. I didn’t have nearly enough to match Pa, but I thought there was so much, considering it was like a small puddle two feet away from me. I couldn’t stop from moaning as I felt pleasure in my body. My phallus didn’t feel painfully hard anymore and set down to rest. As I did this, Pa grabbed his bow. “Who goes there?” He said. I quickly recovered myself and went on my way. Pa was skilled, but he’d never track me. That night I got to the house and cleaned myself as best as I could. I was too tired to worry if I had done right, watching my own father do such things. Part III: BAHKETH Another year passed and the fall season came. Pa had gotten massive. He couldn’t walk normal as his legs seemed to get in each other’s way. I’d heard someone in the village say he was an ogre. Pa looked very rugged but maintained clean. I obtained a blade to shave with regularly and I did it for both of us. Pa asked me to shave his body too, even though it was very difficult. I followed suit because he once said muscles looked bigger that way. At least this way people wouldn’t say mean things like that. And Pa wouldn’t fight them… I didn’t seek a wife. I met a nice girl in the village once, but Pa quickly scared her away. I wasn’t very interested, but I was determined to keep our clan’s bloodline alive. One night Pa’s bed broke. It was one of the first pieces of furniture I made. He only laughed and said we should just share a bed. I disagreed as we both were far too big for a single bed. If one of us didn’t fall off, it’d surely meet the same doom his bed had met. I’d gotten very skilled using tools and made a better bed for Pa. I found mine broken (with obvious assumption as to how when Pa told me he might have taken a nap on it) but made no argument. It was just proof that I was a skilled craftsman if the bed didn’t break, right? I didn’t get much bigger since the year before, but Pa said I did great. I smiled often when he measured my growth. I was starting to wish to be as big as him. He would sometimes show off in the village. He picked up men in each arm and would curl them like he did our weights (Which, by the way, I had to replace with bigger ones…) and would pull great animal-sized carts with ease. Things took a turn for the worst at night. I started planting more things and did very well. I grew lots of cucumbers and started harvesting. I found one missing and eventually learned what Pa had done with it. On his usual ‘cooling’ nights when he’d get his terrible fevers, he played with the cucumber. He would push it inside of himself, moaning and making many noises that bothered me. I found myself spilling my seed as my needs asked for something I shouldn’t have wanted. I started wondering if that was what Pa wanted, and started experimenting myself. I went down to the village one day and made friends. They seemed to make fun of me for not understanding sex as well as them, but I think they feared me. I was very strong and known as Hunter Son. Maker Hunterson. They didn’t laugh at me in front of me. One of them brought a harlot along and had her spend time with me. I learned that I didn’t like what she had to offer. Pa became more verbal that fall. “Do you like my size, boy?” He said, very seriously once. “Yes, Pa. You know I do.” I said, laughing. We sat on the ground, cleaning beans. “I don’t think I can get any bigger. I want to be bigger. I want to always take care of you, lad.” He said, tossing my hair in his hand, as if I was a boy still. I felt like a boy, always smaller than him. “I doubt I will, though. I can only get older from here on.” I pondered a while on what he said. I found myself later walking through the cursed woods, holding my bow ready. I was stronger now, and I knew I didn’t have to be afraid. The Wise Woman taught me how to make holy items. I wasn’t good at it, unusually, but she said that the items would drive away evil spirits no matter what. I never told her what I was doing anything for, but I’m sure she knew something was going on long before I had. I stepped through the thick brush- thicker than I remembered. Pa would go hunting by himself. Said he wanted to find himself a bear. I felt sorry for the bear. I pushed back the thick green and saw the cave again. It’d been two years, maybe more. I stood in front of the cave. It had changed since I was there last. It looked cleaner, as if it were more of a temple. I slowly walked in and looked around. There was much lighter than before. The heat was heavier too, I could feel my chest breathe in humid air. The altar was much more well-kept now than ever in my memory. The statuette sat there, waiting for me. “Well, well, well…” huffed the spirit. “Hello, Bahketh. I greet you with respect.” I said. I wasn’t nervous. “I hope you do, but I really hope you greet me with more…” He whispered, rubbing my body with his unseen warmth. “I seek nothing, Bahketh. At least nothing for myself.” I said, pulling out a small bag. “What is that, young man? My, you’ve gotten so much bigger on your own, without my help. Well, direct help. Do you like that power?” He fizzled. I opened the bag and let out the contents. I had obtained a box of incense. It was very rare, I’d received it as a gift for helping the counsel of the village stop a pack of bandits with my father, from a prominent family’s daughter. Jewels dropped out, all from different mountains from afar. “There is something I want,” I managed to say before Bahketh interrupted. “I know what you want. Your father is a very strong man. But he wants more, yes?” Bahketh asked. “Yes, oh great one.” “Maker? Boy?” I heard from outside the cave. I turned around. Pa was there. He looked over at the altar and back at me. “What’s going on here?” He asked. “Where are we? I followed you because I was worried. Should I be worried?” “Pa! How did you follow me?” I asked, nervously. “I followed your smell –I mean- tracks.” He said. “Come, my acolyte.” Bahketh whispered. Pa walked slowly, without hesitation. “Your boy wants to make you bigger. Stronger. You want that, yes?” Bahketh asked. Pa stared at the statue before processing all the information. “Yes! That’s what I want! Wait- is this- is this how I’ve gotten so strong?! I’ve never felt this way in my entire life! It’s amazing! I feel so powerful!” Pa said. Bahketh laughed. “Your boy is no normal man. He is a Maker, just as his name states. He has the power to focus magic. You should thank him as much as you should thank me.” Pa looked over at me. I noticed the erection he was growing. He was practically glowing. “Your boy and I are also alike in other forms. He is benevolent, like me. He wants to make you even stronger.” Bahketh whispered. “Is that true, son? You can make me stronger? I want to be stronger, boy! I want to be the strongest!” Pa said, grabbing my arm. He then pulled me in and embraced me. I’d never felt the way he made me feel when he embraced me. “Well- Bahketh granted the wish. What do you want, oh Great Spirit?” I said, nervously. “I want your Pa to give me his name. But he can’t do it by himself, you need to give it to me.” Bahketh said. “I don’t understand.” I said. “Why don’t you ask your father?” Bahketh said with a grimace. I could see his smile in the fire of the altar. Pa looked nervous. I looked over to him and asked, “What does he mean?” It took him some time before responding. He seemed to think about it a bit before Bahketh complained loudly. He made the room burning hot. Pa finally answered. “Our clan gives up our names to the person we love the most. It’s a tradition we hold in the spring. I did it a few years ago for you. It’s usually something for marriage… But I have nobody, lad. I always have only had you.” He said. “And that means that he doesn’t own his own name. You do. The binds of your clan’s tradition make it so he can’t do anything. I will grant you this wish, if you want me to, but you have to give me his name.” “I-I don’t think I should be doing that!” I yelled. I still understood very little. I looked back and forth at both of them, skin red hot with embarrassment. “Boy, please! I want to be the strongest!” Pa said. He held me close, almost crushing me. He posed his arms and smiled before embracing me again. I desperately remember his embrace. “But Pa, I don’t want to make this decision for you! Why don’t you just take back your name?” I said, trying to pull out of his grasp. I didn’t want to, really. “I can’t do that, boy…” Pa said. He looked sad at me. I knew what he meant. He didn’t have to say it. “And that’s all, right? You’ll make him the strongest as long as you have his name?” I asked the flame spirit. “He’ll be as big and strong as he wants. All I need is his name.” Bahketh said. “Just say ‘I give thy true name away, Hunter, to the great spirit BAHKETH.” I breathed in heavily and held it in. “I give thy true name away, Hunter, to the great spirit BAHKETH.” I smiled at Pa and held his hand. I’d never held his hand, at least not to my memory as boy or man. I laid mine inside his one last time. Pa smiled back at me, with his big smile. “YES! FINALLY!” Bahketh screamed. The statuette fell to the side and cracked. Out came the flame and grabbed onto my papa’s face. A shockwave sent me flying. Bahketh’s cackle filled echoed on and on. The flamed disappeared as it went into my pa’s mouth. “Pa?” I grumbled, rubbing my neck. “I don’t feel much different,” Pa said, looking back at me. He then screamed and held his stomach. “Oh… Oh! It burns! Gah! It burns!” Pa screamed. He trembled as his skin went red hot. He fell to his knees as he screamed again. His hands grabbed his head as he howled. Pa’s forehead quickly pushed out two small horns, little points that poked under his long hair. The mark on his back began to spread its ink, like a black flower. It covered his chest and upper legs, like vines around to his neck. Pa then began to moan. He seemed to stay alive and well even if the flames came alive on him. At first I saw his arms shake. His shoulders widened and found more space close to Pa’s neck. He growled as his arms weighed heavy with swelling muscle- it looked like a pumpkin was stuffed under his skin on both sides. His hands, however big they were, seemed very small as his arms trembled. I tried to come closer and even shot an arrow at the altar in hopes of distracting (and maybe stopping) Bahketh. The arrow evaporated in flame quickly before reaching the altar and I felt the singe of the fires myself a few steps in. I could not get close as my pa’s arms moved up from the pushing of his enlarging back. He looked like an hourglass as the sides of his midsection popped out like small wings. “Bigger! I want to be bigger! It feels so good!” I pulled out my crude amulets in hopes to use them against the foul spirit. Bahketh cackled the moment I pulled them out. They crumbled in my hands. My eyes let out tears as I saw father’s stance widen. His legs had become thicker than many young trees of the forest. They looked denser too. His abdomen cracked as the bricks on his abdomen pushed outward. I started feeling the warmth in my groin again, in shame. Pa’s close tore as his chest exploded outward along with his legs. “So good! So fucking strong!” Pa said, flexing his body as he grew. His rod pushed out from the burning clothes, swelling up in a size I could never imagine fitting a normal human. It looked thicker than my forearm. Somehow it lifted upward even with the massive weights that were under it, both sized like many fruits from the garden. It simply bobbed up and down and trickled seed onto the ground. Pa thoroughly enjoyed what was happening, even though his head seemed to be being swallowed by his massive body. Bahketh laughed and let the fires die down as my father started fondling himself. Pa’s chest had stretched out his nipples like coins, yet grown them outward to large nubs that he moaned when played with. I breathed heavily as I tried to remain capable of clear thought. Bahketh whispered terrible things in my ears, caressing my body in a softer heat. He tempted me. Pa stroked himself as his height increased to accommodate his growth. I’d say he was about eight feet tall at the end of the ordeal, but I couldn’t keep track of such things. He moaned and yelled out in a thick, deep voice. It was deeper than before, like the growl of a beast in the woods. My pa could no longer contain himself and spewed outward, shooting far into the air and away from where he stood. It came like a river of white, splashing and somehow not evaporating from the embers that had dwindled with the ending growth. I felt myself wet inside my gear, but not from fear and piss, but longing. I longed for my pa’s massive body to touch me. “Foolish boy! Do you know who I am?!” Bahketh finally exclaimed. His voice seemed to cover my pa’s. Pa’s eyes themselves had gone white. “I am BAHKETH! Efreeti of Lust, Fire, and Strength! Genie of Smolder and Ecstasy! The pinnacle of all flames! None are stronger than I! I fell from grace, but now I will return to the material world I was once barred from, so full of delicious pleasures! All thanks to you, my boy! Or should I say, my son?” I felt my heart sink deeper than I will ever remember. I understood what Bahketh had done. The statuette lifted into the air and cracked, letting out a small tear in time-and-space open. Now I know what had happened. I saw Bahketh’s truest form. It barely peered into our world as he commanded Pa to walk over to me. I stood there, afraid and aroused. Pa walked up to me. He was not Pa anymore, but not Bahketh. He grabbed me and squeezed me in his palms. I thought he would kill me but he simply tore off my clothes. The possessed man pushed me onto his skin, letting me feel the mass. I felt Pa’s massive chest, rock solid and burning hot. He forced my mouth open to taste Pa’s stone-like abdomen. I felt a shameful delight as my phallus hardened in its own rock-like density. The possessed Pa licked my own body, tasting different parts and biting where he saw fit. My neck, my buttocks, my sides. He bit hard enough to hurt, but not enough to pierce through. I closed my eyes in hopes of living, in hopes of forgiveness should my pa come to his senses. “Tell me you like my mass, boy.” Pa said, deep and slow. “N-no, Pa… Please… Stop this… We can get away…” “Feel these arms. Feel how strong and powerful they are.” I couldn’t hold on and finally whispered, “…It’s amazing, Pa.” "Do you want to be crushed between these great legs?" He said, forcing my hands onto them. I felt their density on my fingers. My chest couldn't contain the energy I received from the arousal. "You're gigantic, Pa..." I said, moving my hands around on the striations. Pa’s mouth landed on mine. I couldn’t stop myself and tasted the inside. It was somehow sweet, like fresh fruit cooked in a warm fire, yet different. His tongue played around with mine, long enough to touch the insides of my throat. I thought I’d choke but I only moaned. Pa held me in the air with ease as he did this, finally letting me feel his massive rod touch me. His tongue licked mine. I whimpered at the amazing sensation. He fit mine in his mouth and suckled as he lifted my legs over his shoulders. I moaned and felt the ecstasy wisp me away. Pa pulled me out of his mouth and then licked elsewhere. I feel great shame for he licked me in an awful place. It felt so pleasurable, it bothers me today. His tongue pierced through and played around inside me. I finally understood why Pa liked to do this to himself. Pa finally pulled me down to his own throbbing member and pushed my mouth on it. It was literally too big to fit inside, but he was gentle. He simply growled, “Lick it, boy. Satisfy your papa.” And I followed suit. He moaned quickly and played with my body as well as his own. He pushed his hands over mine so I could feel his massive legs while I licked. I was lost. I had no congruent thought. “I curse you, Maker Hunterson. I curse you to lust as badly as your father did, every night thinking of giving your own name to me…” Bahketh whispered under my pa’s voice. I looked up and saw the black tear that dripped from Pa’s eye. He smiled still as the tear dripped away and evaporated on the burning ground. Pa came again. He drenched me in seed, cooked like milk in the winter morning. I opened my mouth and swallowed what I could. It tasted like honey. I moaned and came as well, whimpering as the sensation squeezed my groin tighter than ever. It hurt as it tightened out every last drop inside me. I heard the voice in the window cackle. A colossal arm -both muscular and bigger than even Pa’s- smashed through. The voice growled loudly in its own beastly form as another arm stretched the doorway out. I could see Bahketh’s smoldering orange eyes. His name burned on my arm, unfinished but obviously his. I screamed in pain as it burned to the bone. Bahketh laughed and petted my papa. “My acolyte. You shall walk the earth, spreading my name in the shadows. When the time has come I shall become a glorious god as I so deserve.” Bahketh said, voice booming. It was certainly not a whisper anymore. Pa turned as the seed forced me to change slowly. I fell to the ground as my body became led. Pa walked towards the door and bowed. “Yes, master.” He said. “But now, you shall enjoy true paradise. Come to me, my acolyte. Enter the plane of Lust, where my flaming abode hides. Our enemies have been winning for so long, and we must plan… We must rejoice your coming home. I shall soon take even the planes of the Abyss and Heaven as my own.” The portal stretched even more so. Bahketh’s face smiled with teeth like a monster’s. His red skin burned with embers and eldritch-orange symbols. He caressed my pa as he walked into the burning doorway. I could only whisper my Pa’s name before I began sensing the loss of it in my existence. I felt my bones push and break as my body grew when Pa looked back at me once more. I still think the pain was worse in my heart than it was in my body. I would have screamed as the door closed, leaving the cave steaming and alone. I lay, growing slowly and painfully. I could feel everything; the bones cracking, the muscle tearing. All of it, before the growth rebuilt me. It felt pleasurable underneath the pain. To this day I want more, in secret shame. I felt my arms swell and my neck become thick. My legs felt like pillars in a temple, heavy as well. My eyes opened as I saw the thunder rolled in the night sky. I got up very slowly, trying to move with the new size. I looked at my body, remembering what my Pa’s looked like. I would certainly be a weaker scout now, but that was fine. I needed to become a warrior. I needed to find a way to defeat the foul genie, Bahketh. I stumbled around, learning how to use the self-obtrusive legs I had just obtained. My groin felt heavy already with seed as I looked down at a massive member that swung from side to side. I didn’t get far before having to release. I met the Wise Woman in the dark. She said my voice had become even deeper. The rain helped conceal me. I begged her for advice. The Wise Woman told me this was certainly beyond her power. I cried in agony. She gave me a pendant that had been passed down to her. It carried the symbol of an ancient people. She said that the mountains hid a strange prison whose lock was now broken beyond repair. I asked for her forgiveness. The Wise Woman said nothing. I learned later I had been fated to release the burning djinn long before. Her people had dwindled (ironically like mine) and hid amongst the village. They were prepared to end their bloodline. I prepared to end mine. The pendant was to help me find someone who could battle the bastard, but that was the only help the Wise Woman gave me. I returned to the house and packed what I could. I packed extra to head to the village and trade. Nobody recognized me in the darkness of the rain and night. I quickly obtained a sword and things a traveler could use. I gave up my tools. I was no longer a maker. I was no longer anyone. I write in this journal, hoping that if I should fail, someone finds it. I can feel Bahketh’s whispers at night. I can feel his hands toying with me. I know the knowledge to give him my being is hidden in the dark depths of my mind. Every day is a struggle. I want that power and strength. I beg the spirits of the land –the only few benevolent left- that they guide me to death before my mind finds destruction. But who knows, deep down, I want Bahketh to grow me as much as he can. End? Author End Note: I thank you very much for reading my work. Please suggest themes that you think would be interesting, or tell me what you thought could use work through a comment! I sincerely hope you liked it.

    NB- I've put a "weird" tag. on this and I should warn in advance there's a few very unique but overall very unusual feature of this series that I've written- it involves bodybuilders being able to impregnate each other with clones. It really gets me off, but if the idea grosses you out, you've been warned! There's one or two violent sex scenes in this chapter too. _________ David Wyman, the larger of the two American competitors was visibly relieved to hear this and grabbed his huge balls prior to removing his speedo. His balls then hung almost his knees, and his gigantic cock two or three inches past as he waited for his fellow competitors to do the same. Chen Xiao's speedo was simply torn off by his rapidly expanding cock, whereas Martin, still flaccid, had to tweak his nipples for a moment in order to cause the groundbreaking boner that caused his trunks to fly into the audience in three pieces. I too was naked at this point, having soiled my trunks with semen, gradually the whole auditorium removed all of its clothes, creating an incredible smell that made the air feel heavy and wet. The eight men stood now fully naked, before a room of naked bodybuilders, eagerly waiting the orgy that was coming up next, the Domination Round. This round, in contrast to the previous one that awarded aesthetics, instead awards strength and brute power. Each competitor faces their opponents in a series of head to head wrestling matches. Pinning your opponent to the ground is awarded with 2 points, penetrating him anally with 5 points and reaching full climax whilst still in control 10 extra points. What made this round so bizarre but also amazingly erotic was that due to the genetic enhancements that these men received, they were capable of producing all the necessary hormones to deposit a fertilized egg, and whenever the loser of one of these bouts was fucked up the ass, they would become impregnated with a pygmy muscleman, who would grow to adulthood in their ball sack over around an hour and be born at full sexual maturity in a monstrous pool of ejaculate on stage. In the audience around me I saw five or six of what I assumed to be Wyman's muscle progeny- identical to him in every way except their size and the fact that they had no speech capabilities or free will, they were giant muscle robots in effect, who would continue growing indefinitely, unlike their father. Wyman, the American I mentioned earlier, had won this round the previous year with 109 points and his cock and arrogant smirk buzzed full of excitement for this round. His first bout saw him face Jean Marie de Villiers, who at 710 pounds was much smaller than Wyman, and his fear showed. They stood on two 'x's six feet way from one another- the distance was just enough that when Wyman stretched out his massive arm, the Frenchman was just out of reach. Wyman was the biggest man in the contest (although Mustafa al-Asghari, his fellow American was roughly the same weight but one or two inches shorter) at 970 pounds and 8'7, but whilst this section of the competition was a sure win for him the earlier posing rounds did not always score him highly as during the run up to competition he would sacrifice form and muscle definition for gaining extreme size with massive rations of food and of course, his growth hormone that was obtained by a special pharmacological unit from bull elephant seals. As I watched him standing on the spot, ready to jump the Frenchman, I could certainly see elements of the bull seal in him, he panted and drooled from his gigantic chiseled jaw all the way down his rock hard sculpted body as his entire being shook maniacally waiting for the whistle to sound . And the whistle sounded. Wyman leapt towards Jean Marie, who jumped several meters in the air, sending the American tumbling over the stage. As the Frenchman landed he seemed pleased with himself; however this greatly angered Wyman, who picked himself up off the ground and stormed over to Jean Marie, making the whole auditorium shake as his size 32 feet pounded the ground. He stopped just short of the Frenchman and roared intimidatingly down at him, the two feet that separated their eyelines seeming like the gap between a giant and an infant. "YOU DON'T MAKE ME LOOK LIKE A FOOL YOU LITTLE FRENCH CUNT! I'M GONNA RAPE YOU GOOD BOY! YOU'LL SEE, AND WHEN MY LITTLE BOY COMES CRAWLING OUT OF YOUR NADS, I'M GONNA TEACH HIM HOW TO FUCK A LITTLE RUNT LIKE YOU TOO!" The poor Frenchman had no recourse, he stood glued to the spot waiting for the onslaught. Wyman bent down and grabbed his huge balls in his even bigger hand and lifted him above the ground before slamming him down viciously. "Two points!" Yelled the tanoy He then put one arm round each side and flipped him over, then used his two index fingers to spread apart his buttocks, spitting into the tight hole, and then onto his monstrous cock before thrusting the giant pole inside the black void. "Five points!" "You know what I'm gonna do boy?" Wyman whispered into Jean Marie's ear whilst fucking him, "I'm gonna squeeze out my biggest, strongest spunk to make sure that you end up carrying my biggest, fiercest muscle baby ever. He'll rip your little cock apart when he comes out, I swear, YOU'LL. REGRET. HUMILIATING.ME!" As he sad those last four words he stopped fucking so regularly, and delivered four final gigantic pummeling thrusts, as his giant balls pumped cum into the Frenchman’s exhausted ass he cried tears of pain and fear, and when Wyman pulled his cock out, the Frenchman simply collapsed and had to be removed from the stage, litres of thick smelly semen leaking from his devastated hole. "Wyman with the full seventeen points!" I was fascinated now to watch the Frenchman from this point, as I had never witnessed a "birth" yet. He was taken over to an area with hammocks in place of chairs (there was no way he would be able to sit down for quite a few days after the pounding he received from Wyman. He lay down starting to recover from the pain of the fucking, but mentally preparing himself for the pain of a small bodybuilder erupting from his cock in the coming hour. His ballsack had expanded, and in between his drooping testicles a third round lump had formed, about two feet in diameter and it was bulging and stretching aggressively. Wyman had promised that this would be one of his most impressive muscle offspring, and I was on the edge of my seat waiting to see what it was like. In order to make sure that the loser of the bouts in the domination round did not suffer serious injury in the competition, it was winner stays on, and Wyman was looking forward to taking on the remaining six. Chen Xiao was next, seventeen points to Wyman, followed by Mustafa, who in spite of being similar in stature was no match in strength, seventeen. Then came Martin van Santen, my gorgeous little man, and I felt for the first time fear and concern over the wellbeing of a competitor. I didn't want to see him impaled on a monster dick, howling in pain whilst the giant American degraded him. Sadly though within moments he had obtained the first two points for pinning Martin to the ground. Whilst on the ground though, Martin surprised the entire audience and delivered a powerful kick with both gigantic legs into Wyman's chest, throwing him 80 feet across the stage, to land on his back. Nothing like this had ever been seen before. "Now, two points to van Santen!" Turned on and motivated once more by the sheer power his legs had demonstrated, van Santen leapt up to his feet and stormed over to Wyman who was lying in pain, having landed on a pile of chairs that broke his fall but left his stomach and back badly bruised. He stamped on the American giant's stomach, causing him to cough up a small amount of blood onto the stage, and then with the same foot he rolled over Wyman’s body so that he was facing the floor, and then grabbed the hair on the back of his head, lifted him slightly off the ground (which was a challenge for the smaller, shorter Argentinian) and jammed his cock into the waiting ass. He made sure to finish quickly as he did not want the American to regain his strength and turn on him. With a resounding howl, he ejaculated and let Wyman fall to the ground, to be taken, unconscious, over to the hammocks. It was the first time that Wyman's ass had ever been penetrated. The contest stopped then for a break, as it had been around an hour since the domination round began and Jean Marie, Chen Xiao and Mustafa were expected within moments to be birthing Wyman's gargantuan kids. Whilst Chen Xiao and Mustafa were carrying a three foot wide spherical pouch in their ballsacks, poor Jean Marie looked like he was about to give birth to a full grown man, the lump had grown and was now six feet long and standing upright. Even through the scrotum you could see the embryonic bodybuilder flexing his giant, ripped muscles. In order to end the torment of having this giant growth in his system, Jean Marie began pumping his massive cock shaft with great gusto. Some assistants brought over buckets of lube to help the situation as well as to stimulate the huge balls and Wyman's muscle child. Gradually the large, elongated lump in the ballsack began to ascend, and Jean Marie screamed in pain and pleasure as his dick widened enormously to squeeze out the giant, and with one more tremendous push he ejaculated spectacularly all over the stage and well into the front rows of the audience. No less than two hundred litres of semen flooded the stage and as it began to become less and less, his dick hole expanded to several feet wide to squeeze out a full grown muscle beast that emerged covered in sticky fluid, strutting around the stage, consuming the semen from all over his massive body and picking up gloopy handfuls from the floor and ingesting it. The semen he ate ravenously made him increasingly aggressive, it compounded the high level of bull hormones in his already testosterone pumped up blood. He roared and bellowed louder than any human ever had before, and he flexed his gigantic muscles in a virile display of aggression. Whilst his father and the their competitors were shaved and tanned for competition, this muscle "baby" was not prepared in such a way, his entire body was covered in thick, black glossy hair, unsurprising for someone with such high levels of male hormones guaranteed by his parentage. He marched across the stage, growing almost an inch in height with each footstep (Wyman watched in awe, impressed by the potency of his own man juice) and when he reached the wall he punched a hole in the concrete and began fucking is hole in order to satisfy his carnal urges. Each thrust was accompanied by deep roars as well as rapid growth spurts, until he finally reached climax and screamed, pulling his cock out of the wall, he turned to the audience with his hands held either side of his head and spewed gallons of warm cum onto the stage. The entire room was left speechless by this monster, who now stood two whole feet taller than his father. Wyman however had nothing to fear- the muscle babies always deferred to their fathers, and the American wandered onto the cum-covered stage, still sore from his fucking from Martin and caressed his giant child. "Hey there big fella, I'm your daddy!" He said affectionately, rubbing the giant’s big hairy chest and making his six inch nipples stand erect to attention. He wiped some semen off his newborn son's chest and used it as lube to start massaging his own cock as the muscle baby watched. His was now the second biggest cock in the room, now standing erect two or three inches away from his eyes. He pumped the six foot long shaft repeatedly until he reached the point of climax and erupted a third batch of cum onto the stage. His humongous balls shuddered as they pumped four hundred litres of spunk out in a steady thick stream that hit the roof of the auditorium and splashed in every corner, followed by the birth of Martin's considerably smaller muscle baby that Wyman caught in his arms and placed on the ground. Three feet tall and two feet wide, covered from head to toe in thick rippling muscle that spasmed uncontrollably as he flexed and wandered around, gathering his bearings. He grew at a similar rate to the muscle baby that came before, although he was much less hairy and his growth slowed down after he surpassed about six feet. In the next five minutes both Mustafa and Chen Xiao expelled Wyman's two remaining muscle babies, who were equally hairy but thankfully for their hosts smaller and less painful than the beast that Jean Marie had popped out. The domination round recommenced, this time on a stage that was no less than two feet deep in huge bodybuilder cum. One hour later another break was taken to expel the new round of muscle babies. Several hours later, the domination round had come to an end and the ritual of bringing out the muscle babies began.
  12. My girl

    I've always been a big guy. In my childhood, I always took pride that I was the biggest. Even before puberty. I was always the tallest kid in my grade. Whenever my fellow 8 year old kids would gather round and compare bicep sizes, I always won. I mean, I was humbled a bit by middle school, when some of the girls got taller than me before I hit puberty. It depressed me a bit, to be honest. So when I hit my massive growth spurt, my height surpassing them, and everyone else (including adults) by 8th grade, I loved it. In high school, my ego reached critical mass, as a freshman, I was taller than all but 2 seniors. I loved it when 4 months into high school, I surpassed them. Now, getting that tall, that fast, I did look kinda scrawny. But my muscles started building up quickly. I wasn't even doing any extra working out at first. Just playing football or basketball with my friends. It wasn't until I joined the football team in 10th grade that I started lifting. And my body loved it. My muscles were growing so big, so fast, I was getting stretching marks on my arms, back, and thighs. My senior year, when I was 18, I had become famous in my small suburban town. While girls adored me, most of them were too inexperienced to be able to handle the size of my penis (which also had stretch marks from rapid growth). So when I went away to college, I met a 25 year old grad student. Her name was Sarah. Now, I loved my size. I loved ducking through doors. I loved how my shoulders were too broad for some doors. I loved how no matter what I wore, you could easily see the outline of my giant genitals. When I hit my head on things, I'd smirk while in pain, thinking how I was too big for this society. But Sarah...was obsessed. I was still growing, but slowly. She was insatiable, and the only girl who could handle my size. She was a big woman, too. Not chubby or anything. No, but tall, curvy, she liked to workout too. She studied all sorts of biology and holistic herbs and stuff like that. She was on a journey to get as big as possible, and she swore she made her breasts and butt bigger using exercise, herbs, and meditative techniques. I was skeptical, but also, didn't really care. She was hot and able to handle me. We both had endless sexual energy. When we first started dating, we had sex for 3 days straight, getting food delivered, and calling off work. We tried to see if we even had a limit, but we could only avoid real life for so long. But when she offered to help me get even bigger...I still remained skeptical. Herbs? Meditation? Some other hippy bullshit? Come on, now. I wanted to stay natural. But sometimes, I would see before and after pictures of men who used steroids. I was still bigger than them! Imagine, if I took them...I'd become... She slapped me when I brought this up to her. My health wasn't worth the risk. She insisted, as always, when we returned to everything after we die, we can live out all our dreams, but it was our responsibility to take care of our health in this state we exist in. There was some other hippy shit she said, too, but whatever. She suggested we try her techniques first, and if I wasn't satisfied, we explore other options. To my surprise, her combination of pills, food, yoga, weightlifting, meditation, and hypnosis had speed up my growth. My muscles didn't seem to be growing as fast as they would be if I used steroids, but I was getting taller faster. And even my dick and balls were growing...something that hasn't happened over the past 2-3 years. Then, she started exercising my dick. She'd stretch it. She'd jelq it. She'd work it out for me. And it would get sore. And it grew. and grew. and grew. Jesus Christ, did it grow. I'll give you the exact details of my favorite session. Stay tuned for the next, and final part.
  13. The Bug: Mehmet

    Part 3 of this story. Arpeejay commented on the last installment that the viewpoint of the narrator can be a bit confusing at times. My apologies for that - I like to mess around with perspective but hopefully all the clues one needs as to who's talking are in there somewhere. Let me know if that's not the case and as always please let me know what you think. -------------------- The following work of fiction portrays men in sexual situations. Please do not read if you are not interested in stories written for erotic purposes, if you are not of legal age, or if it is illegal for you to read sexually explicit material in this format or through this medium. All characters in this work are fictional. As such, they are immune to any and all types of infectious diseases, including the AIDS virus. You are not fictional and therefore you are not immune. Follow safer sex guidelines or risk having some brainless disease write the ending of your life story for you. Copyright 2014 by [email protected] Part 1 - The Bug: Rory Part 2 - The Bug: Lenny Part 3 The Bug: Mehmet I could think again. The overpowering rush of desire and lust was over, though it had taken a good four hours to work through it. This was only the third time it had happened but like the others while I was in it I became a prisoner of this big new body I’d be given. A willing prisoner perhaps, since I’d totally enjoyed it, but there was still a part of me, a small part, that resented being bossed around by my dick. In Mehmet’s bathroom mirror I could see my face, strikingly handsome even now with sweaty hair framing it. I’d never had a problem picking up guys before, not since I carved out my niche here in the city, but I was in a different league these days. I was a very big, very badass motherfucker who could get any guy I wanted. I’d been this way for about two months though I’d only fucked around three times in that period. I washed my face and then gargled some mouthwash, cherry flavor. Who the hell buys cherry flavored mouthwash? Must be a Turkish thing. Turning sideways I slid out of the bathroom, through his small dressing room and back into the bedroom. Mehmet was sitting naked in the bed watching me with big eyes. “What did you mean by that, Lenny?” he asked in a too quiet voice. “Huh?” I sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed my shorts, bunching up one leg to start the laborious process of getting them up over my thighs. “You said I was going be like you.” I swear my fuckin’ legs are still growing. The shorts seemed to catch further down on my quads than they had before. Man, size is great and all but it’s hell trying to keep up with clothing. “Lenny?” “Oh yeah, I mean you’ll prolly get the same thing from me that I got from my buddy Rory. All this.” Then I shrugged my shoulders and arms and chest. He got the idea. “That’s how you got so big? You weren’t like this a couple months ago, the first time we met.” “Nope,” I agreed, snagging one of my sandals with my foot. “It all started just about then, but him first then me.” I stood up and began to pull on my shirt, another tough task. “And maybe you next, that’s all I’m saying.” My head popped through the neck of the shirt and I could see him again. He looked scared, like he’d just gotten bad news from the doctor. I felt for him – I’d been there myself not too long before – but I knew it would pass. He’d get into it. “So how big are you,” he was asking but with an expression that said he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “I was a little over 280 on Thursday.” I didn’t mention my expanding thighs. “No,” he groaned. ”I can’t get that big. I couldn’t explain it at work. Or to my family – they’d never understand.” His voice was rising. “Hey.” I let my own voice, deeper now than it had ever been, drop a notch. He shut up immediately. “Relax,” I ordered. “Maybe you have nothing to worry about. Maybe this was all just a crazy fuck you can tell your friends about over brunch.” I was lying but he didn’t know that. I’d seen the other two guys I messed around with so I knew what was going to happen. Plus Rory and I talked about it when we ran into each other few days earlier at a club uptown. When the feeling came on we fucked – nothing stopped us – and the guy we fucked ended up like us in a few weeks, like it or not. Mehmet was in for a big, wild-ass ride and it didn’t matter how work or family or anyone else felt about it. Hell, it didn’t even matter how he felt about it. But like I said, I understood what he was going through. I bent down and gave him a long slow kiss and wasn’t surprised to notice his dick start to harden between his legs. When the kiss ended I held his chin and tried to give him a big-brother type look. I have no idea if it actually came across that way. “You’re gonna be fine,” I said, “no matter what happens. Trust me.” And because he had no choice he nodded in agreement, desperation shining in his eyes, the poor little fuck. Mehmet stayed in for the rest of the night, trying to forget what happened that day but that proved difficult given that his apartment reeked of Lenny. Each time the huge man came to mind a picture of their sweaty bodies joined together would flash through his brain and he would squeeze his eyes shut, trying vainly to erase the thought and feel of the man. It was impossible. On top of that he was ravenous which wasn’t surprising considering what he and Lenny had been up to for three or four hours. He resisted eating, though, thinking that the big man’s unbelievable prediction that he would grow huge couldn’t come true if he stopped eating. Well, maybe not stop completely since that would simply result in starvation but he could limit his intake and fight whatever it was Lenny and his friend Rory had somehow caught. By 1 AM, surrounded by the remains of a late night dash to a diner around the corner for the largest takeout order he’d ever made, Mehmet realized it was not going to be as easy as he hoped. At least the painful contractions of his stomach were gone and he was able to sleep. He’d come up with a new plan in the morning. And he would have made a new plan but he overslept and barely had enough time to throw on some clothes and run out the door to get to work on time. It was a crazy Monday at the bank and despite his initial concerns that whatever happened to Lenny would happen to him he was soon fixated on work and only had an occasional moment to think about the previous afternoon. When lunchtime came he was certainly hungry but not in a crazy way and by the time Monday evening came he pretty much decided that his fears were overblown. It should have been impossible to make the kind of muscle gains Lenny made in such a short period of time but who knew what weird steroids were available these days. Mehmet had no interest in such things so he’d never looked into them but it wouldn’t be surprising if there was something out there that blew you up temporarily or caused you to retain massive amounts of water. Plus there was that synthol stuff that people injected. For all he knew Lenny could have been carrying around enough oil to deep fry köfte. By the time he headed home after his long day Mehmet wasn’t so concerned about morphing into some kind of muscled hulk. Instead he was remembering the amazingly hot sex he and Lenny had. In a way it was embarrassing since he was such a committed top but there was no way Mehmet could deny the lust and passion he’d felt when 280 pounds of muscle was pulverizing his tight hole. The memory was powerful enough that he had to shift his briefcase in front of his groin as he walked the crowded streets of the financial district on his way to the train. Displaying an obvious erection outside the stock exchange was hardly the way to climb the corporate ladder. When he got home he downed a protein drink and got ready for the gym but on his way out the door stopped and started looking around his desk. He had a distinct memory of Lenny writing down his number on a handy pad of paper after they finished their lunchtime fuck a few months before but he couldn’t find it now. Mehmet could only frown in frustration that he neglected to transfer the number to his phone when he had the chance. Lenny just didn’t seem very important at the time. If nothing else the memory of the new huge Lenny (however he’d gotten that way) made Mehmet work extra hard at the gym that night. Yeah the sex had been hot but it wasn’t like he was going to turn into some kind of super bottom because of it. He lifted hard and heavy and ended up with a great looking pump. It must have been great because he got looks from a lot of different guys that night, and as the workout continued he found himself returning some of the predatory looks that came his way. In the end it came down to a red-headed go-go boy he once saw dancing on the bar at Roundhouse and this black dude who entered the gym in a very modern English suit but hit the gym floor in a pair of tight nylon running shorts that barely covered his curvaceous ass. Feeling much more like his old self Mehmet chose the running shorts. In a few days Lenny was just a hot memory that came to mind at odd times when he was working or at the gym or out with friends. Mehmet kept an eye out for him but never saw him at any of the bars or clubs he went to. Once he saw a big, built guy walking towards him down Empire Avenue that from a distance looked like Lenny, but on closer inspection it was just a very well built stranger. Mehmet stared the guy down as they passed each other but the big man was focused on a blonde model dude at his side and didn’t notice. Mehmet managed to live a kind of fantasy for week before reality intervened and let him know he hadn’t avoided Lenny’s prediction. There was a scale in his bathroom which was always a bit dusty because he never bothered using it, preferring to gauge his fitness by what he saw in the mirror. He’d caught site of it there in the corner after his second encounter with Lenny and laughed to himself, vowing he wouldn’t give into paranoia by weighing himself now. But a week later he was starting to have doubts as his gym workouts became more and more intense and his work clothes started feeling strangely tight. One morning, after wrestling to close the top button on a dress shirt (the match ended when the button went flying off behind the radiator), Mehmet took a deep breath and stepped on the scale, more to disprove his fears than confirm them. Only they were confirmed – he was at 194 pounds and he was pretty damn sure he’d been about 185 for the entire summer. The view in the mirror agreed with the scale even though he’d been trying to ignore the warnings in the back of his mind. He definitely looked bigger and fuller, but tighter as well, more ripped than normal. He was pretty sure his waist had gone down some, maybe even an inch, and it was only 31 before. He sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands wondering what to do. Logically he should cut out the gym but that seemed so drastic. It was the anchor of his life, in all honesty, and had been ever since he first had sex with another guy. Why should he have to give it up? “So you don’t become some kind of freak,” he quietly told himself. He didn’t wear a tie to work that day, lying to his boss about a coffee mishap on the way to work. At lunchtime bought a new tie and a bigger shirt but delayed pricing new suits. They might just be a waste of money if he continued growing. When he got back to the office he called and made an appointment with his doctor. The receptionist told him they didn’t have an opening until the end of the week. On Friday he sat in his underwear on the examining table at the doctor’s office, half frustrated but half gratified. He’d done his best all week to scale back on his workouts but once in the gym it proved impossible. He had so much energy and such a need to move weight that he always ended up killing each workout. He was lifting heavier weight every day and scarfing down more and more calories afterwards in an attempt to fill the bottomless pit that was his stomach. His inability to turn off this new-found energy caused the frustration but he couldn’t fight the excitement he felt every time he looked in the mirror and saw the expanding width of his torso or the increased mass in his thighs. Strangely, it didn’t seem to be translating into a higher sex drive. He’d hooked up with that black guy the day after Lenny but since then he hadn’t really had the urge to fuck around again even though the signals he was getting at the gym, on the street and on the subway were increasingly brazen. Some of the guys signaling were fucking hot, he could see that, but he hadn’t felt the need to play with any of them. Not that his dick wasn’t up and ready – it was half hard most of the time and when at full mast he could see changes there too which was yet another thing that flat out impossible. “Hello, Mehmet,” a voice said interrupting his thoughts. “It’s nice to see you again.” Dr. Lovejoy stepped through the examining room doorway and shut it behind him. When he finally got insurance a few years back Mehmet had insisted on finding a gay doctor and a friend told him that Ken Lovejoy was the man to see. He was a great doctor but also hot as hell even if he was happily married to a popular gay dentist. The couple lived in Kensington and partied at circuit events around the world when they weren’t seeing patients in the city. Mehmet had been lucky to find a place on the doctor’s roster of patients. Mehmet smiled in response to Lovejoy’s greeting and managed a quiet hello in response. He’d seen the doctor a couple times a year for a while now but suddenly he took a fresh look at the man. Short brown hair, wide dark eyes and beautiful lips – fuck, Lovejoy really was a handsome guy, wasn’t he. The white lab coat he wore with a navy blue polo shirt underneath did nothing to hide that the doctor kept himself in good shape. No, excellent shape. “Wow, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it,” Lovejoy said as he gave Mehmet a slow up and down look. “You’ve really bulked up. Looks great.” He offered a bright smile and looked down at the chart he’d been given by his staff. “It’s time for us to update some basic info which is why they ask you to strip down. Why don’t you step over here and we’ll get through that before we talk about why you’ve come in.” He motioned Mehmet over to a scale and then fiddled with the weight bar when he stepped on. “209.4,” he muttered while updating the chart. He checked Mehmet’s height as well but that hadn’t changed. The patient didn’t say anything while this was going on and instead continued to study the good doctor. When had Ken Lovejoy gotten so fucking sexy? He’d always been hot but damn, right now he looked good enough to eat. Mehmet could feel his dick hardening in his briefs but found he didn’t care. It was a natural reaction; the doctor must have seen it a million times before. “So what’s up?” Lovejoy finally asked when the basics were out of the way and they were seated again, Mehmet on the examining table and Lovejoy in a nearby chair. “I’ve put on a lot of weight lately and I just wanted to be sure everything was OK,” Mehmet said smoothly, his eyes fixed on the other man’s. He’d come here to get medical help but suddenly that seemed irrelevant. All he could think about right now was what the doctor looked like under his clothes. “You’ve gained more than thirty pounds since your last visit,” the doctor said giving Mehmet a firm but understanding look. “Do you want to tell me what you’re on?” Mehmet spread his hands in a mute denial of the doctor’s accusation and was gratified to see Lovejoy’s eyes drop down to his chest and widening lats. “Uh, well, all I can say is that if you want me to provide you with guidance you’ve got to be honest with me. That’s not natural weight gain, we both know that.” “I’m not taking anything,” Mehmet replied, “and that’s the truth. It’s crazy but I’m growing everywhere.” He emphasized the last word and was once again gratified to see Lovejoy’s eyes drop down, this time to his groin where his dick was harder than it had been in a couple weeks. The doctor’s eyes widened Mehmet hopped off the table and quickly slid off his briefs. “Jesus,” Ken breathed and stared at his patient’s throbbing dick a moment before quickly turning his head to check that the door was still closed. Then, in a flustered voice, “Put your underwear back on.” “Don’t you want to examine me?” Mehmet asked in a low growl and Lovejoy looked up in surprise at the change in his patient’s demeanor. Mehmet had a plan when he came here, a hope that the doctor could help him find some way to slow and eventually stop the changes happening to his body. Maybe not right away, but that was only because he’d come to realize that a little more size wasn’t a huge problem. In the days since he made the appointment he decided that 215 pounds was as far as he could realistically go without getting too many questions at work or from his family. Yeah, 215 at the most. Only right now that didn’t seem very important. No, what was really important was getting a look a Lovejoy in the buff. Mehmet was starting to feel the buzz he’d been feeling in the gym the last couple weeks, that sense of strength and purpose only right now there weren’t any weights to work on. The doc would have to fill in this time and maybe afterwards they could talk about how to keep him below 225. Maybe 230. The doctor gulped at the look in Mehmet’s eyes and jumped to his feet. He could have made a break for the door then but instead he stood rooted to the ground as his patient stepped up and put his hands in the opening at the top of his lab coat, pulling down hard so that the buttons went flying and it opened wide to display his chest under the tight shirt below. “Mehmet, we can’t do this,” he gasped, belatedly moving backwards until he was pressed up against a nearby cabinet. “I’m your physician and-.” They both knew that fact so it wasn’t any great loss when Mehmet silenced him with a deep kiss, his tongue forcing its way deep into the doctor’s mouth. Ken halfheartedly resisted but within a few seconds he was grappling back, his hands grabbing at the other man’s broad, naked back pulling him in closer. Mehmet’s rock hard dick was sandwich between their stomachs, leaking onto the blue polo shirt until it too was pulled off and discarded into the growing heap of clothing in the corner. Outside in the doctor’s office a nurse walking by the examination room stopped when he heard a strange sound. He paused and listened for a moment before raising his hand to knock on the door. Another muffled sound made him reconsider and then slowly lower his hand. He shook his head and continued on down the corridor. The calendar said fall but the weather still felt like summer so the piers were crowded as Lenny strolled across Riverside Highway and into the throngs gathered in the clean, new parks recently constructed near the bay. People turned and stared as he ambled by in nothing but a pair of very tight basketball shorts and unlaced basketball shoes. He’d just tried out a new gym a few blocks away and though there were signs posted mandating proper workout attire no one had the nerve to approach a 300+ pound mass of muscle to tell him he should be wearing a shirt. The workout went well even if the weights were a bit on the light side. He walked by the water, idly watching the crowd but not bothering to return the eager looks coming at him from all sides. He’d screwed a Chinese food delivery guy just a couple nights earlier and didn’t feel the need to hook up again. It would probably be another couple weeks before he felt the urge and when it happened it’d undoubtedly be as surprising to him as it was to whomever he selected. The delivery guy certainly hadn’t expected the tip he’d gotten. Glancing at an expense of grass beside the path where he was walking Lenny caught site of a very large, swarthy man in a yellow speedo sunning himself on a blanket. A wide smile spread across his face and he walked over, standing so he blocked the sun falling on the reclining form. The guy on the ground shielded his eyes as he looked up and then started chuckling when he saw who was standing there. “You’re so fucking big you’re causing an eclipse,” Mehmet joked, which just caused Lenny to shrug his huge delts before dropping down onto the blanket. “You’re looking pretty huge yourself,” he said, returning the compliment. “I guess you got into the swing of things after all.” “Yeah, I worked it all out. Just took some getting used to.” The too looked each other over, two massively muscled men that could hop up on the Olympia stage and easily take first and second place. It was crazy and made absolutely no sense but neither one was particularly worried about that. They had both changed into something bigger and better than before and that was enough for now. If there was something more they’d deal with it when it came. “You fucked around recently?” Lenny asked. “Bout a week ago, I guess,” Mehmet answered, thinking back. “My neighbor downstairs pounded on my door cuz I was making too much noise walking around. As soon as I saw him there I knew…” He shrugged and Lenny nodded in response. That’s how it worked. They just knew. The two huge men looked off into the crowd in companionable silence. After a few minutes Lenny laughed out loud and hollered, “Rory!” An enormous man – bigger even than Lenny – turned his head and then walked over with a slow, bow-legged gait. He had his arm slung possessively around the neck of a much smaller man at his side. The little guy looked vaguely familiar to Mehmet from his days down in the financial district which reminded him that he hadn’t been to work for a while. Good thing money wasn’t hard to come by when you were built like they were. Lenny climbed to his feet and Mehmet did the same as Rory approached. By now there was a small crowd forming a respectful distance away as people tried to make sense of three huge men in such close proximity. Most of the spectators were gay men though there were a number of women as well. “Heya, Ror,” Lenny said and the two men came together in a massive half hug. “How ya doing?” “I’m great, Len. Just heading to my friend’s to relax for a while.” Here he gave his smaller companion a tight squeeze that forced most of the air from the guy’s lungs. He looked a bit dazed as if unsure that he was ready for what was about to happen to him. “Excellent. Hey, this is my buddy, Mehmet. We hooked up a ways back.” Rory smiled and reached forward with his free hand, hooking Mehmet’s neck and pulling him in for a deep kiss. His smaller companion gasped in shock at the site as did a few of the jealous crowd. “Great to meet you,” Rory said stepping back. “Lenny has great taste.” “He did me a favor,” Mehmet said with a sly smile in Lenny’s direction. “I guess you both did in a way.” “Glad I could help. Hey, I gotta get my friend home,” Rory said with a deadpan look. “You know how it is.” The other two big men nodded in understanding and watched as Rory led his quarry off the grass and back down the sidewalk, the crowd parting before him like the Red Sea. “I’m gonna get going too,” Lenny said and gave Mehmet a bone cracking hug before heading up towards the piers. Mehmet watched him go and then lay back down on his blanket to get some more sun before it was time to pack up and hit the gym.
  14. The Bug: Lenny

    Part 2 of this story. Please let me know what you think. -------------------- The following work of fiction portrays men in sexual situations. Please do not read if you are not interested in stories written for erotic purposes, if you are not of legal age, or if it is illegal for you to read sexually explicit material in this format or through this medium. All characters in this work are fictional. As such, they are immune to any and all types of infectious diseases, including the AIDS virus. You are not fictional and therefore you are not immune. Follow safer sex guidelines or risk having some brainless disease write the ending of your life story for you. Copyright 2010 - 2014 by [email protected] Part 1 - The Bug: Rory Part 3 - The Bug: Mehmet Part 2 The Bug: Lenny My father always expected me to take over his store someday. He started working there when he was only seven, stocking shelves and carrying vegetables up from the basement while my grandfather manned the front counter, selling milk, eggs and cigarettes while talking to the men from the block about baseball and politics. Outside the store, in the Turkish and Lebanese neighborhood where we lived, the old women in black shawls would walk arm-in-arm down the sidewalk, telling stories about their neighbors and casting critical eyes on the children playing in the street. My family had a store back in Turkey before my great-grandfather came to America. I never learned why he left there but I think it was because he married my great-grandmother, Nasia, who was Greek. I barely remember her, she died when I was six, but she scared me. In my memories she’s always staring at me with dark eyes sunk in a wrinkled face as if she knows I’ve done something wrong. Sometime early on I vowed to escape, across the river and into the city that I could see in the distance, tall towers climbing into the sky. I wanted to leave the store, the neighborhood and the insular group of Turkish families that traded sons and daughters in an Old-World game of marriage and alliance. I wasn’t ready to admit what I really wanted but I knew I couldn’t marry any of those girls, that I had to leave before my life was anchored in the same tenements that had already captured my father and brothers, uncles and cousins. When I was fourteen I rode the subway into the city with my mother, my aunt and two cousins to visit my Uncle Berker who was in the hospital for an operation. The city was so busy with so many people, all going somewhere important. We ate lunch at a corner diner where my mother and aunt talked in hushed tones about my uncle while my cousins and I kicked at each other under the table. I got bored with the foot game after a while so I looked around and saw a man clearing tables, stacking dishes in a plastic tub to be taken to the kitchen. He might have been 25 or 30, dark like me but certainly not Turkish. When he lifted the tub his arms flexed, filling the rolled up sleeves of his t-shirt, a tattooed eagle on his facing arm undulating with the motion of the muscle underneath. I suddenly felt a kick to my stomach as if one of my cousins had managed a well-placed blow with their sneaker. For the rest of lunch I watched him, whenever he was out front, hoping to see him flex his arms again. I was so distracted I didn’t notice my family getting up from the table and my mother had to grab me by the head to get my attention. “Mehmet, what’s wrong with you?” I couldn’t say, wouldn’t say, knew that she’d never understand. That night in bed, my younger brother asleep in the bunk above me, I lay thinking about that arm and its eagle, dreaming what it would feel like to be strong like that. On my eighteenth birthday, a few weeks after I graduated high school, I told my father I had been accepted to City University. He was silent for a moment, pursing his lips and looking away from me in a recognizable sign that he was unhappy. I knew he was trying to decide how this would affect the store and the ever increasing hours he had me chained there. But I also knew that he couldn’t disagree with me going to college, that education was as important as milk and cigarettes, maybe more so. He finally, painfully, agreed that I could work evenings and weekends, was almost angry when I said I’d need at least a couple nights off to do homework. A month later I found a cheap apartment share in the city and a job at a restaurant. By Christmas I was only going home every other weekend to see my younger brother Omer glaring from the door of the family store as I walked by, father’s angry replacement for me. At the restaurant where I bussed tables, stacking dishes in a tub before taking them to the back to be cleaned, there was a bartender named Rolo. He was couple years older than me, originally from Spain but so long ago he sounded and acted more American than I did. He joked with me as we worked, throwing ice at me as I passed by or stealing food from my plate as I ate in the break room. They made him wear all black, a black buttoned down shirt and black slacks, but you could still tell he was in great shape. His shoulders seemed overly broad, his waist almost too small, and I couldn’t help noticing his ass molding the rear of his pants. I’d listen to the female waiters whispering about him when he left the room, my heart beat pounding in my ears as I thought the things they said aloud. Once Rolo caught me as I was leaving work on a warm August night when the city seemed busier at 2 AM then it had all day long. He walked with me down the sidewalk, cracking jokes about the people at the restaurant, making me laugh even though my stomach was queasy and my palms sweaty. At the corner of Empire Avenue and 28th Street he motioned with his head in mid-sentence and I found myself walking to his apartment, a 3rd floor walkup in a shabby building. I sat silently on his futon, afraid my voice would quaver and broadcast my fear if I spoke. He must have known because he kept up an easy patter as he unbuttoned and shrugged off his shirt, displaying a tight white tank top seemingly sprayed onto his wide, hairless torso. When he put his hand on my knee I felt my heart stop but it must have kept beating because moments later our arms were locked around each other and we were kissing. He felt amazing, all smooth and muscle under velvet skin. We broke the kiss and then his lips were on my neck and ears, making me gasp at the touch. I licked his traps and on down to his swelling biceps, which flexed and writhed as we grappled. I was afraid he’d be disappointed – I was slim and tight but not nearly as muscular as him – but his passion showed that he was as turned on as me. When he rolled over onto his stomach and raised his perfect ass it seemed so natural for me to take him, like it was what I’d been missing all my life. He couldn’t understand the words I moaned in his ear, curses and praise in my father’s tongue, but he could feel my excitement as I drove into him with the strength of years of pent-up lust. I felt his tight hole spasm as he came, triggering my own climax in turn Rolo and I became lovers. Not that night but five years later, long after we’d both left the restaurant. I ran into him at a house party shortly after he got back from Los Angeles where he had moved for couple years in hopes of becoming an actor. We fucked at my place in Kensington, the apartment I’d moved into after graduating college and getting my first real job. He kept going on about how much bigger I was and I just smiled down at him, his legs wrapped around my waist and my hands pinning his wrists to the bed above his head. I was bigger and more muscular but it was all because of him, because of what I loved so much that night he first took his shirt off. We were only together eight months but we parted friends when he hopped a plane to Miami and the next chapter in his life. I settled down into my routine of work and the gym, and the occasional visits back home to the family where I endured a parade of young Turkish women who needed a husband just as it was assumed I needed a wife. After each visit I’d run for the subway and escape back to civilization for a frenzied workout and a casual fling with some tight young stud. That’s how I met Lenny, a guy from the gym that I sometimes saw out at night or at the piers on summer afternoons. He was sexy enough, blondish brown hair and a beautiful ass, but with a bitchy streak that thankfully I could ignore when we were fucking. I’d seen him looking at the gym a couple times and smiled in response, not in any hurry since he seemed like just one of the many interchangeable guys you meet in the gay ghetto. One day things came together and we started talking during a late morning chest workout when I was supposed to be working from home, my cell phone being my only real connection to the office that day. I took him to my place and fucked him twice before lunch was over. We exchanged numbers and I forgot about him. Not long after my older brother Selim announced to the family he was leaving his wife and daughters for a Puerto Rican woman from the auto supply company where he worked. You’d have thought the world was coming to an end. I did my best to stay out of the whole thing though my mother managed to guilt me into one meeting with him. I didn’t attempt to change his mind – given my family secret it seemed hypocritical to even try. I met his new inamorata that Sunday after Selim and I finished lunch at a tapas place near Collins Square. She seemed very nice, much nicer than the woman my father had previously convinced him to marry. I said goodbye and watched them disappear into the midday crowd, Selim’s arm tight around her waist. I was sorry for my nieces, I knew this wouldn’t be easy on them, but I hoped for the best for my brother. I also decided the best antidote to family stress was the gym. I headed home, cutting over towards 7th Avenue on 16th Street. Halfway down the block my family ruminations were kicked to the curb when I saw this big guy walking towards me. He was dressed in standard Kensington fashion – sunglasses, sleeveless t-shirt, knee length shorts and sandals – but normality stopped there. He was really big, huge in fact. Massive torso, tiny waist and back out to gigantic legs that seemed to struggle to get around each other as he walked. There were plenty of gym boys in this part of town, including me, but this guy looked like a professional bodybuilder and was easily the biggest person I’d ever seen in real life. I realized my mouth was open and I snapped it shut as we approached each other, him taking up a good portion of the sidewalk. He slowed as we neared and a cocky smile appeared on his face, taking me by surprise. “Hey man, how ya been?” He seemed to be speaking to me but I had no idea why. I looked around but as was often the case the street was nearly empty despite the crowds that thronged the avenues this block ran between. “Uh, I - I’m good,” I stuttered, positive that he had mistaken me for someone else. He reached up to his glasses and my eyes latched onto his forearm, probably as big around as my bicep, the muscle fibers clear and distinct under the skin. When his eyes appeared I did a double-take; he did look familiar, sort of, though I couldn’t imagine why. There was no way I could ever have forgotten that body. “So here we are and it’s lunchtime again,” he said with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah it is. I just ate with my brother…” Inwardly I kicked myself for sounding so inane. Who the hell was this big fucker? He moved towards me and I couldn’t help stepping back a half-step, intimidated as that enormous chest neared mine. “I liked your music, I wanna hear it again,” he said in a low voice and somehow that did it. “Lenny,” I breathed as I felt one of his big hands slide around my waist. “Who’d ya think?” he asked as he leaned in and kissed me there on 16th Street. I think I resisted, or tried, but it was like pushing against a building. He only tightened his grip in response. His tongue pushed into my mouth like he owned it, as forceful a kiss as I’d ever received. When he finally pulled back, his eyes staring deep into mine, I could see the outlines of the guy I had picked up at the gym and fucked those few months ago but that was all that was similar. Everything else had changed, impossibly changed. I suddenly felt the urge to run. As if sensing my half-formed intention he turned me back the way I was headed, walked me to 7th and then down the avenue towards my apartment. It was weird feeling such a huge presence at my shoulder, watching people step aside as we approach, some in surprise, some with burgeoning lust on their faces. I guess I’m a good-looking enough guy that I’m used to some attention when I walk through my part of the city, but this was something altogether different. People were as awestruck with him as I was, some stopping to stare, a few even taking pictures with their phones. Lenny ignored them all, walking along as if he owned the sidewalk. No one seemed to be in the mood to contest his ownership. A very quiet and logical corner of my brain was running down a list of reasons why this couldn’t be happening. The first item on the list was that Lenny was smaller than me – I knew this for a fact having been naked with him only eight or nine weeks earlier. Therefore, the behemoth next to me could not be Lenny. I found some momentary comfort in this as if it were evidence my brain was still functioning but then Lenny’s over-sized arm bumped into and pushed aside my own and the point was lost. A bit further down the list was the fact that I was a strict top – I’d only ever considered switching positions once after a drunken New Year’s party. My desire to experiment ended at the moment of first contact when I suddenly decided there were some things I didn’t need to experience. Now I found myself nearing home with a man who was very obviously in charge, despite the roles we’d played last time we met. I avoided the eyes of my doorman as Lenny walked me across the lobby of my building to the elevator. We shared the ride up with an older woman who lived somewhere on a floor above me. I imagined her disapproval of the big man’s hand cradling my ass as we got off on my floor. I fumbled with the key to my door, Lenny’s torso pressed into the back of mine, his hands gripping my hips. When the door finally opened he thrust me into the apartment, kicking it shut behind us, and then whipped me around, pressing his lips into mine once again. To say that he was overpowering was an understatement – his arms were like a vice around my torso while his mouth and tongue stole the breath from my lungs. I could barely think as he hefted me, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist, and thudded through my open bedroom door. It was only when he tossed me on the bed that I had a moment to think, to try and clear the thought and feel and smell of him from my brain. It was only a short moment because standing next to the bed he gripped the bottom of his shirt and tore it over his head. As his impossibly wide torso came into view my mouth fell open once again and the logical part of my brain gave up the fight, giving into the lust that overcame me. I didn’t resist as he pulled off my shoes and then opened my pants before pulling them off as well. Seeing all that muscle bunching and moving under the skin, the roll of his chest and shoulders as moved me around like a toy, made me so hot I started grabbing at him, trying to pull him onto me. He kicked off his sandals and managed to push his shorts down over his thick thighs and straining erection, and then he climbed up on to the bed and over me, his arms like thick columns on either side of my head. “Whadya want?” he asked in a husky voice, his eyes burning into mine. “You,” I gasped, completely lost in his strength. “I want you.” Then his arms collapsed and he was on me, his over-sized muscle covering me completely as his hips forced my legs wide apart. Whatever my previous trepidation or concern it was gone now, completely subsumed in my need for him and his body. I didn’t know what time it was but it was twilight outside my apartment windows. There was a bedside clock on the other side of Lenny but it was obscured by the height of his slowly rising and falling torso. He lay on his stomach, his far arm lying on the bed above his head, his face turned towards me so I could see one of his now closed eyes. It was so strange, I could still see the shade of the gym twink I’d met before, like the imprint of a child in the features of the man he would later become. I’d never been a muscle whore, never been attracted to the big steroid boys who grunted and groaned their way around the gym. Lenny, the old Lenny, was my type, in part because I always wanted to be the one on top, calling the shots, directing the action. Now, coming down from this recent sexual high, my mind was just starting to try to deal with finding myself on the opposite side of things. Only half thinking I ran a finger from his shoulder down the curve of his tricep, marveling at his human landscape. “Like what you see?” he asked, surprising me. “You know I do,” I replied in a whisper. He opened the one eye, looking at me for a few seconds before pushing himself up on his immense arms and then swinging his legs onto the floor. “Good,” he continued as he stood and headed for my bathroom, “cuz this is gonna be you in a little while.” I stared after him, a puzzled look spreading across my face, trying to figure out what he meant.
  15. The Bug: Rory

    I couldn't find this anywhere on the new forum so I thought I'd upload it again. More parts are in the works (Part 2 is already done and was posted on the last site). Please let me know what you think. -------------------- The following work of fiction portrays men in sexual situations. Please do not read if you are not interested in stories written for erotic purposes, if you are not of legal age, or if it is illegal for you to read sexually explicit material in this format or through this medium. All characters in this work are fictional. As such, they are immune to any and all types of infectious diseases, including the AIDS virus. You are not fictional and therefore you are not immune. Follow safer sex guidelines or risk having some brainless disease write the ending of your life story for you. Copyright 2009 - 2014 by [email protected] Part 2 - The Bug: Lenny Part 3 - The Bug: Mehmet Part 1 The Bug: Rory On Tuesday I was supposed to have lunch with Rory but I blew him off. I felt a little guilty but the cute guy from my gym, the one I thought was Italian but who turned out to be Turkish, gave me a come hither smile as we were alternating on the pec deck machine. One thing led to another and I ended up spending lunch on my back at his place, Turkish music competing with the traffic noise from 7th Avenue that filtered through the open window. I called and left a message for Rory that evening, inventing a crisis at work and asking if we could reschedule for Thursday. He sent a text after I went to sleep agreeing, so Wednesday morning I suggested we meet at Little Eddie’s downtown around 1 PM. He sent back a quick, “see u there”. True to form I was late and he was waiting when I finally got to Little Eddie’s. He was sitting by the wall in the back, far away from the large windows that looked out on the street. Rory was always shy and usually sought out the quietest corner, furthest away from the crowds. In other words we’re nothing alike but somehow back in 9th grade we became friends and we’ve stuck with each other since. Do I love him? Yeah, like the little brother I never had, even though he’s four months older than me. Still, he’s annoying as fuck, a fact I remind him of every chance I get. “Jesus, Ror, couldn’t you find a table in the kitchen?” He looked confused for a moment, shooting a glance at the swinging doors that lead off to the back, and then words came tumbling out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, I thought–, I mean, we can change, but this was free–, I don’t care if we–.” “Relax, relax, I kid,” I said looking heavenward and sliding into my chair. He had wavy brown hair that fell over his ears and framed a boyish face. That he had glasses was no surprise, since no self-respecting geek went without, but he was wearing the same style that he’d worn when we met 12 years before. I had not been successful in convincing him to modernize. “I just meant that most people come here to see the action and maybe take a little home with them. You’re not going to get lucky back here in Siberia.” “Oh, I get it,” he said and smiled an embarrassed smile, a really killer smile, actually, that if properly utilized could have gotten him more action that afternoon than he’d seen in the last year. He may not have been the hottest thing in town but Rory had a lot going for him. What he did not have was even an iota of self-confidence. It had been thus for years and though I doted on my little friend I’d pretty much given up on trying to nudge him into the slow lane (currently he was parked on the side of the road). He was as predictable as mud which is why I was surprised at the question he sprang on me. “Do you think I should join a gym?” “Well, uh, yeah, of course,” I stuttered, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. “I mean you should have joined first thing after graduating high school but it’s never too late.” “Yeah,” he agreed, looking off into the distance, “I was thinking the same thing.” “Great, but why now? You’ve never been interested in anything physical before.” His eyes slid away and I realized he was embarrassed. My spider sense began to tingle. “Oh my god, something happened, didn’t it? What happened, Rory? What tawdry, disgusting little thing happened that’s convinced you to start working out?” He grimaced but didn’t bother trying to deny it. “It wasn’t tawdry or disgusting, it was just…. I don’t know, just kind of odd.” He paused but saw that I was ready to jump in and went on before I could. “I was on the subway yesterday, on my way home from work, and this guy got on at Collins Square. I don’t even know why I looked up, it wasn’t my stop, but I saw him come through the doors and Lenny, he was just huge. I think he was the biggest guy I’ve ever seen.” Rory’s eyes were shining like he’d seen Madonna at a spring or something. “He walked funny, he was so big. He was in this red t-shirt and it was so tight… There was only one seat open, right next to me, and he took it so I was kind of smashed up next to him and his big arm was all on me. I didn’t want to stare, I thought he might get mad or something, but I looked down at his thigh next to mine and it was like you could have fit three of my legs into one leg of his jeans. I couldn’t believe it….” Rory trailed off, reliving this magnificent moment. I was impressed – I’d never seen him half as excited about a guy before. “So what happened, dork? You’re leavin’ me hangin’ here.” He cleared his throat before going on. “Well, not much. I mean we just sat there until Richland Avenue where he got off.” It was my turn to grimace. “Of course you didn’t say hello or nice day or what huge legs you have, I’m sure. But what about him, did he give you any sign?” “No, not really. He just sat there and breathed. So did I. He had a really nice smell.” I couldn’t help but sigh. Leave it to Rory to make a mountain out of a molehill. Still, if it pushed him to get up and out of his apartment with any regularity then it was to be supported. “I never knew you were into big muscle or smells, but hey, whatever works for you.” He began to dispute this description of his predilections but ignored him. “I think it’s a good idea, joining the gym, that is. You might as well join City Athletics, there’s one a couple blocks from your place. You can talk to my friend Kurt there, he can probably give you a deal.” “Sure, sure, City Athletics, Kurt.” “I think they give you a free training session when you start plus I can show you a few things. I know my way around.” I did know my way around the gym, though I wasn’t huge or anything. I was tight, though, and my abs were almost excellent. I could teach Rory a thing or two. “Thanks, Lenny. I’ll go this afternoon.” And that’s exactly what he did. My friend Kurt mentioned it to me when I ran into him that weekend at Gold Dust Lounge. He yelled in my ear over the dance music that my friend Rory had joined and hired a personal trainer. I was happy for the little dork though I was a bit distracted from Kurt’s news by the blonde guy a little further down the bar who kept throwing me half-smiles over the shoulder of what I assumed was a boyfriend. The blonde guy was named Randy, the boyfriend was actually a cousin newly out of the closet, and the night ended with Randy and I fucking like rabbits back at my place. In a nice bit of symmetry the cousin ended up with Kurt. For eighteen days we continued to fuck like rabbits. It was a lot of fun until a simple question about the life-size photo of he and his ex-boyfriend that hung over his bed caused a hysterical crying jag (on his part) that was not sexy. The last time I saw him he was leaving an embarrassingly long message on the ex’s voicemail begging to be taken back. Honestly, I hope it works out for them. Back amongst the non-hysterical I started checking in with my friends, shooting messages to Rory among others. His text reply was a short, seemingly terse, ‘hitting the weights. later’. It looked like he was sticking with that gym thing, at least for a few weeks. It was another week before I found myself at loose ends in his neighborhood and decided to actually give him a call this time. “Yeah?” He sounded a little groggy, like the phone woke him up. “Ror, baby, I’m on your block. Invite me up.” There was a delay as if he was trying to decide whether or not to offer the invite but before I could get offended he simply replied, “Yeah, OK. Come up.” I took the elevator to his floor, found his apartment door was open a crack and let myself in. Just inside the door I saw a gym bag on the floor and wondered if he’d dropped it there after he last worked out or if he’d already prepared for the next one. Knowing Rory it was probably the latter. The living room was empty, as was the kitchen, but he came out of the bathroom before I could look any further. His hair was messy and he was rubbing his eyes so I guess I was right about him being asleep, but that thought was immediately pushed aside. He was dressed in just a tank top and some boxer briefs so it was very easy to see that Rory was bigger. I’m pretty good at math when I need to be, i.e. when it’s somehow connected to getting laid. Rory was about my height, say 5’ 10” (though I almost always claimed 6’). I’d seen him dressed down enough to know that he was one of those guys who ran to skinny rather than fat, let’s say around 145 pounds, smooth without any sort of definition. The guy in standing in front of me now wasn’t anything like that. We were still eye-to-eye but my gut told me this Rory was more like 170, maybe 175, and there was no missing the shape of the exposed biceps and shoulders or the weight of his thighs. It had been four weeks and somehow he’d put on about 25 pounds which I knew to be impossible, no matter what he was taking. “What the fuck happened to you?” I asked, my voice sounding strange, even to me. He frowned, yawned and then moved past me towards the kitchen. “I took the day off,” he said over his shoulder, then added. “Off from work, I mean.” “What do I look like, HR? I mean what happened to you. You’re bigger.” He was undoing the top of a large tub of protein powder and proceeded to pour two scoops into a shaker. Standing in profile to me I could see the curve of his pecs up front and his ass in back. This definitely was not the same Rory. “I’m getting there,” was all he said as he filled the shaker with tap water and then shook it violently. He chugged the mixture quickly and then rinsed the shaker before setting it back on the counter next to the protein. When he looked back at me his stare was direct and unconcerned, nothing like the shifty, side-eyed looks I usually got from Rory. I took a deep breath and tried again. “You look great, it’s obvious the gym is working out for you. But Ror, you must have put on 20 pounds and that’s not –.” “Twenty-seven,” he said calmly, interrupting. “Fine, twenty-seven then, but that’s crazy. No one gains weight like that.” He shrugged, displaying his newly rounded shoulders and the sweep of his traps, and I suddenly felt a rush of desire, a first for me with Rory. I tried to follow what he was saying. “It’s easy Lenny, you just have to lift and eat and sleep, and that’s what I’ve been doing, all month, nonstop.” He smiled a bit after this and I saw a glimmer of my old friend but he was hard to spot in this new body. Things seemed out of whack and I suddenly felt very uneasy. He ambled over to the sofa and dropped down on it, heaving out a big sigh. “I mean it’s not like I’m anywhere close to that guy on the train.” For a second I had no idea what he was talking about but then I remembered the big guy who had prompted his gym initiation. “Come on Ror, you said he was massive. You’re bigger but not that big.” “That’s what I’m saying,” was his steady reply. “I’m not massive… yet.” He stared up at where I stood standing in the middle of his living room and I realized he was slowly rubbing the bulge in his boxers. His other hand was on his chest, cupping the new mass of his right pec. It was too much for me – I made a lame excuse and left his apartment. If nothing else seeing Rory’s progress made me workout harder, as if I somehow needed to stop from falling behind. I was still confused at how he could have made so much progress so quickly – even steroids don’t work that fast – but over the next few weeks I managed to convince myself that he hadn’t really gotten as big as I’d assumed. Sure, everyone puts on some quick muscle when they first start at the gym and on a skinny guy like him it was going to be particularly noticeable. But 27 pounds? No way, he was just yanking my chain. I went on thinking that until one Thursday when I ran into my friend Kurt from City Athletics once again. This was at a place called Splinter (don’t ask me – dumbest club name I’ve ever heard), which was down in Dockside in some converted warehouse. The place was kind of dark so I almost walked right past him, but we caught each other’s eye at the same moment and I stopped. “What’s up, Kurt?” “Hey Lenny, I’m good,” he said. “You here alone?” He was looking over my shoulder as he asked it and I had to laugh. “Oh, you mean blondie? That didn’t work out – he had issues.” “No, I thought Rory might be with you.” “Rory? Here? No way, he wouldn’t be caught dead.” “Yeah? He said at the gym that he was thinking about…” Kurt’s voice trailed off and I could see his eyes lock on something behind me. I turned to see this big guy rolling up on us, his wide torso displayed in a very tight, barely-there tank top. The flashing disco lights caught on his big arms and shoulders, making the overbuilt muscle seem to flex in time to the music. He was my height but must have outweighed me by a good 50 pounds. He was handsome too. His head was shaved close, like a Marine, and it wasn’t until he shot me a raised eyebrow and a cocky grin that I realized I knew him. It took a couple more seconds, seconds that seemed to stretch into hours, before I somehow realized it was Rory. At least the face was Rory’s, though only in a similar way. The jaw was stronger and there was no trace of the shy passivity that had served as an everyday mask for my childhood buddy. This man looked ready to conquer the world. The body was beyond comprehension. He would have stood out anyway, even if I wasn’t rooted there making wordless, mental objections to the impossibility of it all. He was simply huge, like a competition bodybuilder. I’d never really been turned on by the big guys before, by the ones whose only goal was to get as big and massive as possible. I tended to go for the gym cuties that could workout and then drink all night at the club. But I couldn’t deny that Rory, this big, muscular behemoth that had replaced the skinny kid I used to know, had a magnetism I hadn’t experienced before. While I was trying to process all this Kurt was not wasting any time. He brushed by me and gave Rory a big hug that went on long enough to go from a come-on to a blatant invitation. Rory stood there, one big arm around Kurt’s waist, and smiled at me. After a couple seconds he whispered something in Kurt’s ear and then pushed him away, his eyes never leaving mine. He swaggered up to me and it was all I could do to not step back as that big chest approached. “Hey Lenny.” The voice, like the face, was only similar. It had changed, gotten deeper and rougher as if in compliment to his changed physique. “So we’ve never fucked,” he continued, stating something obvious to us both, “but we should. You’ve always had a nice ass.” It was about as Neanderthal an approach as I’d ever heard and normally I would have shot it down with something witty and slightly vicious. I didn’t do that this time. Instead I found myself nodding in agreement and following him out of the club. When we hit the street he turned and pulled me into the mass of his torso, his lips crushing mine, his tongue shooting into my mouth. His strength and size were overpowering. I found myself grabbing at his arms, his wide back, his minuscule waist, frantically exploring the contours of his muscle, oblivious to anyone watching us. He broke the kiss and looked into my eyes, our faces only inches apart. “I’m still getting bigger,” was all he said, and then he turned and pulled me by the arm down the street in the direction of my apartment. He fucked me all night long. Literally. Every time he came, roaring like a bull in heat, I was sure it was over but scant minutes later he’d pull me to him again, his strength surprising me each time. And me, who was normally so in control whether on top or bottom, gave it all up to him, without restraint. I couldn’t get enough of his mass, the way he positioned me at his whim, the smell of his sweat and muscle. At some point I fell into darkness, came awake later to feel him behind me, his arms clamped around my chest, still sliding up deep inside. Finally I passed out for good. In the morning he was gone and I could barely move. I painfully climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. The man in the mirror, his eyes wild, his lips bruised, was a stranger. I splashed some water on my face and felt a bit more real. A long, hot shower helped me gain a sliver of normalcy. Even so I called in to work, not even bothering to invent a lie, just telling my boss I’d had a hard night and couldn’t come in. After the night’s marathon session I was ravenous so I went down to the corner deli and picked up a couple breakfast sandwiches and a carton of orange juice. After eating I finally felt enough like myself that I wondered what I was going to do with my free day. Lying on the bed, I idly smoothed out the sheets then pressed my face into them, reliving his smell. Suddenly I felt the urge to go workout.
  16. A Little Too Far, Part I

    It was never supposed to be like this. Things just went a little too far. Okay, way too far. The first thing you have to understand is that I'm not an idiot. I was just sympathetic to Kyle's plight. I remembered what it was like to be a little guy, just starting out at the gym, wondering why my muscles wouldn't grow when everyone else's gains seemed to be in overdrive. But I'd fixed all that. Got my diet in check, started really pushing myself hard, and after a few years of consistent work, I was sporting a good 180 pounds on my 5'9 frame. Not huge, but big. Big and hard. When I'd flex my arms, a solid, veiny orb like a softball would pop up, almost stretching my sleeves to the breaking point. You can bet that I showed those babies off when I went out to the clubs. Kyle, though, Kyle was a mess. My little buddy was only an inch shorter than I was, but he looked like he weighed half what I did. I was surprised when he told me he weighed about a buck thirty. In two years of working out, he'd gained precisely three pounds of muscle. Now, I know what you're thinking. He must have been making some sort of easy-to-fix rookie mistake, right? You'd be wrong. I'd been to his place countless times. His fridge was bursting with chicken breasts, healthy carbs, greens. You'd think he spent all of his time cooking, but that wouldn't have left him much time for the gym. And boy, did he put in his hours there. I'd gone with him a few times. He couldn't lift much, on account of being a twig, but he lifted hard and he never gave up. If I'd had half his dedication during my own transformation, I'd have been an Olympia competitor for sure. Not that I was into that. Hot guys, yes. Posing straps and fake tans, not so much. Anyway, my point is that Kyle was obsessed. He'd tried everything, from supplements to a bad round of steroids that had left him looking like a pimply teenager for a month or two. Then had come reiki, Eastern medicine, hypnosis. None of it had worked, but he kept trying. So it wasn't a huge surprise when he turned up at my place that day with his newest hare- brained scheme. "I've finally got it," he said, pushing past me and plopping down on my couch like he owned it. I didn't bother asking what he'd gotten. He had a little brown bag, the sort that you pack middle school lunches in. From the way he was cradling it in his hands, you'd think it was the fucking Precious. Kyle continued, as I'd expected he would. "So, what if I told you I'd been going about getting big the wrong way this whole time?" He was really cute when he got like this. I'd never tell him that. Beautiful green eyes, sharp features. That curly dark hair. But he wasn't my type. I liked my guys big and aggressive, and Kyle was small and--okay, I guess he could be a bit aggressive, but it was hard to take a guy that skinny seriously. "I'd say you're dumb," I said. "You do all the right stuff." His eyes lit up. "Exactly. I do everything right with my lifting and diet. But I'm like an architect trying to build the Taj Mahal with no marble." "I don't follow." "It's made out of marble. If he'd made it out of adobe, it wouldn't be--" "No, I get the metaphor, dummy, I just don't know what you mean," I said. He set the package down on my coffee table, fingers twitching as if they were loath to part with it. "What I'm saying is that my body's mud. It doesn't have the building blocks I need in order to get big." "Them's genetics," I said, not without sympathy. "I'd help you out if I could." "What a relief! I was hoping you'd say that." Kyle let out a whoosh of breath. Uh oh. "I've tried helping you lift, though, and your form is great. I just don't have that much time to--" He held up a hand. "This won't take any time at all, I promise. Just like a few minutes, if that." I sat down across from him, my skepticism not put off one bit by his promises. It wasn't that I didn't want to help him. I'd supported him over the years, encouraged him in the gym, given him new plans to try. At this point, I knew anything I did was just throwing good effort after bad. "What do you need?" I asked, trying to keep the resignation out of my voice. "I need to borrow a little of your muscle," he said. I blinked. "Borrow?" "Okay, take. But only a few pounds." "Are you feeling all right? I can call 911." "I'm serious." He snatched the bag from the table and pulled out a little test tube. Well, not a test tube. It was more ornate than that. A vial, I guess? Inside was a greyish sludge. It moved sluggishly as Kyle shook the glass container. "What's that?" I asked. "Grade-A weirdass shit," he said. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." "Try me." "So, there was this government test at Camp Pendleton back in the early 2000s, right? And--" "Nope. Stop. You're right. Don't believe you." He blushed. "What matters are the results. This shit changes you inside." "It looks like it's going to give you stomach cancer," I said. "It's not. The guy I got it from is reputable." "So there are reputable dealers of black market government test by- products, now?" He rolled his eyes. "Reputable-ish. Doesn't matter, though. You said you'd help." I sighed. "Help how?" "Like I said, this stuff changes you inside. I drink it. And then I have to... you know, touch you." "If you came over to hook up, you could've just said so," I said, jokingly undoing the knot securing my shorts. Yeah, we'd fucked a few times, but that was a long time ago. It wasn't like that between Kyle and me, really. He kept on going. "I don't know how it works, precisely. The guy who sold it to me had a lot of papers on the mechanics of it, but let's just say it's magic. I touch you, and it transfers some of your muscles to me." "That sounds pretty unbelievable. And kind of ridiculous. I mean, if it were true, no one would be able to have sex with you again, right?" "No, it only lasts for a little while. I checked," he said. He held up the vial to the light. Even when he wasn't moving it, the fluid inside kept moving, as if it was slightly alive. "You're really serious about this, aren't you?" I asked. "Dead serious." "It's not going to work. You know that, right?" "Then you have nothing to lose," he said. "Okay, maybe a few pounds." If there was one thing Kyle could do, it was sell his crazy. For just a moment, I actually considered what would happen if he was right, and the snake oil he was holding actually worked. "How much are you thinking? I just got my bench over 250." He shrugged. "A few pounds? Ten? Would ten be okay?" I considered it. Ten pounds would put him in the range of normal. And I'd still be pretty big. I could gain it back in a couple of months. There was also the fact that there was no way in hell that Kyle's sludge was going to do anything. "Make it fifteen," I said, getting up. Kyle's eyes lit up. "Wow, Mike, you're too generous!" He exploded from the couch and wrapped me in a hug, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Kyle, I don't want you to get your hopes up," I said, extricating myself from the embrace. A shadow of doubt passed over his face, but he forced a smile. "Hey, if it doesn't work, I'm only out ten grand, right?" "Ten grand!? Kyle! You have to return that shit and get your money--" It was too late. In the intervening heartbeats, he had uncapped the vial and taken a swig of its contents. There was not a drop left. "Tastes like shit," he said. "Feels funny." It had looked like shit, too. "You going to throw up?" I asked. His cheeks had a flush to them. It made his eyes seem unnaturally bright, like two cut emeralds. I reached for my cell, considered calling the hospital, just in case he keeled over from whatever he'd just drank. But he didn't look like the stuff was having any ill effects on him yet. "No, funny good. Like warm in my stomach." He let out a soft gasp. "I think I feel it working." "Okay," I said, putting my phone down. "So what do we do now?" Collecting his wits, he focused on me again. "Take your shirt off." I don't know why I went along with it. He probably could have touched me anywhere, like my wrist or my cheek. Without waiting to see if I had obeyed, he started stripping out of his own clothes, first his t-shirt and then his shorts, leaving him standing only in boxer briefs. I followed suit, but left my shorts on. Kyle's body struck me again with how totally unimpressive it was. He wasn't fat, not even skinny fat, but there just wasn't enough muscle tone to justify the hours he spent toiling in the gym. He had a smooth chest, flat as a pancake on both sides, with only the faintest divide to hint at where one pectoral ended and the other began. He had abs, but only the sort that small guys get because they don't have any body fat to hide the muscles. I guess the one thing you could say about Kyle's body was that he had a nice cock. At seven and a half inches, it was nearly as big as mine. Right then, it was tenting out his boxer briefs. "Maybe it's just black market Viagra," I said, flicking his cock gently. He moaned. "Oh, man, don't do that. Whatever it is, it's making me super horny." Seeing him so turned on was having a similar effect on me. My dick started waking up from its nap. I told Ol' One-Eye to go back to sleep, that there was nothing to see here. "So now you touch me?" I asked. My voice was suddenly hoarse. "Yeah," he said. "Like this." Kyle placed both of his hands gently on my chest. His palms were warm and damp, fingers trembling. Heedless of my commands, my dick kept lengthening, spurred on by the intimacy of the situation. I resigned myself to a full on boner. "What now?" I asked. "I think I feel something," he said. "Don't you?" "No, I--" But I did feel something. It was an electric tingle where his skin met mine, not precisely pleasant, but not painful either. As his hands lingered there, it grew in intensity. I felt a heady weariness piling up on me. All my limbs felt heavy, like I had just finished an incredible workout, or maybe like a few days of too little sleep were creeping up on me. I staggered. My arms reached out instinctually and I steadied myself by grabbing Kyle's skinny arms. What I felt made me pause. The electric buzz between us intensified. His biceps were small, but hard under my hands. I could feel the electricity buzzing through them, almost as if it was feeding them. The skin under my fingers shifted slightly, almost as if Kyle was flexing them, but he had barely moved. No, he was not tensing them at all. They were growing. It was a slow transformation. I would have missed it at a casual glance, but my eyes couldn't leave Kyle's swelling arm. It hardened as it grew, going from merely solid to feeling like rock in a matter of moments. Or minutes. I don't know how long I stared. As I watched, Kyle's abs started to reshape themselves. They tightened and drew in, slimming his already-thin waist. Or maybe it was just that his chest and back were growing broader. His lats started to flare out a little. The crease between his pecs deepened as the muscles themselves pushed outward slightly. Man, he was starting to look pretty good. Kyle pulled away. I stumbled, surprised by his sudden movement. At least he'd had the presence of mind. I'd found his transformation, however slight, to be hypnotic. Not to mention fucking hot. "Whoah," I said. "Whoah," said Kyle. He flexed his right arm. It had been a featureless noodle before, but a firm, goose-egg peak popped up. Kyle's fingers explored the hard muscle as if it was the only thing in the universe. I didn't blame him. It was easily thirteen or fourteen inches and shredded to the bone. "Looks good," I said. Kyle glanced up at me. His gaze took me in. His eyes widened. "Oh, shit," he said.
  17. "The Anatomy Lesson"

    “THE ANATOMY LESSON” by LuvsMusl “Brian?” He was surprised to hear Coach Porter calling him from the other end of the locker room. Brian had taken to putting in extra sessions in the weight room after practice. The school’s compact but well equipped gym was usually packed with other kids, football players and wrestlers, mostly, until six o’clock or so. He would take a half hour break after football practice, gulp a mix of high energy carbs and BCAA’s, and then grab an hour or so in the gym by himself, lifting intensely without any distractions. Lifting was his passion, his obsession. He had no particular plans to seriously pursue bodybuilding or any other sport. He just loved the feel of the iron, and seeing himself get stronger week by week, and watching his muscles grow steadily bigger and harder. He looked up and smiled as Porter strolled toward him. “You’re here pretty late, Coach. Prepping for Friday night?” A jayvee game was being played the following evening. “No, just catching up on lesson plans and stuff. That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” Brian shrugged slightly, pantomiming ‘what do you mean?’ “I’m about to do Anatomy with my senior Men’s Health class. Our class, I should say, since you’re in it.” “Okay…” “I was watching you in the weight room earlier…” Brian reddened a little, somewhat disconcerted at the thought that Coach had been secretly spying on him while he trained. “…And I was thinking. What if instead of just using those dumb charts, like every year, I get an actual guy, one of my athletes, to stand in front of the class and model the different joints and muscle groups as I point them out?” “Y’ mean –“ Porter chuckled at the anxious look on Brian’s face. “Yeah, dummy, I mean you. Just look at how well-defined your muscles are. It’ll be much clearer to people what I’m talking about than if I just point at flat diagrams on a chart. Am I right?” Brian went into his own head for a moment. He wasn’t much of an exhibitionist. Of course, it always made him feel good when girls, or other guys, made comments about how great his body looked. But now he pictured himself standing naked, or almost naked, in front of a room full of his classmates and teammates, being made to pose and flex. He couldn’t quite decide whether he hated the idea… or if… Porter decided for him. “Let’s just spend half an hour and see if we can plan it out. Grab a quick shower and then come on back to my office. Just your briefs. We can do a Speedo or something on Monday.” Without giving Brian a chance to answer, the coach turned and strode back toward his office. In the shower Brian thought more about the idea as he soaped himself up and started rinsing off. He was suddenly more focused than normal on his hard-earned eight pack, his thick pecs, his muscled arms and legs… all the while imagining the other guys in class staring at him in astonishment. In envy. Fuck, he suddenly thought. Why am I hard? A little disturbed that the image of himself preening and flexing in front of the twenty other men in his health class turned him on so much, he got to work furiously stroking his meaty cock (“My best body part,” he would joke whenever a girlfriend saw his thick 9.5 inches for the first time.) The giant boner was refusing to cooperate. He had to turn off the shower head and keep grabbing more palmfuls of pink liquid soap. Coach is waiting, he thought. How long have I been in here? Finally, to get the job done, Brian turned his mind back to the image of him flexing his massive physique in front of a roomful of admiring, lesser men. This got him a little closer. To cross the finish line he had to flex his pumped-up left bicep, and stare hard at the thick vein that crossed the deep, perfect separation between the muscle’s two heads. At the same time cranking his swollen tool with the other hand until finally, thankfully, he came, in a series of five emphatic spurts. Red-faced and breathless, he turned on the cold water to rinse his river of cum off the shower tiles, and off where it had splattered back onto his thighs. Porter sat at his desk, nervously laying out his anatomy notes. What’s taking him? “Coach?” He looked up and saw Brian, a little shy in skimpy red briefs, filling his office doorway. Filling was the right word. Dirty blond hair still wet from the shower, the kid, without gym shorts or a tank top interrupting the flow of his physique, looked like a young god. Porter felt something stirring downtown, and reflexively averted his eyes, glancing, for a moment, at the framed photo of his wife and two kids on the desk. “I’m, uh… ready when you are,” Brian mumbled, the hesitation in his voice suggesting otherwise. “Good. Good. We’ll get started in a sec.” Porter stood up, not sure how to begin. He found it literally impossible to avoid staring at the kid’s beautifully symmetrical, exquisitely sculpted body. He’d seen Brian in clothes, or in his football uniform, a thousand times. But seeing him now, like this, he realized that the boy’s perfect proportions disguised the reality of how big and full his muscles actually were. “My God, Brian, you really do have an amazing physique. What are you weighing right now?” “One ninety-seven, Coach,” Brian offered proudly. “My goal is to hit two ten by the end of the school year. Without sacrificing this…” He ran his palm over his flat, shredded midsection. Coach smiled. “A hard two ten, huh? And you’re what? Five eleven?” “Five nine.” Porter let out an impressed whistle. “That’ll be quite an accomplishment. Especially for a 17 year-old.” “I’m 18, actually. I missed a lot of school the year my family moved here, so I repeated fourth grade.” Porter felt himself blushing bright red and it terrified him, sickened him even, that his heart had leapt when he heard that Brian was over 18. What was he thinking? Brian noticed it, too. Was Coach turned on by him? Could Jack Porter, the school’s famously tough, macho, hard ass football coach possibly be aroused by the sight of his shirtless body? Were his muscles that impressive? He had no conscious intention to test this. But, apparently, there was an unconscious urge, because without any thought Brian tensed his pecs and they jumped for a second, ever so subtly, briefly revealing the nice separation between his upper and lower chest, and the deep indentations where the side of his pectoral muscles flowed into his delts. The look that flashed momentarily in Porter’s eyes told Brian everything. Oddly, instead of feeling uncomfortable he found himself growing more relaxed. Fully on purpose this time he lifted his arms and clasped his hands casually behind his head, knowing full well that this would accentuate the V-taper of his torso, bring his obliques into high relief, and flex his biceps into perfect, solid globes beside his head. “Let’s do this,” he said, suddenly sounding like the man in charge. Porter cleared his throat, knowing that if he didn’t his voice would break. “Um… I usually start with the midsection.” Brian moved to lower his hands, but the coach stopped him. “No, keep ‘em like they were, that’s perfect.” Brian interlaced his fingers behind his head again, this time tensing his body so that everything popped. “Yes, yes, that’s good,” Porter said, his words colored with way more excitement than he’d intended to convey. “I won’t do my whole spiel. But I’ll start by talking about your... your… uh… rectus abdominus… upper obliques… serratus anterior…” As he listed the muscles Porter’s hands moved over Brian’s body, gently at first, outlining each muscle as he named it, then pointing out all the individual examples of that type. “Very impressive, Brian,” he said, unable to stop himself from commenting. “Looks like every muscle in your body is perfectly developed.” “Thanks, I work hard at it.” Throughout the process Brian had kept watching the coach’s face, his eyes, enjoying the extreme reaction his physique was causing in the older man. It wasn’t clear whether Porter noticed his own breathing getting heavier, or his fingers spending more and more time on each of the muscles he enumerated… stroking and feeling its density, its elegant shape, its meaty perfection. But Brian noticed, and it thrilled him to his core. I fucking own this guy, he thought. I bet I could get him to do anything. As if sensing Brian’s thoughts the coach’s voice got a little soft and dreamy as he continued his exploration: “External intercostals. Beautiful.” He forgot to talk for the next minute or so as his hands continued wandering, tracing the transversus abdominus -- the muscular V that framed Brian’s lower abs -- and finally rested, once again, in the middle of the boy’s phenomenal, marble sculpture of a stomach. “Punch me,” Brian said. “What?” “Hit me, Coach, with your closed fist, as hard as you can.” Porter chuckled nervously. “I boxed in college, Brian. I had twenty-two amateur fights, I won most of them. Trust me, you don’t want me to hit you.” “If you want to touch any more of my muscles you’ll do it. And not a love tap, either. I want you to pull back and slam me with 100% of your full strength.” The coach was incredibly aroused by Brian’s confidence. And he craved seeing just how strong, how rock solid the kid’s magnificent eight pack was. He set his stance for maximum leverage, pulled his big fist back, and torqued his entire, solid 230 pounds toward Brian’s midsection. The 18 year-old didn’t budge, not a centimeter, didn’t register the blow at all, as Porter’s fist connected with the cinder-block wall that was his midsection. “Fuck!” Coach shouted in pain and pulled his arm back, moving his fingers to see whether any of the bones in his hand had cracked or even broken. Brian laughed, reveling more and more in his newfound power. “Pretty fucking hard, right? Tell the truth. You’ve never anyone with a body like this, let alone a kid.” He put his hands on his 28 inch waist and flared his lats, creating a mind-blowing V in a move that also showcased his spectacular, pumped-up delts, biceps, triceps, pecs… and of course that stone wall of a stomach. The coach was momentarily speechless. “N… No, Sir.” The ‘Sir’ surprised Brian. But no less than it shocked Porter, who had no idea why it had come out of his mouth. Well, he had some idea. Emboldened, Brian bent his right arm under his chin and flexed it, causing a diamond hard, perfectly shaped bicep peak to rise like a steely half moon above his brachialis. “Hey, Coach,” he teased. “Feel that shit. You know you want to.” Coach put his still-aching hand on the boy’s bicep and squeezed it, flushing with delight at how insanely hard and ungiving it was. He might as well have been squeezing a cue ball or a trailer hitch. “Go ahead, kiss it if you want. Put it in your mouth.” Porter met the boy’s gleaming eyes, which showed just how much Brian was getting off on teasing and dominating him. He leaned forward and kissed the stunningly perfect bicep as Brian flexed it again, making it even harder. Porter put his mouth around the granite sphere and sucked it as if it were a thick, juicy cock, slurping and moaning in delight. He would have gone on forever if Brian hadn’t finally stopped him, pushing the coach’s head away, disappointment and frustration darkening the older man’s face. “You like that, don’t you,” Brian teased, now “popping” the beautiful peak, making it jump, over and over, from flaccid to granite hard, a perfectly shaped beef balloon bouncing and swelling. “Boom! Boom! Boom!” “I like it very much, Sir.” “I’m a thousand times the man you’ll ever be. You know that, don’t you? And I’m still in fucking high school.” Brian was on auto-pilot now, improvising, riding his muscle bronco for all it was worth. “Yes, Brian. I mean, yes, Sir. It’s true.” “Fucking right it’s true. You’re hardly a man at all, compared to me. More like a worm. An insect. Next to this you’re nothing.“ He hit a tight most-muscular pose and his 18 year-old body congealed into an edifice of powerful, carved-up beef, veins like quarter-inch pipes throbbing in his thick neck, his brutal shoulders, his ungodly muscular arms. As the boy held the pose, twisting slightly left and right to deliver the full measure of his intimidating virility, Porter couldn’t keep himself from reaching down and stroking the excited thing that was growing inside his gym shorts. Seeing this, Brian stopped flexing, pushed the coach’s hand aside and grabbed hold of the man’s hard cock through his pants. “Is that what my big muscles do to you?” He squeezed Porter’s dick a little harder. “Yes, Sir. I love your big muscles. I live for your muscles.” Brian grinned, still not letting go. “Does it ever get this hard for Mrs. Porter?” He tightened his grip even more, staring into the coach’s eyes, grinning with amused contempt, a bald challenge. A surge of fury formed in the older man’s gut and rose to his throat, an instinctive reaction to his pupil’s brazen disrespect. But before Coach could act on this Brian lifted his callused palm to the coach’s cheek and gave it a patronizing pat. “It’s okay, Jack. My body has reduced better men than you to complete submission. Much better men.” Porter’s anger instantly shrank to a tiny pebble, washed away in the tidal wave of the muscleboy’s cockiness, his effortless dominance. A wet spot of pre-cum had started growing on the front of the coach’s pants. “Okay, let’s finish the lesson. I’ll flex my big teenage muscles and you tell my homies what they’re looking at.” Brian turned his back on Porter and unpacked a masterful rear biceps shot, a sweeping landscape of sculpted flesh that caused the coach to grab his desk for support. The boy reached his hands up and pulled his back into a tighter version of the pose, forcing even deeper valleys in the mountain range of thick muscle: “I’m waiting.” “Sorry, Sir. I’m sorry…” He had to catch his breath before he could start. “Well, um… those are your… your...” “Yeah, yeah, my fucking traps. My fucking lats. My beautiful fucking rhomboids. You’re boring me.” “But –“ “Shut up, worm. What about my glutes? …Are we going to talk about my glutes, Coach?” Without turning back around Brian pulled his briefs down and kicked them out of the way. Porter found himself staring at the most staggeringly beautiful 18 year-old muscle ass in the history of human asses. His knees buckled and he was on the floor, reduced to servitude by the sheer force of youthful male perfection that loomed in front of him. Brian clenched his curvaceous onion and it consolidated into a rock hard matrix of gluteal magnificence – deep grooves and solid ridges striping his shapely butt like the protective armor of some prehistoric creature. Coach made a little noise, from deep in his throat, like the cry of a dying loon. And then he lunged forward, propelling his face toward the tawny curve, the shadowy crescent that promised the fulfillment of his darkest, most joyful and secret dreams. But before Porter’s tongue could find its target Brian pivoted around and whacked Coach in the jaw with his massive billy club of an erect cock. When the older man recovered Brian grinned and wagged his big piece in Coach’s face, making it bounce with pure muscle control, which left his hands free to stroke his abs seductively. “It’s quite a bit bigger than yours, Jack. I guess that’s no surprise.” “No, Sir.” “Maybe if you’re a good boy I’ll let you suck this muscle cock.” “I’ll be a good boy, Sir. I promise.” “Who owns you, little man?” “You do, Sir.” Coach jerked a little, he was starting to cum in spite of himself. “Who’s your muscle master?” “You are!” “Who?” “You, Sir! Brian! Brian Hansen!” Brian laughed and shoved his battering ram of a tool into Coach’s mouth. He grabbed the back of Porter’s head and slammed it repeatedly against his own hard abs, rhythmically fucking the older man’s face as Porter gagged and choked in delirious ecstasy… holding on for dear life to the teen muscleman’s flaring vastus lateralis. With each hard thrust Brian yelled out a command: “Take that teenage cock! Eat that nasty dick muscle! Brian Hansen is God! Brian’s muscles rule your worthless life.” Coach gargled a worshipful assent, somehow forcing it past the wide pillar of cock that filled his throat. Suddenly Brian pulled out, stepping back and stroking his swollen red erection, which was still slick with the coach’s saliva. “You want some of this hot muscleboy cum?” “Yes, Sir!” “How bad do you want it?” “More than anything! A million times more than anything I’ve ever wanted!” “Then work for it. Talk about my muscles.” Brian continued massaging his engorged cock, no longer looking at Coach but instead giving full attention to his raging boner as Porter clamored to gather his thoughts and began talking: “You’re the king of muscle. You’re a boy with the body of a god. Your biceps are giant mountains of male power. Your body is the Master of all men. Every time you flex your giant muscles it’s like you’re fucking my brain, my heart, my soul. Fuck me, Muscle God! Fuck me with your big, powerful, fucking muscles!” Brian was getting closer. “Don’t stop! Grab hold of my balls.” The coach happily did what he was told. “I want your muscles, Brian. I love your muscles. Your muscles own me. I’m a lowly slave to your giant teenage muscles.” Brian was now really close. “Whose teenage muscles?” “Your teen age muscles! Muscle God Brian’s fucking powerful, godlike teenage muscles!” About to cum, Brian shoved the coach aside and continued the chant himself, crying out triumphantly with each stroke of his truly magnificent cock: “My muscles!... My muscles!... “Brian’s!... “Fucking!...Powerful!”... “Godlike!”….”MUSCLES!” And with that he shot, his 18 year-old firehose spewing thick muscleboy cum on the coach’s face, in his cum-hungry mouth, on his shirt, across the desk, drowning the anatomy notes in a huge pool of hot, creamy spooj. For a long moment they just sat there, man and boy (though it’s not entirely clear which was which), physically and emotionally spent. After a while Porter grabbed a gym towel and wiped the cum off his face. He smiled, shyly. “Thank you, Brian. I really mean it.” Brian shrugged. “No worries.” He stood up and noticed that his dick, still semi-erect, was continuing to drip cum on the coach’s carpet. Porter saw it, also. “Don’t bother about that. I’ll have the cleaning crew come in and spruce this place up on Saturday. Or maybe I’ll have the jayvee squad do it.” He chuckled at his own joke. “I guess I better go shower.” Porter looked up at the kid, who was more pumped and shredded than ever after the intense flexing session. Mother of Christ, he thought. That boy truly is a god. “Oh, Coach, one more thing. Could you maybe write me a pass to get out of fifth period on Monday? That way I can come here and pump up before Health class.” Porter grabbed his pad and scrawled out the note. He presented it to Brian, noticing the way the kid’s triceps flared into a huge, striated horseshoe as he leaned on the desk to take it from his hand.” “Thanks.” He flashed Porter a dazzling, toothy grin. “I can’t wait for Monday.” “Neither can I.” “And don’t worry, Coach. I won’t tell anyone you’re a fag.” He winked playfully and swaggered out of the office. His dimpled glutes seemed to mock Porter as they bounced and flexed into the darknesss of the locker room.
  18. Muscle Memory by LuvsMusl

    MUSCLE MEMORY By LuvsMusl Cody was in rough shape when I picked him up from the hospital. For ten weeks he had been flat on his back, battling a nasty infection. Between the ravages of being sick, and his utter lack of appetite, he had lost at least 60 pounds off his once athletic, solid frame. In short, he was a wreck. He could move only very slowly, one labored step at a time, as I helped him to my car. During the 50 yard journey he needed to stop twice and take a minute or two to rest. But at least now the infection had been knocked back and he had been cleared to come home. I was every bit as happy as my roommate that now he could start moving a little more, rehabbing, and getting back to his old, healthy self. I won’t lie, I love the kid, and we’ve been friends for six years and roommates for two. It killed me to see him like that, and it was a huge relief that he was finally out of the woods. There was still one hurdle to jump, however. The infection had apparently crossed the blood-brain barrier, and his mind and memory were pretty dicey. The doctor was optimistic, but couldn’t guarantee that Cody would get his full mental agility back. For now, he was pretty good at recognizing and understanding whatever was right in front of him. He remembered my car, and knew the route home, and was instantly familiar with our apartment. But almost everything that happened before he got sick was kind of a blurry haze. He’d get a vague memory of something, and he’d say “Did we go to Clairmont together?” Or, “Do I know someone named Christine?” It was unsettling, to say the least. We got home, and as I was helping him to his bedroom Cody put a bony hand around my arm and squeezed my bicep. “Look at you,” he laughed. “Mr. Buff.” Then, sadly, “And then there’s me.” “A month or two and that won’t be a problem,” I told him. “Some healthy eating, maybe a slow reintroduction to the gym, and you’ll be a stud again. Dude, you’ve always been considerably bigger and harder than me.” “Was I?” He clearly had no memory of it, and seemed pretty skeptical. “It’s true. You’ve always been jacked, and you’re crazy good looking. No homo, but in shape you’re a muscular love god. Girls walk into traffic staring at you.” He laughed, still not quite buying it. “Okay, Mike, I’ll take your word for it. But you’ll be my motivation. Cause compared to me you look like fucking Hercules. No homo.” First day back at the gym was a little unnerving. It was like he’d never been there before, and had to be led to the locker room and then pointed to each training room or piece of equipment where we both had clocked hundreds of hours. The great thing, though, was that a dozen of our gym buddies stopped by at one point or another, to high-five Cody, tell him they’d missed him, and offer sincere encouragement. He clearly remembered and recognized a few of them. But with most of them he just played along, accepting their delighted back slaps and fist bumps, while shooting me a look of complete cluelessness. “I sure have some big-ass friends,” he whispered. “You do,” I told him. “But, trust me. In no time flat you’ll fit right in again. It’s called muscle memory.” To be honest, I thought maybe my words were a little too optimistic. On doctor’s orders, Cody took it slow and easy that first day. Light weights, not too many sets or reps. But he was definitely enjoying himself. He was like a caged up animal that is suddenly released back into its natural habitat. And at the end of the workout, damned if he didn’t have a nice little pump going. Miraculously, in three weeks Cody’s body was pretty close to what it had been before he got sick. He obviously had amazing powers of recovery. All of our friends were blown away, and people – inside the gym and everywhere else – couldn’t stop complimenting him on his remarkable comeback. In the locker room, as we showered and dressed, he couldn’t help hitting a proud double biceps pose in front of the mirror. “Is this pretty much how you remember me looking?” he asked. “Dude, you’re a tick away from your all-time best shape. Maybe even more shredded, since you dropped all that bodyfat while you were sick.” “You know, you were right. I am bigger and harder than you. Feel that.” He moved his perfectly shaped, baseball bicep in front of my face. “You’re kidding, right? I didn’t think we were those guys. Those ‘bro’, feel my bicep’ guys.” He laughed. But he didn’t move his arm away. Instead he flexed it a few times to pump some more blood into the two bulging heads, and, with a smile in his voice, challenged me again. “Bro’. Just fuckin’ feel it.” I did what he said. It was hard. A little disturbingly, so was I. I was switched to the night shift for the next couple of weeks, so I didn’t see much of Cody for the rest of the month. We texted back and forth, like always, and occasionally left smartass notes for each other on the fridge. “Hey, loverboy, pick up some laundry detergent,” stuff like that. Finally it worked out that we could spend part of a day together, so we made a date for the gym. On my drive there I realized that except for a glimpse or two of him bundled up among the twisted sheets and pillows on his bed I hadn’t laid eyes on my roommate for at least three weeks. I didn’t spot him on the gym floor. Glad that I wasn’t too horribly late I hustled to the locker room. No sign of him in there, either. Just some massive guy with his huge back to me, changing into his gym clothes. When he bent over to stuff his bag into a bottom locker his thick, perfect lats flared into a giant V the width of a Buick. And that beefy, solid, sculpted bodybuilder ass… Jesus! Let’s just say for a few seconds I not only forgot all about Cody, I forgot what year it was, I forgot my own name. The guy obviously felt me staring, and turned toward me as he scrunched up his tee shirt, getting ready to pull it over the mountains of beef that were pretending to be his shoulders. “Mike! You’re late.” …I think it’s called a fugue state. That thing where your mind and senses just go completely blank because they can’t process reality. I don’t know if I stood there gaping for twenty seconds or twenty minutes. But my next memory was Cody’s handsome face, blue eyes twinkling like in the best of times, breaking into a playful, welcoming smile. Instead of pulling the tee shirt on he straightened his back and tensed his…his muscles. I mean his MUSCLES. Brick wall, razor cut, vascular as hell, stacked and jacked, boner-inducing M… There was sweat running down the crack of my ass. “Dude, tell me the truth,” he said. We haven’t really seen each other for a couple weeks. Can you tell I got bigger? “Cody, are you kidding me? You’re fucking massive! How did you do this? You’re a monster! You look like you’ve put on thirty pounds, and you’re still ripped to the bone!” “I’m up fifty,” he said. “It’s funny. But I think my memory’s coming back. I started remembering what I looked like, and it’s like my body just began falling in line with it. Like you said, muscle memory.” He turned toward the mirror, grabbed one hand with the other, and flexed into a side chest shot. His pecs seemed to triple in size as they ballooned into granite-hard wedges of sheer muscle mass, giant domes of hard beef criss-crossed with rows of deep striations. He flexed a little harder and his upper chest got even bigger, swelling up to a few inches below his chin. It was mind blowing. “So is this how big you remember me?” he asked. “Dude. Stop playing with my head. You’ve never been this huge. I’m not sure anyone has, at least no one around here. You’re, like, fifty pounds more muscular than sophomore year, remember? When we both did that juice cycle and ate like 9,000 calories a day.” “Aw, Mike. That’s why you’re my friend. You always have something nice to say.” He held the pose a little longer, appraising himself in the mirror. “Actually, I‘m remembering that I was a little bigger than this. Maybe even a lot bigger.” He slapped his chiseled midsection and pulled on the shirt. “Let’s hit the weights.” I’ve never trained harder in my life. Cody kept slapping plates onto the bar till we hit our normal max for each exercise, and then he’d drive me through a couple more sets, spotting me as lightly as he could as I grunted and strained to move more weight than I ever had. He was moving like a demon, no rest between sets, yelling out “Come on! This isn’t nap time!” if I tried to pause a moment. By the end of each movement my muscles were burning and quivering, and more than a few times I felt like I might heave. Thankfully, I got a break at the end of each exercise as Cody did an additional two brutal sets without me, usually maxing out at twice the highest weight we’d lifted together. At the end of our workout I could barely stand up. We grabbed our stuff and this time Cody had to help me to the car, more or less carrying me on the couple of occasions I started to lag. “Great workout,” he said as he poured me into the passenger seat. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” As he drove us home I very quickly began to nod out, as the blood drained from my head and rushed into my traumatized muscle fibers. And other places. The last thing I remember was glancing over at Cody as he drove, and wondering if I was hallucinating or if that ungodly huge thing hanging from the steering wheel, that veiny globe of meat that looked like a python digesting a hippo, really was his right arm. I came to on our battered sofa in the living room. Cody, in his briefs, handed me a shake. “Drink,” he said. “Carbs and protein, good stuff.” As I sipped my shake he chugged his. “Bro’, that was kickass. Insane pump, right?” He flipped on a light and strode to the middle of the room. Glancing in the little mirror over our dinette table, he started moving fluidly through a series of bodybuilding poses, watching his chest, his arms, his back, his shoulders as he kept flexing, ridges and striations looking sharper and sharper as he forced even more blood into his engorged muscles. “Mike, check it out,” he said. “Like Arnold in ‘Pumping Iron.’” He caught my eye as I stared in amazement. “It can’t be possible. But I swear you look twenty pounds bigger than when we left the gym,” I said. “Y’know, I think I do. I keep remembering, more and more, how I used to look, and I think my body is gradually getting there.” “Getting there? You’re there, bud, you’re miles past there. I think that virus did something crazy to your self-perception.” He looked at me in a strange way. As if taking me in for the first time. “Look at you,” he grinned, “sitting there all stiff and formal. The workout’s over, we’re home, get comfortable, kick back.” Before I could stop him he was playfully pulling my shoes and socks off, and then my gym shorts and my shirt. I tried to resist, giggling nervously like a teenaged girl, but he was just too strong. Pushing back against his powerful arms I felt like a little boy trying to fend off a grown man. When at last he’d stripped me to my bikini briefs I quickly grabbed a pillow to hide what was happening in my lap. Cody darted to his gym bag and fished around inside it for something. “I brought us a little present,” he said, and pulled a thick, expertly rolled joint from the bag. “Weed? Where did you get that?” “Oh, some girl at the gym gave it to me. And also her phone number.” “What girl?” “Kathy?... Cassie?... I don’t remember. Apparently I fucked her once.” “Apparently she liked it.” “Hey,” he said. “Here’s something else I remembered. That I could do this.” He came closer to me, jiggled his relaxed quad, then clenched it into a hard flex. Sweeping canyons and ridges of human rock exploded into enormous, sculpted columns. I gasped a little, then quickly looked up to see if he had clocked my reaction. His face was covered with a shit eating grin. I’m pretty sure he was teasing me. “For a while I forgot I had these ridonkulous wheels. And calves.” He turned, lowered his marble ass toward the floor, and flexed his calf. Two torpedos of fierce-looking muscle bulged side by side beneath the crook of his knee. “Wanna feel ‘em?” “I’m okay,” I mumbled, clutching the pillow tighter to my lap. “Why don’t we fire that thing up?” “Great idea.” He took a wooden match from a cup on the table, struck it with his thumb nail and lit the joint. He sucked in a prodigious toke, chest swelling as he filled his lungs. Then he sat beside me on the couch and handed me the blunt. As I took a hit I saw him staring down at his midsection. It was insanely beautiful. Perfect rows of hard symmetrical abs framed by the thick fingers of his upper obliques and the powerful V of his transversus abdominis, its two muscular branches converging on either side of his elegant, tawny pleasure trail. All of it pointing downward, down below the waistband of his briefs, down toward the inviting bulge straining against the cotton. Cody and I, both thoroughly baked, sat in silence a moment, staring at the pretty pattern made by those perfect muscles of his lower torso. After a moment Cody spoke. “Do me a favor, Mike. Run your fingers along the ridges between my abs. You know, like you used to do. Checking out how deep they are.” I didn’t honestly remember ever doing that. But I was really high, so I didn’t question it. I gently led my index finger up and down the valleys between his cobblestone abs, enjoying the feel, and the sight, of my digit disappearing to the second knuckle between those hillocks of muscle. After a minute Cody put his thick hand over mine, stopping me. But still clutching my fingers against his hard gut. “Do you know what else I remember?” he asked, pausing for effect. “I remember how sometimes we’d get a good buzz on after our workout and then you’d go crazy sucking my cock.” I started pulling my hand away. Pretty sure this was something I did not remember. “Okay, Cody, stop fucking around,” I said. “That, just now, was definitely not cool.” He continued to hold my hand in his powerful grip. There was nothing I could do about it. “No, really, Mike, this is something I completely remember. And I’m pretty sure you do, too.” “Well, you’re wrong,” I said. At which point he let go of my hand, reached over and pulled the pillow away from my lap, letting my hard, and by now throbbing cock surge upright, breaching the top of my bikini briefs like a big, happy whale rising through the surface of the Pacific. “See, you do remember,” he said. And then Cody kicked off his briefs, and gently but powerfully guided my head to his beautiful cock. I took it in my mouth and something inexplicable happened. Even though I had never done this before, or anything close to it, I actually did seem to remember. Or maybe it was the dope. In any case, it was clear that whatever I was “remembering” was working really well for Cody. And his deep grunts and groans of pleasure helped me remember better and better. A few seconds before he was about to cum Cody pulled his muscle cock out of my mouth and we both sat back and stroked off together, finishing, perfectly in unison, with an eruption of glistening joy juice that rivaled the dancing waters in Las Vegas. After a moment of blissful, breathless stillness, we toweled off and Cody helped me off the couch and guided me toward the bathroom. Standing behind him in the cramped shower stall under a stream of soothing water, I massaged soap onto his wide, muscled back. Euphorically exploring the thick hardness of his traps, his rear delts, the dense, rigid columns of his erector spinalis. My hands now had a mind of their own, and quickly skated down his smooth skin to the solid, triumphant curves of his magnificent ass. It was the Chartres Cathedral of asses, the Parthenon, the Taj Mahal of perfect, sculpted bubble butts. As my fingers slipped through the entrance, soaping him up between his glorious buttocks, my cock suddenly was rock hard again. Poking, without my help, into the soapy pathway I had just created. “You know what?” I said. “I just remembered something else. Do you remember how, sometimes after our workouts, we would shower together and I would fuck you senseless with my big, thick, pile-driver cock?” There was a moment of silence as he considered this. “I’m not sure I do remember,” he said. “Remind me.”
  19. Antialpha Part 2

    Antialpha Part 2 By F_R_Eaky Part 1: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2656-antialpha/ Bo wasn't sure how long he stayed in the shower. He knew it was way too long as he was shivering and nearly freezing cold when he stepped out and he had it on almost nothing but hot water. Shakily he toweled himself dry, grabbed something to eat and then changed the bed sheets, crawling back in and under the covers to warm himself up and ponder what was happening. He couldn't help but think about it. There, nude and moving around, his now enormous cock swung like a clock pendulum between his legs. It was so long and thick it pulled on his groin just hanging there, let alone when he walked causing it to sway. Worse yet, his ball were now just as huge comparatively, thick, meaty, heavy, and they pulled on the underside of his groin causing a sensation that was driving him insane, making him horny with every step he took. Once that kicked in he started to get semi-erect which then only added to the length and the girth and thus the weight and the pull on his groin. "What the fuck do I do?" Bo wondered as he attempted to assume a fetal position in his bed, but even that was difficult because of the epic equine like cock and balls he now possessed. Back and forth his mind wondered... "Am I still a twink with this endowment?..." "Yeah...twink are described because of body type right?" "I'm still very small and extremely thin, slight bubble butt, smooth all over..." "But do men who like twinks want one that is hung like an horse? a bull? an elephant?" "What will they say when they get me aroused and discover I'm bigger than them? Far bigger than them." Bo stayed that way for a couple of hours, trying to figure out what to do. It was alright for him to lie there as his schedule was free and he had made being a twink his living, so there was no job, no boss, other than himself and his ass. He had more than enough in gifts and money stashed away to keep him set up for quite a while. Finally as he noticed the hues of the setting sun blending into the wall, filtering through the curtains and blinds, he decided he would have to face reality and test the market as a new man... "It's not like I can have plastic surgery and have part of it removed right?" Bo felt his cock recede just a bit at the thought of someone taking a scalpel and removing a section of it. He could tell it was just one of those bodily knee jerk reactions of the penis, like when men see someone kicked in the groin or step into an ice bath in movies and on TV. He secretly wished though that the shrinkage was permanent and he could then just think thoughts of being dissected until his cock shrunk back to its four inches in length erect. But, as that wasn't happening, he decided to get up and get out. It was Thursday night and that meant the weekend was starting for some guys and there would definitely be someone out there looking for some action and a fine piece of boi-toy ass with which to do it. Gayvers.... that's where he'd head out to tonight - the gay ravers club. Pulling out electric blue sneakers, a hot pink tank top, and a pair of black pants with hot pink triangles all over them, he slowly stepped into them after putting on an electric blue thong. He stood back after putting on the thong and wondered if the pouch looked too obscene, too huge? "Of course it looks obscene." He thought to himself. "I'm a man who's not even five feet tall and I have almost a foot and half long cock when erect. Can't ball up something that's damn near a third leg on me and not have it look obscene. If I pushed that pouch up towards my stomach, I'd look pregnant!" Adjusting himself several times positioning the pouch one side to the other, up high, or up low, or snaking the cock down his pants leg, he finally decided that snaking the cock down the pants leg was the best option as even in the cargo style pants he would wear, it looked far too much like he was sneaking in a toy Chihuahua or something with his meat all balled up in a package. Then a thought struck him..."What happens if some guy really turns me on? My member hangs down to my knees. I can't have a wet spot suddenly forming around me knee caps, even if the club is dark and only lit by strobe and neon lights. Deciding to wear a regular latex condom on the tip of his cock, he realized how much his life would change as even in its flaccid state, his cock was too big for the condoms he usually wore. As the protective sheaths kept ripping and busting on even his flaccid prick, he finally got a small zip lock baggie and placed it over the head of his cock securing it with a hair bungee behind the helmet. The problem of his package taken care of, Bo put on the rest of his clothes and then grabbed the proper accessories, electric blue fringe and glow sticks that hung about on this clip and that on his cargo pants, as well as several wrist bands and necklaces that had the pink and blue neon coloring. He stepped out of his apartment building and into the night, walking towards a monorail station realizing he needed to adjust his gate and step as he did so. The smallness of the thong versus the size and weight of his balls had them cascading over either side, giving him a sense of freeballing, and his cock pulling off down one pant leg did nothing to help keep the thong secured over his left testicle. The rubbing of his pants against his cock, even worse the movement near the knee, making the cargo pants rub against his cock head, was creating such strong sensations for him, he nearly stumbled a few times from some of the graceful grazings, the beautiful brushes, the tantalizing touches on his prick head. He had never known himself to be so thankful as to be able to sit down like he was when get got into the monorail. "If that is arousing me so much as I'm walking, how the fuck am I going to be able to dance?" Bo thought to himself. At the club, Bo hit the dance floor and the drinks hard, hoping to clear his mind and have a good night. He was a favorite out on the dance floor. Although he had to adjust a little bit due to the anaconda down his pants, he could still move just as he usually did, popping and rocking, sliding and ducking here and there, under some men's legs, around everyone on the dance floor, a blur of motion. The men who liked to feel big or even gigantic, were still attracted to him and hit on him left and right. Picking him up with easy, many grabbing his ass, treating him like a doll, a kid, kissing him on the neck, kissing him on the cheek, full blown kisses on the lips, and of course, dancing close to him and then turning so his face was a close as possible to their crotches. Bo was having a blast and he closed the place down. He wasn't to be alone however. Bo had found himself a date for the evening, Jessie. He was a tall man of about 6' 3", slender, but could pack on some size if he wanted, very broad shoulders even without any muscle mass, thick brown hair, very light hazel eyes, and a really cut smile. Jessie had bought most of the drinks for Bo that evening, and had even tipped Bo to dance with him several times that evening, tipping one-hundred dollars each time. He made a generous offer approaching Bo in the bathroom, pulling on Bo's waist band and depositing a roll of hundreds down Bo's pants and into his thong. His eyes got real big when he felt Bo's package. "Whoa! Dude...do you have room for this roll down there? Shorty is packing really long it seems." Bo ran a hand up Jessie's shirt and stroked it across Jessie's chest. "Well, if you're topping you won't have to look at it too much or at all, and you're still the bigger man by far...so tall and so broad. It won't matter my daddy was a horse will it?" Jessie, pulled Bo in by grabbing Bo's buttocks and giving them a full squeeze, and then planting a deep long kiss, with full tonsil check, before replying, "Not at all... if you're hole is as deep as your cock is long, we'll have a grand old time tonight and sleep it off in the morning." Bo giggled and grabbed Jessie's waist band leading them out back to where Jessie's car was. As Jessie and Bo faced the passenger side door so Jessie could unlock it and Bo get in, they suddenly heard a voice from behind them. "I'm sorry, sir, but this cum rag already has a date for this evening. You will have to meet accommodations elsewhere." The two men turned around and Jessie stood up to his full height. "Excuse me?" "Going to be difficult and take the high road are we?" And suddenly the man swung his foot, kicking Jessie in the nuts. "What the fuck are you doing?" screamed Bo, and tried to punch and kick the gentleman in front of them. Shoving Bo away and to the ground, the man pulled out what looked like a small billy club and cracked it over the head of Jessie and he went down instantly. The man searching picked up Jessie's keys off the ground, opened the driver's side door and put the seat all the way back and down and then placed Jessie there. Other men had arrived and were holding Bo both at his arms and his mouth keeping him still and quiet. Once Jessie was laying, alive but unconscious in his car, the man put the car keys in Jessie's pocket, locked the doors and then shut the driver's side door. He then turned and faced Bo. "Right then... we're going to take a little ride. You made a bad call last night, little man. You pissed off Chaz Donatelli... and people don't piss off Chaz Donatelli. He's not sure what you did to him last night, but he's going to have his way with you like he wanted and he'll get it this evening." The three men escorted Bo to another car, got him into the back seat with the two other gentlemen sitting beside him while the third who spoke to him got up front to drive. He sped out of the parking lot of Gayvers Club and into the night down the highway. Bo had no idea what to do. His heart was racing, pounding, and felt like it had moved up into the middle of his throat. He couldn't breathe, he was going to pass out, or his blood vessels were surely going to explode. But suddenly he felt that weird sensation again, as if he was being pinched on the arms. Both arms. On his forearms to be exact and as his eyes rolled in the back of his head, it felt as though once again some small spot on his body, from the forearms this time, stretched out in some kind of line and made contact. On strand went to the gentleman on his right and made contact with his hand. The other strand made two lines, one that connected with guy on Bo's left - with his hand, while the second stretch up and made contact with the driver's neck. All men began to groan and moan, while wincing as if they were in some kind of pain. The driver suddenly tensed and flinched, his head jerking back, his legs slamming forward. The car began to accelerate to an alarming speed, while the driver attempted to keep steering to control the car, but his arms were firmly locked in convulsive like spasms. Eventually hitting an area where the road curved, the car not being guided to make the turn, hit the curb hard, causing it to launch into the air and even to turn. The car made a sickening thud on its roof onto the ground skidding across a gardened area and then back onto and partially across a parking lot. The men dazed battered and bruised lay there moaning, crying, bleeding. Bo was laying on the ceiling of the car, shaking, feeling a warm sensation across his left knee area; he was hoping he didn't feel wet or steamy near his butt right now too. Cutting himself slightly on some of the broken glass, he pushed and crawled his small body along the ceiling to the side windows of the car and crawled out. In he didn't see any one standing nearby, but could in the distance hear a growing murmur of people coming out of hotel and apartment balconies looking to see what the noise was about. He also heard the distant sounds of sirens that were coming closer. Walking at first, he began to head for a hedgerow, but upon feeling that his limbs were good and still intact, made a run for it. Practically diving into the hedges, he crawled and walked along those until he was at the edge of the property and then found his way into other hedges, alleyways, and places his small body could maneuver and hide in to get himself to a monorail station. Once there he road one to get back to his apartment. Ducking past the doorman as best he could, he made it to the elevator and pressed the button for his floor. Bo was seeing stars. Between the being flipped and bounced in the back seat of the crashing car, the crawling and running, he had been racking his balls and cock but good. The spots in front of his eyes becoming so many and so large, he wasn't sure he was going to make it inside. Once inside his apartment, he bolted and chained the door, plus moved a small table in front of it. He then turned to walk towards the master bath in his bed room, taking off this band, that necklace, this fringe, that glow stick along the way creating a full blown trail from front door to bed room. In the bathroom he filled a glass with water, reached up to his medicine cabinet and pulled down a bottle of aspirin and swallowed a couple. The then washed off his hands, took a wash cloth and wiped down his arms, neck, and face, then shook his head and tussled his hair over the sink to get rid of any loose glass that might be caught in the strands. Stumbling his way to his bed he then collapsed up on it. THUMP! THUMP! Bo awoke in the late morning this time.... THUMP! THUMP! There was that sound again! THUMP! THUMP! His heart began to race in fear, thinking it might be Donatelli's men breaking down the door, but then he recalled that sound... that feeling.... the rhythm. THUMP! THUMP! It was his heart beating... "Oh no" he thought. "My cock is going to grow again! I'll become a freak! The man with three legs" THUMP! THUMP! But this time he began to feel pressure on his feet. THUMP! THUMP! More pressure... tight pressure, as though his feet were in way to small of shoes. THUMP! THUMP! The nearly microscopic sounds of small...rips...tears...one....one two... one two three... four...five six seven eight... rip tear...split rip.... THUMP! THUMP! His feet were beginning to feel relief. THUMP! THUMP! His feet were beginning to feel....air.... "Wait a minute, didn't I fall asleep with my shoes on?" THUMP! THUMP! But then he began to feel like his clothes were moving. THUMP! THUMP! His ankles felt exposed. His upper arms began to feel free but his shoulder began to felt constrained. THUMP! THUMP! The fabric of his shirt began to feel tight across his chest. THUMP! THUMP! It was tight across his back. THUMP! THUMP! His upper arms were leaving the sleeves behind and they were getting tight across his shoulders. THUMP! THUMP! Higher and higher his pants legs were rising above his ankles. THUMP! THUMP! His waist band began to get a little tight. THUMP! THUMP! More ripping and tearing was begin heard and he suddenly felt the breeze kiss his arm pits. THUMP! THUMP! More rips heard closer to his hears, his shoulders began to breath air. THUMP! THUMP! His whole body seemed to be stretching, reaching, striving for something. THUMP! THUMP! Now his body seemed to slow down, but he could still feel this tremendous amount of heat...of paint... of strength... THUMP! THUMP! Staring down at himself, he felt this sensation of something gliding, slithering around his hands. Looking down to his left hand he suddenly saw a ling pop up and it began to glide effortlessly under his skin up to the wrist. THUMP! THUMP! The worm, snake whatever it was left an open trail back across Bo's hand as it moved up across his wrist and into his forearm. Once there it split off into several different snakes, making different trails feathering out across the forearm. THUMP! THUMP! Rising up higher and thicker on him, it crossed the elbow and up over the upper arm and the bicep making a nice thick line across the top and feathering out like tributaries from a river. THUMP! THUMP! Bo watched as his arm began to inflate little by little, the ball of his bicep jump and twitch mounding higher and higher, fuller and swollen. THUMP! THUMP! He watched as a ridge ... a rise of some sort began to come up off his chest, beginning to block his vision a little bit of the view down his body and to his feet whose toes poked out past his shoe. THUMP! THUMP! His legs that he felt now battle each other for room, with thighs that felt thicker, denser, heavier, and "UGH!" pushed in hard on his cock and balls already feeling racked with pain from a thong that was getting smaller and tighter around his scrotum. THUMP! THUMP! Legs that suddenly felts a small kiss of air on the sides. THUMP! THUMP! And then all began to slow down... a breeze came across his body and breathed a hushed kiss across his arms, legs, abs and crotch. THUMP! THUMP! Heart rate slowing down....body relaxing....breathing easier... POUND! POUND! POUND! POUND! POUND! POUND! Bo sat up. That wasn't the sound nor rhythm of his heart beat. POUND! POUND! POUND! POUND! POUND! POUND! "Open up Mr. Tum, if that is your real name. You've fucked, or been fucked, by too many men in town, Mr. Tum. You're far too easily to track down." POUND! POUND! POUND! POUND! POUND! POUND! "Mr. Donatelli wants a word with you!" POUND! POUND! POUND! POUND! POUND! POUND! "Very naughty, leaving his boys in the condition you did last night. Running away from the scene of an accident." POUND! POUND! POUND! POUND! POUND! POUND! "Break it in boys!" WHAM! Crrrr WHAM! Crack...WHAM! crack creek crack.... Bo didn't have much time to react. Normally he used this trick for johns who didn't want to seem to leave, some who on occasion moved a massive piece of furniture in front of the front door so Bo couldn't open it. He'd wait until they were in the shower or fixing breakfast in the kitchen to do this disappearing act. He hoped it would work this time. Rolling over and looking up to the headboard, he pressed one of the decorative carvings on it and a small click was heard. The bed was actually made up of three mattresses and the center one hopped up a bit higher on one side than the other two. Pushing up on it, Bo revealed a door and a small crawl space underneath. Getting inside he lay down flat and got it closed just in time for the men to break down his front door. WHAM! KERASH! "Alright Mr. Tum. we've had to break in and now we're thoroughly good and pissed. Come out, come out wherever you are." The men searched all over the apartment, but didn't see Bo anywhere. They came in and stood in his bedroom and held a conversation while Bo held his breath. "He doesn't seem to be in the apartment, Mr. Bugatti. We've checked the closets, even the cupboards given the fact that he is so small and all. Under the couches and chairs. Dante here even checked inside the dishwasher." "Did you check under the bed." "Uhm.... no we didn't." "Well get to it then." The men went to flip the bed but it didn't move. Bo's heart pounded so hard and so loud he was sure the men would hear it. "It seems like it's bolted to the floor sir." "Kick it!" "What?" "Kick the sides you ignorant ass. See if it sounds hollow." "oh...right." Then men proceeded to nearly dance around the bed kicking the bottom of it. Nothing sounded hollow. "It's apparently a completely solid base. The kid can afford some expensive shit, I'll grant him that. But the bed has got blood all over it, and although we saw the floor littered with glow sticks and bands, I don't see any glow in the dark clothes do you, boys?" "There was some in the closet." "I mean on the floor, idiot! There's no bloody raver style clothes on the floor, nor his raver shoes. It means he must have came here last night, got himself patched up as best as he could and then left to go to the hospital or to a friend's house. C'mon. Cherries and Berries will be here soon and more than enough for a three way winning slot pay out. We better tell Mr. Donatelli he's not here." The men left Bo's apartment and the building. Bo stayed in the hole, eating a bag of stale chips kept there until he heard a familiar voice. "Mr. Ainsworth? Are you in here? Sir, it's Mr. Ogle the day doorman with the police. Oh god, please don't be under those sheets dead." The police made motion for Mr. Ogle to stay where he was and they pulled back the bloody sheet. "He doesn't seem to be here." "I'm here!" the police heard a muffled sound followed by a small click and then the center part of the bed popping up. They drew guns as it rose higher and Bo stuck his hands out first, jazz hand style completely open, followed by his head. "It's me, Mr. Ainsworth, but I'm a bit indisposed; they caught me while in bed. Could you hand me the bed sheet back please?" "There's blood all over it, Mr. Ainsworth, did they beat you?" "No, that's from me from an accident I was in last night with some colleagues of theirs." "Accident?" "Yes, officer, I will tell you everything if you could just hand me that sheet back, please." The officer made motion for the sheet to be returned, which Bo then wrapped himself up in as he crawled out from his secret hiding place inside the bed. He told the officers everything that happened. Well, almost everything. He didn't tell them about the odd feeling he had this morning and what he had feared happened to him. He did, however, inform them of all names he overheard in conversation, the look and approximate stats of the three men who kidnapped him and the fact that the gentlemen who broke into his apartment didn't appear to have taken anything, nor did they realize where he was hiding. "Well...." said the officer once Bo had finished telling his story. "The boys have pretty much dusted for finger prints and looked for shoe prints etc., but as there was no physical attack etc, here, I think we can go ahead and let you have your apartment back, although I wouldn't suggest staying here, even if you get the door replaced." "Shall I activate the emergency door for you, sir?" Said Mr. Ogle. "Emergency door?" inquired the lead investigator. "Yes, sir. Our apartments are designed with almost anything in mind, including what to do if there is a break in or a full scale riot. If a door is broken down, or there is a full scale riot the is too close by, we have full metallic doors that slide into place until such time as the riot is quelled or a replacement door is found." "Yes, Mr. Ogle, please activate my door. I still need to wash up from the car accident last night and gather some things before I can head out." "As you ask, Mr. Ainsworth. I'll head down now to activate it. When the officers leave you can punch in your code then and the door will shut." "Thank you." Bo sat on his bed waiting until the officers were finished and left the apartment. He followed the lead investigator who was the last to leave to the door, thanking him, and bidding him good bye. The investigator asked him several times if he sure he didn't want to call for an ambulance, for Bo seemed especially wobbly on his feet and couldn't walk properly. Bo stated he would be fine and when the officer left, he walked to the security system pad and punched in the code for the emergency door. As the metallic door slide shut and clicked, Bo let the sheet slide off of him and he looked down upon his body. There were bumps and ridges he'd never seen before. There were some decent sized mounds upon his chest. His arms he slightly out to his side, looking swole and full with veins crossing this way and that. Looking down, bending slightly over to see past his new mounding chest, he could see his feet sticking out a bit past where the front of his shoes where and the top parts having split completely from the bottoms and now just resting on top of his feet, tightly tied around his ankles. Looking over to a mirror, Bo stumbled backward at what he saw. There... there where he stood, looking with what he knew was his eyes was man of average height with the body of gymnast and a love trail from the middle of his abs working down to an exceptionally sized cock even though flaccid. Bo had thought that there was some growth again, and he hoped that it might proportionately adjust his cock, but it grew in size with him and he knew would be even more monstrous to others now. He tried to get his bearings looking around the room, but it was hard to judge. His eye level was at a different height than what he was used to. His arm reach was greater than it had ever been. His musculature was larger and stronger than it could ever hope to be. He stumbled towards the master bath, and stopped after a couple of steps. He heard slightly heavy footfalls. The pat of good sized feet carrying a good sized man. It took him a number of steps before logic overcame paranoia and he realized, he was the man creating those footsteps. HE was the man. Fumbling for a measuring tape, yard stick, anything he could find, along with a pencil, he backed up against a doorway and placed the pencil on his head, marking the spot where he stopped. Then using the yard stick he found, he measured off and stumbled backwards into a chair. "5' 11".... I'm five feet eleven inches tall." Slowly walking to the bathroom, he stood in front of the mirror and looked at himself. Mounds and bulges, definitions and cuts, some striations and defined veins over well developed muscle tone, a slight coating of hair across the arms, legs, mid way up his abs and down spreading over his crotch, and a decent night's worth of facial hair growth. One hand went to his mouth as he gasped, the other hand reached out to touch its reflection in the mirror. Tears began to form in Bo's eyes as the world he knew was fading and fading fast. "I've become an otter...." he said depressingly.... "a large otter."
  20. The Facility

    Imagine yourself as a fairly nerdy guy with glasses and you have a decent body. You have minimal muscle brought on by natural genetics. You have never stepped foot inside a gym before either. A trusted friend of yours tells you about a special gym across town. You are afraid to go because you are socially awkward and have never truly interacted with any other men about your secret fetish. After some deep thought, you get the urge to check out this place. Your friend, Simon says that you have to go alone and that this is strictly for your own benefit. You enter the front lobby of the facility and notice that all of the men inside are incredibly muscular beauties pushing around obscene amounts of weight on the machines and the racks. You are trying to retain your composure as you watch these gorgeous men grunting and posing in front of mirrors located all over the facility. They are so infatuated with what they see in the mirror that they never notice you standing in the front doorway watching them. You are met by a very attractive guy with a hugely muscled body. He refers you to a side door that leads away from the main part of the facility. Your fears increase as you approach this door. You ask him to please come with you through the door and he nods. You are unknowingly attracted to him as you grab his right hand and squeeze it. The feelings you get as you hold his hand creates a sort of pleasant calm inside you. At the end of the hall, you ask the guy if he will come in with you, he says he cannot because this door was meant for you and not him. He tells you that he will wait for outside the door and promises that you won't regret ever going in. Your nervousness grows substantially as you enter. Once you do, the air feels completely different than the rest of the complex. You feel almost lightheaded from the pressure now being exerted on your head. A voice inside your mind begins speaking to you and telling you that you will give in to your pleasure and your nervousness will only heighten the process if you try to resist it. It even mentions that the hot guy waiting for you outside the door is your soul mate and that he once was a nerd himself. He apparently went through the process too and became what he wanted to become. It is just you in the room and you must decide what will happen to you next. It now feels as if there is something trying to burrow itself into your mind. It scares you immensely and you don't know what to do as this unseen force tries to take over your mind but you are not going to let it. You scream in agony as the pain begins to rush through you. The force begins to travel through your body as it infiltrates your muscles and won’t let go. There is an extreme amount of pressure building up in your chest as your body now shakes violently. The sweat is pouring and soaking your clothes. You keep resisting this force in your mind, but it is about to take over your body. Your clothes are now stuck to your body because of the extreme amount of sweating. The pressure has now turned to a pain that you can't feel anymore, and basically you have gone numb. It is at this point that you have lost control over most of your body. This force will unleash its fury on your muscles. You watch as your muscles explode in size shredding your shirt instantly. Your pants cling for life as your quads squeeze so hard an explosion goes off and the seams fling open. The underwear you are wearing is barely holding on as your cock and balls expand to twice their size. Now they are making tons of luscious cum. The force successfully overtakes every part of your body except the mind and it will try to do so once again. The numbness now subsides and you feel an unreal surge of power moving through your body. The force tries to get you to give in to your urges and to make you feel like you can do anything you want. Your soul mate, Howard, outside the door can hear everything going on in the room and is going through another change himself. His excitement over your anguish and transformation actually makes his own balls grow too as he also makes considering more cum than before. Your anguish soon ends because you cannot endure this kind of pain again. The cum building up in your balls is a way to make you give in to the force. It tries turning you into a sexual beast and you can't help but to run to the door and rip it off it hinges. You grab Howard and make him service you. He starts sucking you off and stroking his cock making you lose sight of your change. The force is winning the battle and you are losing your mind. As this happens, your body continues to grow and Howard is feeling his body grow as well. The thick cum building up inside your balls is now flowing from your cock into him and making him a slave to your muscle. You pull your cock out of his mouth and start spraying jet after jet onto his growing torso. His growing muscles begin shredding his clothes. He gets up and places his growing cock onto your body and starts spraying his own jizz onto it. It is at this point that you both have given your minds up to your lust. The facility itself goes into lockdown and neither one of you can get out. The two of you are completely unaware of what has happened and continue to have sex with each other. Behind a mirror in the back of the room are two men who helped create the facility. They created this room in particular to transform once downtrodden men into godlike behemoths for their own enjoyment. They watch the two of you fucking and sucking and worshipping each other while both of you still expand in size. It gets them so hot and bothered that they start having sex themselves. Your growth continues as you and Howard keep spraying each other over and over with thick gooey piles of cum. The force inside both your minds has changed your thinking completely and all you want to do is grow. The men behind the mirror, Rochester and Whitman, can see that you two are not going to stop and can't help their selves but to watch. They start fucking each other watching the carnage occurring. If the mirror breaks from within the room, the force will find its way into where they are. Whitman actually fears this could happen and tells Rochester that he is going to leave because he doesn't want that to happen to him. The bigger man of the duo, Chester, steps in front of him and says that he will not leave because he does want to see it happen. The two of you still growing in the other room are starting to get as big as the walls. You stick your gigantic hands out to push against the metal as you hear the walls beginning to buckle and cracks forming. The mirror separating the two areas is also starting to crack as Whit tries desperately to run away from it. Chester though is holding him down on the floor making him agonize over what will happen next. As the mirror shatters, the air changes inside the area and consumes the man holding Whit down. He starts to laugh as his body explodes with growth as muscles start popping out everywhere on his body. Whit tries to fight off the force but it takes him over quickly as his body rips through his clothes almost immediately. The two of you in the other room are now attempting to break out of the complex and take off. You and Howard shatter the steel walls like they are made of styro-foam and start speeding your way through the city like lightning. Chester and Whit are now not too far behind. While the two of you have sort of regained a small amount of your minds back, the other two have gone mad with their insatiable desire for more. The force that was being held from within the facility has now been released into the air outside and is starting to make its way to wherever it can. You and Howard both realize that by breaking out of the facility, they have unleashed a power that cannot be stopped, but they also know that nothing can stop it now. Both you and Howard stop to look behind your backs to see that Chester and Whit are chasing them down because they obviously want to take in more power. They start running again down the main street of the city and hear buildings shaking and windows breaking. They stop again for a few seconds just to see a man in a nearby cafe physically grow out of the walls and soar through about two floors of the building before he finally stops expanding. He eventually breaks out of the building and starts chasing after them too. You and Howard begin running again as they race towards the ocean ahead. You feel the man from the cafe getting closer to both of you and stop to turn around. Behind this man you notice that Chester and Whit are being raped by numerous supermen that have also transformed. The man in the cafe catches up to both of you and starts to squeeze the life out of Howard. You punch him and realize that you can't do anything to him because you all have the same amount of strength. You manage to wrestle him to the ground and Howard gets loose. You both turn to start running again as the mob of supermen eventually trample the man from the cafe. Finally the two of you get to the ocean and have to make a quick decision. You both fear that if you jump in, neither one of you will be able to swim and might even die. A decision is made as you both close your eyes and hold each other as the mob continues to race towards you. When the timing is just right, you both separate and run about 50 feet away from each as hundreds upon hundreds of crazy supermen go barreling into the ocean. You both watch as these men start flailing incessantly since they are now too big to swim. Next, both you and Howard run away from the ocean and start looking for a way out of the city. Neither one of you know what will happen next as this force is loose throughout the entire world. It is an uncertain future for the two of you, but at least you both have each other. The sequel is here: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/4896-the-facility-ii-the-return-to-where-you-started-living/
  21. The Achilles Effect

    Achilles strived to be a big bodybuilder for many years and finally did so after a lot of hard work. His once skinny frame filled out with big thick bulky arms, a giant bull neck, and a huge beefy chest. He always was an attractive guy with a handsome face but deep down wanted to be a hulking brute. He achieved these goals through the normal process of lifting, eating tons, and sleeping right. Life gets in the way of these things sometimes, but he never wavered. His job as a barista is sometimes quite hectic and his personal life could also get in the way of his training. He is quite the intellectual too always wanting to focus on his writings and his interests in poetry and music. While Achilles was already a large man by anyone's standards, deep down he’d wanted to be even stronger and much bigger than he already is. So one day he put his thoughts into his blog, but he would never push the ‘post’ button. He closed his eyes while sitting in his desk chair and just imagined himself bigger and more massive than he already is. Achilles always wore his favorite denim shirt because it made his arms look very impressive and has a favorite pair of black pants too that he wore to the gym because they were comfortable. Sitting calmly in the chair, his imagination became his reality as his arms, pecs, legs, and back started to expand stretching the fabric on his shirt and pants to the point that they bust and shred without much effort. He hears something crack and discovers that it is his chair. He crashes to the ground and makes everything in his house shake under his growing frame. Achilles was 240 pounds before he started growing, but after his sudden growth spurt, he is now up to 260 after getting on the scale in his bathroom. He goes ahead and erases his blog entry after what he just experienced. Achilles is originally from England and wanted to take a trip back there to visit his family. While he is there, he wants to meet up with other British blokes from the forum, so he posted an entry in the personals. Almost immediately he got a response from a guy in Manchester. The man tells him that he is willing to meet up with Achilles for brunch and then they could discuss 'other things'. Achilles never tells him just how big he really is, but he does give him a fair description of what his face looks like so the man isn’t completely in the dark. A week goes by and Achilles arrives in London. He goes to visit his family for a few days to catch up on their lives and to let them know how he is doing. They are amazed at the dramatic transformation he has undertaken. He tells them that he has to meet up with a friend that evening and can’t stay long. He promises to make a return to visit again soon. Luckily he still retains his sweet mild-mannered nature and bids adieu until later. He arrives in Manchester that evening and meets up with the other bloke at a small cafe. He is shocked to see that the other guy is also quite large and quite hot. The man's bulging arms go down to his amazing chest and huge quads. His cheeky smile says it all when he says, 'are you surprised mate?' Achilles could hardly say anything because he is blown away by the man's beauty. The man then says, 'should we just skip this and go to the hotel?' Achilles nods and says, 'yes mate that might be wise.' It doesn't take long before Achilles gets the urge to start rubbing the man's huge shoulders before they even leave the cafe. They get to the hotel and without saying anything at all, the man leads Achilles to the suite that they purchased. Before they can get into the door, the man takes his shirt off and starts to flex his guns and bounces his pecs. Achilles does the same taking his shirt off and starts posing his self. It becomes a hot session as both men rub and massage each other taking in each other’s scents and start slowly tasting the bitter sweat off each other. The session lasts for quite a while before Achilles asks him what his name is. The man smiles and says, 'call me Nathan mate.' Achilles smiles back and says, 'sure mate.' Achilles sits down, closes his eyes, and imagines Nathan getting thicker than he currently is. Nathan, still standing in the middle of the suite, starts groaning as Achilles can hear some kind of popping sound with his eyes still closed. He wonders if this imagining process will work on Nathan. Achilles opens his eyes and sees his fantasy come true as the gorgeous Brit starts getting taller. His pants grow tighter and start shredding the seams on the sides. Nathan's already huge frame gets bigger as his pecs grow fuller and his arms grow much thicker. His wide back gets even wider with additional muscles appearing on top of the huge muscles already there. Finally, his pants give way revealing stupendous quads and impressive calves. The growing stops after Nathan gains 40 pounds of muscle on top of what he started with and gains four inches in height. His head nearly touches the ceiling in the hotel suite. Achilles can't help but to go over and start massaging Nathan's newly grown musculature. He rubs his huge chest against Nathan's and the two behemoths start stroking their selves. Nathan pulls his posers off revealing a nice engorged cock and begins to stroke it. The two men eventually get their selves close after a lot of edging and shoot their huge loads onto each other. Achilles says that he has to go soon because he needs to go to America and meet up with a man he knows from Boston. Nathan understands and gives Achilles a hug before saying that he needs to come back to Manchester sometime. Achilles agrees that he will return and they say their goodbyes. He then makes a mad dash out of the suite to get to the airport to catch his flight. It took him several hours to arrive in Boston and is quite surprised at how gorgeous the coastline is. He has a little time to spare before he meets up with his buddy so he goes on to the boardwalk to take in the view. Achilles decides to set up his date with this man on the beach close to the water. The man calls to tell him that he has to finish a social case and will arrive a little later than usual because a family needs his help with some personal matters. Achilles likes the fact that the man is so caring and tells him that he will have no problem waiting for him. About an hour after the call was made, the man shows up wearing a yellow polo with khaki shorts. He is an absolute tank of a man and has reddish blonde hair just about everywhere that Achilles can see and wear glasses. His reddish beard is a sight to behold. Achilles is stunned by how thick and beefy he is for his height since he is not an extremely tall guy. The two of them decided to go eat at a nearby pier restaurant and are discussing the day and evening plans. The man tells him how he wishes he was a little taller because he feels so small for his height. Achilles disagrees completely with his thinking but does understand why the man would feel the way he does. They finish their meals and go back to the beach to enjoy their evening. The man decides to take his shirt off to reveal the thick hairy muscles on his chest and lies down beside Achilles so they talk for a little bit about general things. After about a half-hour, Achilles dares the man to go into the water without any of his clothes on. The man accepts the dare and strips his pants off to reveal nicely shaped quads, a huge ass, and a great cock. He jumps into the water and yells for Achilles to join him. It doesn’t take much for him to take all of his clothes off and join the large man. The two of them gaze into each other’s eyes and start kissing. Achilles holds the hairy stud in his arms and decides to close his eyes. He starts to imagine what would happen if the man suddenly grew taller and gained more muscle on top of what he already had. He asks the man what his name is and he says it is Jon. Achilles smiles and hugs Jon really tight with his eyes still closed. After a couple of minutes, he feels Jon tightening up and hears him moan in a really deep husky tone. The hunky muscle bear is beginning to feel a major change happening from within. Achilles feels Jon's back starting to stretch wider and his spine begins popping adding several inches to his frame. His back continues to get thicker and more developed with each second. Jon's glasses break as his head grows larger accommodating his new size. His hairy pecs are getting incredibly dense and quite hard as well as his abs and quads. Achilles can feel Jon's cock lengthen beneath his own as he continues to keep his eyes closed. As he continues to hold him, the grip he had on Jon is getting looser since he no longer can feel Jon's face. Instead it is his chest that is in front of his head now. Jon's voice has deepened exponentially too as he can feel Jon's growing glutes on his hands. When Achilles does open his eyes, he looks up at the newly tall Jon and smiles at him. Jon smiles back and lifts Achilles up to his face to give him a passionate kiss. The two muscle gods start worshipping each other, rubbing their chests together as the waves hit them and they take in the warm evening sun. They both admit that they like each other quite a bit and must do this again sometime soon. Achilles tells him that unfortunately he has to leave since he has another engagement to attend to the next day. Before he leaves though, Jon grabs a hold of his waist and squeezes his huge rod into Achilles hole to give him a goodbye fuck. The sensation sends him into absolute bliss as Jon thrusts in and out of him for several minutes before he finally pulls out and cums on to Achilles huge beefy pecs. They kiss one last time and he departs for his next destination. Achilles looks inside his calendar book and sees that New York is going to be his next stop on the way. He manages to hop into a taxi located near the pier and it drives him to the nearest rental shop to pick up a car. Once he gets there, he selects his car and begins his drive to New York. At a rest stop on one of the highways up, he calls his good buddy in the city and asks him where he wants to meet him. The other man mentions a park near where he lives so they can talk. Achilles says that is okay with him but it will probably take a few hours before he can there. The man says that he has to get some errands done in the meantime and eat dinner with his husband. Achilles decides to stop at a local hotel for the night to get some rest before getting up the next morning to eat a hearty breakfast. He manages to arrive at the park, but he is a little late. He sees his good buddy sitting on a bench relaxing and watching the birds up in the trees. He turns to look at Achilles and has a Cheshire cat smile. He is wearing a white t-shirt with white pants and has really wide pecs that jut out quite prominently from his chest. Achilles notices them from the moment he saw him sitting there. He goes to sit beside the beefy man and strikes up a conversation all the while trying to keep his distance because he knew the man was married. After a few minutes of just random chit chat, Achilles closes his eyes and imagines his older buddy getting a lot bigger and thicker. He hears the man squirming beside him on the park bench and hears his muscles stretching and popping. Without opening his eyes, Achilles asks the growing man, 'Richard, are you feeling okay?' Richard answers in a rough tone, ‘uhhh, I think so. I seem to be in the middle of a growth phase right now.' Achilles opens his eyes and notices Richard’s pecs swelling up and out into huge hairy boulders of muscle. His beefy legs are beginning to stretch the fabric of his pants. Incredibly, he watches in amazement as Richard's back and lats bust their way through his t-shirt. His enormous pecs are now shredding the front of his shirt and are bouncing involuntarily when it finally falls off. His beefy arms have developed into cannons and his shoulders are now getting absurdly huge. He is now hairier then he was before. Richard starts flexing his new bis and tris and can’t help but to rub all of the new muscle that just appeared. His greyish goatee has turned back to black as well as the fur on his body. Achilles can hear Richard's pants ripping the seams down the sides exposing his new gargantuan quads with their diamond-shaped muscularity. Achilles starts rubbing him up and down feeling his new massiveness. He won’t try to have sex with him, but compliments him on his dramatic transformation. Richard is quite thankful for Achilles' help in getting him over the plateau and tells him that he will remember this someday when they meet again. Achilles is glad that Richard is happy but has to admit that he needs to go meet someone in Georgia and must leave in just a bit. Before he leaves though, Richard wants him to meet his hubby and to see the reaction he will have to his growth. Achilles thinks this is a great idea and will wait to meet him. After a few phone calls and about twenty more minutes, Richard’s husband arrives and barely recognizes him in all of his buff glory. After a few laughs from the three men, Achilles says his goodbyes to the couple and sets off for the southern states. It will take him nearly two more days to arrive at his next destination Atlanta, Georgia. There he is going to meet his good friend, G T, and take in the sights of the city. He reaches him by phone the night he gets there and wants to meet up. G T tells Achilles to stop by the gym he is at right now. When he gets there, G T is in the middle of his workout. He stands and watches G T pumping his huge beefy chest with some nice sized dumbbells. He has a huge back already, but Achilles is starting to imagine what G T will look like with a much larger one. He wears thin glasses and has very fine curly black body hair all over his chocolate-colored skin. Achilles remains standing and closes his eyes creating a picture in his head of what G T will look like as a much denser version of himself. The clanking of the dumbbells he is using slows down quickly and he can hear the big black man grunting more than before. Then he hears a faint sound coming from G T's body, one that sounds quite promising. This time, Achilles wants to keep his eyes open to watch G T’s transformation, but notices that it halts when he opens them. G T is lying on a bench doing his dumbbell flys, but feels something happening in his chest. Achilles decides to close his eyes again to start thinking about G T's growth once again and starts to imagine his arms swelling. He can hear the black stud grunting again as G T starts noticing his arms getting even beefier than before but much more solid. He doesn't have the vascularity, but his muscles are definitely growing. He does a rep or two and watches his hairy pecs moving up and down growing wider and more defined. His legs appear to be getting much thicker too as well as his back thickening outward. Achilles opens his eyes and looks down at G T lying on the bench nearly falling off the side with his new body. He manages to get up to smile at him while still wearing his glasses. The two men manage to get a few rubs in on each other before G T has to go shower and find some clothes that are a few sizes up from where he was before. Once he dresses, the two studs decide to go to dinner and discuss workout tips. Achilles receives a text from a good friend down in Miami that wants him to come and meet him for a few hours. He tells G T that he can’t stay much longer, but he will definitely come back when he has more time. G T wanted to spend the evening with Achilles and seems a tad aggravated, but he will settle for some kind of parting gift. They determine an arm wrestling match would suffice and it ends with a draw. Achilles bids G T adieu for now after eating a very satisfying meal. His trip to Miami takes almost an entire day. He arrives and is blown away by the tropical setting and the wonderful beaches. He stops at one of them to take in the air and to just peer out on to the Atlantic Ocean. While walking barefoot down the coast, he receives another text from his friend and is told to meet him at his condo. Once he gets there, he is met by a nicely built man wearing all Under Armour gear and has a well-kempt beard with an impressive tattoo covering his huge right arm. The man smiles big at Achilles and hugs him for nearly an entire minute. He then introduces Achilles to his boyfriend. After the nice introduction, Achilles and the hunky man leave to catch a bite to eat. It is decided that it would be natural to go eat Cuban food, so they do. The big Brit can’t help but to take in the man's huge frame and incredible body lines as they head to the restaurant. He knows the hunk has a boyfriend, but is completely smitten with him anyway. They end up in a corner booth at the restaurant and start talking about books and music. They learn that both of them have similar interests. The conversation eventually changes to talking about beaches. The tall hunk mentions South Beach and how they really need to just go there and relax for a while. Achilles agrees with his suggestion and says they should take their food with them. After packing their meals to go, they get there and find a spot to finish eating. The man sheds his shirt when he finishes and pulls his pants off to show off his incredible legs. He is also wearing a speedo and it makes his butt look amazing. Achilles can’t believe how great this man looks already. The tall stud decides to take a little stroll down the beach for a few minutes, so Achilles closes his eyes and imagines the man growing bigger as he walks. Achilles yells, 'Victor, hold on mate, you are getting too far away from me.' Victor yells back, 'Then get your tush over here.' Achilles remains seated to continue visualizing his buddy growing as he takes each additional step. As Achilles focuses on his fantasy, Victor starts to feel a sensation traveling through his entire body. He looks down to see his quads thickening up and his butt growing. The growth is so sudden that he is not prepared for his speedo to start ripping apart at the seams. His chest, already thick and dense, starts to fill out more than before as well as his back. His big arms are even thicker which makes the tattoo on his right arm appear more stretched. His growing crotch isn't helping matters either as his speedo barely clings to his muscles. He shouts for the Brit to come over and wrap him in a towel before the speedo decides to fly away. Achilles quickly opens his eyes, runs over to Victor, and grabs the towel they used to eat on to wrap the growing stud up in. The speedo ends up falling off on to the sand and looks like nothing but a piece of fabric. Achilles feels how large Victor's cock is, but doesn't attempt to go further since he knows that he has a boyfriend at home. The two manage to exchange a kiss for good sake though. Knowing how embarrassed Victor is, Achilles takes him to the car and drives him back to the condo. Victor invites him in for a drink, but Achilles says that he needs to go since things didn't turn out quite the way he hoped they would. He needs to take the car to the local rental shop anyway. He says his goodbyes to Victor and travels to the rental company. There he grabs a taxi to take him to the Miami airport and books a flight to Chicago to meet up with another buddy. When he leaves the airport at O'Hare, he hails another taxi to take him to Uptown. His friend in uptown Chicago isn’t quite like the others. He isn't muscular by any means, but he does have a strong thirst for it. The man will be off work in the mid-evening and has already talked to Achilles about meeting up at a local Chinese restaurant. The Brit isn't really fond of Chinese food, but he is willing to eat it if it appeals to his friend. The guy gives him the coordinates to 'Panda Express' and they meet up there. After texting him a few minutes earlier, the man shows up wearing glasses, a black t-shirt, and a pair of blue jeans. He doesn't look like the other men Achilles has been in contact with, but he is interesting. He is also very friendly and excited to be eating at his favorite restaurant. The two men talk a lot about guys in general and how the man just wants to be as massive as humanly possible. Achilles figures out pretty quickly that this guy is into macro growth and loves giant musclemen. It is a fantasy that never really came up until now. He didn't want to imagine this happening in the restaurant so he decides to wait until they went somewhere more isolated. When they finish eating, the two guys go outside to walk to the naval pier. The Brit starts checking this guy out and sees that a major physical change could make a difference in this man's life. He stops to close his eyes and begins to focus in on his friend David's voice. Achilles envisions his slim hairy body and adorably nerdy looks transforming into godlike proportions. He hears David starting to growl in a really deep voice. His skin is starting to stretch and the sound of clothes ripping fills the air. The Brit hears David’s arms expanding to gargantuan size. He flexes his biceps as they are growing shredding his t-shirt sleeves. His growing hairy chest is noticeably hairier now and is getting more powerful by the minute by tearing its way through the rest of his t-shirt. He can feel his back getting wider and wider making the growing nerd thirst for more. His thin legs are now thickly muscled and straining against the fabric in his jeans. He feels them busting the seams out the sides exposing his more defined bubble butt. David's long cock is now much longer making its way out of his underwear which has fallen to the ground. Achilles hears him moaning and grunting as he is getting taller also. The muscles in his back continuously pop making additional space for more height. The quiet and reserved nerd is now a massive monster. Achilles finally opens his eyes and sees the new David standing in front of him. The two big men are in such lust that they start to have sex right there on the pier. This date will have quite an effect on Achilles. David’s penetration leads to a growth sequence for the Brit. He feels his body swelling as David thrusts his long cock inside him. David loves it so much that he can feel Achilles’ body reacting to the fucking. The Brit grows nearly 20 pounds by the time they finish. The two studs lie on the pier talking about random things and cuddle lovingly. They have become very close friends now. David refers Achilles to a man he knows on the other side of Chicago. He tells him that he will talk to him after he meets the other man. Achilles gives David a nice long kiss before he leaves and gets up to find a taxi around the pier. The man is described as a giant man himself. He isn't entirely fit, but his sheer size is something to behold. They are meeting at a club close to the heart of Chicago. David tells Achilles what he looks like so he isn't that hard to miss. Sure enough, this man is standing close to the entrance of the club David told him about. They say their hellos and go inside. In the club, they start talking about each other’s muscles and how they both enjoy flexing in front of other men. This guy admits that he only does it on camera for fun and not for money. This surprises Achilles in a way, but he understands. The man sheds his shirt and starts dancing on the floor. His huge pecs and shoulders have definitely caught Achilles eyes. He joins him on the floor and starts rubbing his chest and looking up at the man's big grin as he starts licking his biceps. He isn’t exactly Achilles' type, but he goes with the flow. Next thing he knows, the man starts to grind on him. The Brit pushes him away, but the man just comes back and starts doing it again. He realizes that this man enjoys the aggressiveness of it all so he gets into it even more. With the two still dancing, Achilles closes his eyes and starts imagining this man getting bigger as he talks with more authority. He asks what the man's name is and he says it is Rick. Rick pushes his giant pecs into Achilles face while his eyes are still closed. Achilles immediately opens his eyes and watches as Rick's pecs are swelling and starting to smother his face. The huge man grabs a hold of him and starts to grow rapidly. The club goers are watching in amazement as Rick is growing entirely out of his clothes and beyond. This is not the typical growth pattern Achilles is used to. Achilles can't get away from him so he attempts to wiggle his way out of his growing hands. Rick is so involved in the transformation that he just lets go of him by accident. His entire body is going through a dramatic change growing muscle on top of muscle. Rick’s cock is now hitting the floor causing him to start stroking it without a second thought. Achilles doesn't stick around to see the rest of the transformation as he is so distraught over what he has done to Rick. He calls David back and tells him that seeing his friend may have been a mistake and that he needs to fly to San Francisco in the meantime to meet up with a friend there. David tells him that he hopes they can meet again really soon because he had such a fantastic night. The two studs hang up and the Brit gets in a taxi located outside the club to go back to O'Hare and fly to San Francisco. The flight takes the entire day so when he arrives in the West Coast city, he goes to a hotel and gets some much needed rest. He will get up the next day to meet with his good friend in person. His friend sent him a text telling him to meet up in the Castro, the center of gay life in the city. Achilles meets his good buddy at a local sports bar and is pleasantly surprised to see the reddish-brown haired muscle bear smiling at him when he goes to sit on a bar stool. They shake hands and the man gives him a nice big bear hug. They start talking and the man tells him that he is in an open relationship where his partner and his self are allowed to pursue their own interests as long as they don't cheat without the other's permission. Achilles thinks that this is an interesting proposition to have. They start talking about all of the events the city offers and how the Brit always wanted to visit. The two men decide to go outside and walk around taking in the sights. Achilles stops for a moment to close his eyes and picture his friend getting bigger and more powerful. He motions him to wait for a minute because he wants to breathe in the air. 'Dan mate, this place has a great atmosphere.' Dan says, 'I'm glad that you decided to come here. I have so many things to show you.' Achilles smiles and says, 'I know you do.' After the exchange on the street, Achilles goes back to focusing on his good friend's beefy body. He hears Dan stop in his tracks and sort of whisper something. He can hear popping sounds coming from the thick bear. He opens his eyes and sees Dan's back stretching wider and getting denser and more powerful. The growing stud starts moaning and grunting seeing his body changing and getting thicker and more developed. His voice is becoming deeper and more boastful. He flexes his huge growing biceps making them rise higher and higher. His clothes have started to rip apart exposing explosive shoulders and traps. He turns to look at Achilles and shows him his wide hairy pecs getting more thickness. He is shocked to see his abs popping out of nowhere and extending to look like large slabs of concrete on his stomach. His legs blow out of his pants and have gotten hairier than before with more reddish-brown fur. Achilles is shocked at how sexy and strong Dan looks with his new body. He goes over to stroke Dan’s new muscles. Dan leans in for a passionate kiss and squeezes the now smaller Achilles in his arms. The Brit places his arms around the bigger bear and is essentially carried up into his chest. The two huge studs start making out and have sex. After this really long session, the two travel on over to where Achilles is staying so he can find some clothes for the new improved Dan. It is at that time Achilles tells Dan he must go to LA to meet up with this young guy he met on the forum. Dan wishes he could stay longer, but that he understands he must do what he has to do. Achilles gives Dan the key to his hotel room and wishes him luck on finding a new wardrobe. He leaves to find a taxi outside to take him to Los Angeles. It takes several hours before Achilles arrives in the one of the largest cities in America to track down his young aficionado. The two acquaintances decide to meet at his apartment in the middle of the city. He arrives at the housing community a little late, but the small man doesn’t mind. He opens the door to greet Achilles and lets him in after a little small talk. After the Brit enters, the college-aged guy reveals his nicely developed chest to him. He’s not entirely ripped, but his symmetry impresses Achilles a lot and sees great potential in the young man. He starts to close his eyes but before he does he says, 'Corey mate, you are looking bloody good.' Corey answers back with, ‘I’m trying, but it has been difficult for me to gain any weight at all.’ He admits that he really wants to massage the Brit very badly, but doesn’t want to offend him. Achilles is fine with allowing Corey to try and loosen up the kinks in his body. Now with his eyes closed, he feels the youngster’s hands slowly rubbing his tired and achy muscles along his shoulders and back. He creates a picture in his mind of Corey’s hands growing while he is trying to massage him. Sitting in a chair in Corey’s living room, Achilles feels something going on behind his head. He turns around to open his eyes and sees Corey's fingers swelling up and knows that the transformation has started to take shape. He hears him start moaning as the growth is moving up his arms now. The Brit sees every single vein and muscle in Corey’s arms start to stretch his skin out and force their way out from what seems like nowhere. This makes the young man react staring at his biceps and triceps growing. The feeling moves up to his shoulders now and eventually down to his chest where his pecs have swollen to twice their size and he is developing perfect six-pack abs. Then it moves to his legs, where he is still wearing his khaki shorts. His quads thicken so much that his shorts start to move up close to his waistline. Corey's growth is quite drastic as his face is much fuller and more mature than before. Achilles is quite surprised to see the smaller guy getting so big and powerful. He decides to get up himself to give the huge youngster a massage of his own since he needs it more than the Brit does. Corey walks over to a mirror to check his self out and is amazed at his new muscles. Achilles follows him over to where he is and gives him a nice rubdown before telling him that the two of them need to set up another time to meet again. The buff youngster wants to know why he would say that. Apparently while the Brit was sitting in the chair, he received a text from a good friend of his in the UK that really wants to see him again. He tells Corey that this bloke doesn't have a lot of time to interact with him because of his schedule and he needs to leave right away. Despite his disappointment, Corey understands the situation and gives Achilles a huge goodbye squeeze. The Brit rushes into the taxi he left there and rides to the airport to fly back to the UK. He arrives in London on time to find that his good mate has sent a taxi to the airport to pick him up. He wants Achilles to meet him at one of the spots he just did a photo shoot at to show him a few things. It takes about a half hour for the Brit to get to the Thames River and wait for his good friend to arrive. He decides to lean down where the water begins and stare at himself to pass the time and admire his size. He currently sits at 280 and would love to add that extra 20 to make it an even number. He flexes his huge guns not noticing that smaller arms are now wrapped around him squeezing really tight. The other bloke laughs and says, 'whoa mate you sure do know how to make me remember you.' Achilles turns to give the man a huge bear hug and kisses him tightly. After putting him down he boasts, 'Chris mate, you are looking bloody beautiful.' Chris has blonde highlights in his brown hair, looks to have a ripped physique, and may even be more attractive than he remembers. He picks Chris up again to give him another hug and is talking to him in a really playful manner. Chris tells him to close his eyes and just relax so he can tickle him. Achilles knows that he is ticklish and won't budge. Instead he goes into another visual fantasy with his friend Chris still in his arms. He really wants Chris to grow as big as him and to feel every single muscle twitch, pop, and stretch as he holds him. The Brit focuses his energy completely on his good mate. As they stand there by the river, Achilles feels Chris's rippling abs along his own thick abdomen and wants them to grow. He hears the other Brit moaning as his body is starting to react making Achilles have to push his arms out and away from him. Chris’s abs start making popping sounds stretching as his tight pecs blow up into thick balloons. His fit arms are bulging with immense power as they explode in size. His cute face now has a more mature look to it than before the change. Even before the growth moves to Chris’s lower body, Achilles is making love to his friend as he kisses and worships the growing bloke’s heaving chest. He feels Chris's back pulling his shirt tighter and it starts shredding in multiple places. He lets go of him due to the fact that Chris is getting taller now. His back is popping and appears to be making room for more muscle to grow. His legs are starting to rip his pants in half exposing his massive quads. This isn't the typical growth pattern Achilles is used to seeing. He is basically turning Chris into his equal. His mindboggling growth is actually stretching his skin and leaving marks. Achilles pulls his pants down to penetrate him and fuck him. Chris's clothes are already shredded and his fit 160 pound body has exploded to 280. His extreme growth has made him six inches taller now. The two British muscle studs have sex all night long as they fuck each other over and over again. Unlike his previous sessions, Achilles stays with his buddy overnight. When he gets up the next morning, he realizes that he has to make one more stop before he heads home. His time with Chris is most likely his favorite, but he does have feelings for most of the guys. He wishes he can stay with Chris a little longer, but his flight to Sydney is just a couple of hours from now and he needs to get moving. Chris tells him not to worry about it and they will meet again sometime soon. He even rides with Achilles to the airport to see him off. They kiss each other goodbye and the Brit-Kiwi boards the plane for Sydney, Australia. He won’t arrive there until later in the day. He has already been there before so he knows the city quite well. His Australian buddy is waiting for him at a restaurant just a little ways from the airport. He wants to eat a late-night dinner with Achilles after a hard workout at the gym. He has never met this man in person, but he has seen his pictures before. The man immediately recognizes him and kids him about his nervous energy. He is a typical looking bodybuilder, probably just getting off a cutting cycle. There is no hair on him that the Brit can see, since the man is wearing a loose button-up shirt and board shorts. They sit down and eat some of the local cuisine and just talk about random stuff. It is nice for Achilles to just settle down a bit before he goes back to Taupo. Instead of waiting to go somewhere first, Achilles closes his eyes as the man is sitting there talking to him. 'Luke mate, I am picturing you right now growing and enjoying every moment of it.' Luke stares at him as his eyes widen and a smile appears on his face. He is starting to feel something happening to him as they sit there. The Aussie feels a sudden rush of adrenaline moving up his spine. Achilles envisions him with a body that rivals some of the biggest heavyweights in the world. Trying not to make a scene by creating too much noise, Luke quietly sits in his seat and grunts as his clothes are getting really tight. The sound of rippage starts to echo throughout the eatery. His expanding back shreds the entire back out of his shirt and keeps going. His arms sitting on the table blow up like cannons. Achilles feels the table starting to quake as Luke's legs bust out the seams on his shorts. His sandals fall apart as his feet continue growing. He can't move now as his massive chest lifts the bolted-down table from the floor. With his eyes now open, the Brit tries to get out of the way but isn’t fast enough. Luke has so much testosterone pumping through his body that he literally pulls the table out of the floor and throws it to the side. Achilles is lifted up by the hulking Aussie and his shirt is ripped completely off. Luke tries to suck on Achilles' nipples to make him submit so he can dominate. The two men have emptied the eatery and start horsing around with each other. Before the police get a chance to arrive, the two huge studs are hoping they won't get caught and have to pay for damages to the restaurant. The problem is Luke is so massive that he has nothing to wear. Achilles manages to find a towel in the eatery to put around Luke's waist until they can get some clothes for him. He manages to drive the brute back to his flat since he has a boyfriend already and tells him that they will continue this wild adventure when he has more time. Luke isn't that keen on Achilles answer, but will hold him to his promise. Achilles manages to find a taxi down the street from Luke’s flat and rides to the airport. After his journeys all over the world, the Brit arrives back in Taupo and is met by a local who takes him to his house that hasn't been touched in weeks. He goes inside to take a much needed shower, but not before he walks past a wall mirror and notices his reflection. He is amazed at how much bigger he is compared to when he left. He stands there and starts posing, checking out all the muscles staring back at him. He imagines himself growing beyond the walls of his house, becoming more than a man. He doesn't have to close his eyes this time because he can just focus his energy on his body through the mirror. In just a short amount of time, he can feel changes happening. He feels the stretching and popping coming from all over his body and it makes him roar with anticipation. He is nude now and the growth is making his skin feel like fabric. He is soaring past the 300 pound mark and it keeps going as his chest swells up, his legs push even further apart, his arms grow thicker, and his height increases. His immense size starts to make the foundation of the house react and huge cracks start appearing down the walls. He is now living out his ultimate fantasy and never wants it to stop. This might be the end of the story, but then again it might not be. Who knows how far Achilles will go with his imagination. Check out other stories with this character here: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3910-the-other-side-of-the-species/(mentioned, but not a main character) http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2250-achilles-does-a-body-good/(supporting character)
  22. Beyond Humanity

    Darren is a veteran of the Evolution Forum and a regular poster. He enjoys it when other members post pics and videos of their favorite bodybuilders and athletes. After being a wallflower for quite some time, he decided to post pictures of himself. A handful of guys posted comments on his thread and praised him for his accomplishments. After a couple of days, the thread blows up and he begins to realize that he is quite popular because of the way he looks. Two guys are so smitten with him that they send him PMs on the site. One of them, Allan, has a secret that he wants to reveal to him in person. Darren is quite apprehensive because he doesn't really know the guy very well. Allan is fairly new to the forum and hasn't participated all that much. The other guy, Kory, is a buddy of his that is really taken aback by his body lately and really wants to meet him in person. Darren tells him about Allan and thinks it would be fun to meet this guy at the same time because of the secret he wants to reveal. Kory eventually comes around to Darren’s suggestion and they set up a date to meet him. Dar has seen pictures of Kory before from Yahoo and is remarkably surprised by how sexy he is when they meet. Their eyes meet and they both kiss very passionately. Both receive texts in the middle of their meet and greet from Allan and meet at the local hotel. When they find his room, he opens the door and reveals that he is a massive bodybuilder with a really hairy body and a well-kempt face. He invites both of them in and begins to study each and every part of their bodies. He senses their attraction to each other and wants both of them to just relax and 'get into the moment'. They both begin kissing again and feel like the air around them is actually getting tighter. They feel compelled to take their clothes off and continue to make love. Allan takes his pants off and sits back in a chair as he concentrates on the two men. Darren is so into Kory that he doesn't even notice that his cock has actually lengthened by an inch. Kory's cock has also lengthened an inch and is wrestling with his friend’s cock. With Allan looking on in his chair, he manages to extend Darren and Kory's cocks by one inch. The air around them is beginning to change their hormonal levels to the point that their bodies are beginning to expand. As Darren thrusts his huge cock into his buddy, his ass flairs outward and his legs begin to swell up to the point that he can actually hear the bed starting to creak. Kory's body is also beginning to change as his ass expands along with his asshole. His abs pushes upward and forces his legs outward due to his new size. Darren’s chest swells up to the point that he loses sight of his buddy. Kory also swells up huge breaking the entire bed in the process. Allan is swelling himself as his clothes start shredding and his chair breaks. The growth doesn't stop either as all three of them grow beyond human proportions. As Darren cums inside Kory, Allan walks over to both of them and adds his cum to the sexcapade by spreading it on the other two growing giants. The growth continues to accelerate as the three men defy logic with their growth cycles. Despite Allan's best efforts to advance his own agenda, Darren and Kory successfully decide to restrain him and control his own growth. With this extreme cycle continuing, they decide to rebel and steal away his powers. They have figured out that his cum contains enough fuel to make them both grow exponentially. When he cums however, his power is minimal and he can't grow anymore. With both of them stronger than him, he cannot escape either of their grasps. Darren manages to tie him up several times with the sheets and bed covers from the broken bed as he lies on the floor. They both start working his cock and turning him on against his will. They have to be careful to only arouse him in spurts as he will grow if they do it for too long. While Darren strokes the base of his cock, Kory is stroking the head and working up a good rhythm too. Allan begins oozing precum which slides down his shaft and coats both giant’s hands. While the man's precum isn't extremely potent, it does have an importance. They both feel sensations moving up their bodies that eventually end up in both of their cocks. Their massive members are growing even bigger as Darren watches his cock lengthen as it snakes its way towards Allan's mouth. Unfortunately Kory's is doing the same thing. This puts a smile on Allan’s face as he takes both cocks into his mouth, slurping away at the juices flowing inside his mouth and down his body. Despite the fact that this is exactly what the tied up man wants, they both can't help but to enjoy the sensation coming from his insatiable sucking. The precum gets thicker and changes to a very smooth honey texture that the man laps up like it is the last meal he will ever have. Darren and Kory are feeling unbelievably great and can feel their bodies slowing growing again. Allan will get his revenge on them though as the two giant’s precum begins to change its texture to pure sweet and sticky cum making this man grow into something else. The two giant’s inch closer to the ceiling as the other man continues to drink up their cum loads. He laughs at both of them as he explodes in imaginable growth. His arms and legs that are bound are unleashing their fury on the knots and sheets holding him in place. Darren and Kory turn to look at him and notice his legs tatter the knots and his forearms expanding to the point that the veins begin to look like garden hoses. He destroys the sheets in a matter of seconds. He grows so fast that the hotel room may not exist once he stops growing. The giants are so shocked that it is pretty much too late to run. They do manage to get out of the room in time before it implodes under his size. They are fairly big themselves but they still resemble humans. Allan must be about 15’tall now and appears to have a vendetta for both men. Both of the smaller giants stand outside the crumbling hotel in awe of what this gargantuan monster has just achieved. He must weigh nearly a ton and his tool dangles dangerously close to both of their heads. The two of them combined probably top about 800 pounds. After they look at each other for a few seconds, they figure out that perhaps if he drips precum on top of them, they both might be able to drain his energy somehow and even grow bigger themselves. They both rub his insanely large balls and manage to get their hands around his shaft to rubbing very rapidly. Allan’s moans shake the ground and start shattering glass in the buildings around them. When they feel him starting to tense up, he attempts to crush them knowing what they are up to. Kory barely avoids the monster’s feet and feels a mist coming from his giant cock head. Darren watches as his buddy starts growing again adding an additional 100 pounds to his frame. He is clearly much stronger now and strokes even harder and faster. Again, the monster tries to crush both of them, but is unsuccessful. They both begin to notice that he is slowly starting to shrink as he appears to erupt any second now. Darren starts to see a white ocean flowing out of his cock head as Kory keeps stroking. They both dive straight into the huge white river as it continues to flow freely. It isn't long before the entire planet begins to tremble as the two smaller giants begin their otherworldly growth cycles. They both roar with excitement as their strength and power explodes. They absorb all of Allan’s cum as their muscles grow beyond the limits of humanity. The other monster can't help but to watch in disgust as the two behemoths soar into the sky and squash him like a bug with their immense feet. They both no longer function as humans as their humanistic traits disappear. The only thing they can do now is have sex with each other and destroy everything in their sights. Eating each other’s cum will have no effect anymore as they grow to their biggest potential. Growing bigger would most likely suffocate both of them to death since there is no more air beyond the clouds. The real question now is what will happen to the two of them since they are now the biggest creatures on the planet?
  23. -I will post the whole story little by little to create some suspence. Sorry if there are mistakes, not clear things or not idiomatic expression, as I am not a native speaker. I hope you enjoy: This is a story of a skinny boy. His name was Paul. He was very short compared with the guys of his age and his skin was very pale. At school he was very good at science. He learned to build little machines and robots by himself. Machine design was his passion. On one occasion, after school, as he was walking next to a gym, three guys near the entrance, who looked very muscular, stared at him and started laughing. They shouted: -What an ugly boy you are! You are so little and skinny! Look at us! We are muscular and sexy! You are a loser nerd! You are hideous! Paul started crying and ran fast away. What they told him was awful. -How dare they!- shouted the boy. Paul remembered that on each of their T-shirts there was written one name: Carl, Chris and Christopher. -They must be their names- thought Paul. Carl was quite big, Chris was bigger and Christopher was huge. -Tomorrow I will take another path to avoid them- said he to himself. And so he did, but, while he was walking on the paviment, a car slew down beside him. They were the three guys of the previous day. -Look at you. You are hideous! See this guns? And they started flexing. Then they laughed very meanly and drove fast away. -What?!- said Paul. -How did they know I was going to be here?- asked the boy himself. -That's enough!- he exclaimed. -They cannot get away with this. They will pay for it!-. Paul thought up a plan to avenge himself. He worked hard for half an year and, while Carl, Chris and Christopher were going on mocking him and pumping their muscles, Paul's project came to an end. To be continued...
  24. Hypnosis Does A Body Good

    A C has been pumping iron for years and is pleased with his progress. He started out as a skinny 18 year old and continuously grew from that point for about 6 years. His strength tripled with the help of a lot of supplements and hard work, but he has to work on his diet too. His stomach is an eyesore and doesn’t like to go shirtless despite the fact that he has 22” arms and a colossal barrel chest. He has been working on his legs extra hard lately to get them up to the size of his upper body. They don’t look ripped, but the thickness of them makes him feel really good. The redhead doesn’t shave his body hair either and likes to stay au natural despite a lot of the ladies opinions. He admits that he doesn’t have time to date to his friends on occasion because he wants to focus on growing even more. He recently added hypnosis into his routine to see if it would help him work harder on making new goals and to possibly help with his diet to reduce his gut. He heard from some guys at his gym that it could actually help him grow bigger after taking the class, but the results would vary depending on how much he wanted it. A C has attended every class over the last several Mondays and is about to finish up. He isn’t as tired anymore after he leaves the gym from an intense two-hour workout since he started taking the hypnosis course. His muscles feel pumped to the max and he can get an erection from the sight of seeing himself in the mirrors. His energy level has increased since then too. The instructor always does one-on-one sessions with the athletes to customize their needs and wants. With the last session this Monday night, A C is extra motivated. He decides to get his workout in before the class in case afterwards he wants to do something else to celebrate. For the last session, the instructor puts him under and asks him very specific questions about his goals and why he feels the need to get bigger. A C tells the instructor that it is his destiny to be huge and powerful and he won’t stop until he gets there. After this admission, the instructor wakes him from his coma and the session ends. A C feels like a ton of stress has been lifted from his conscience and leaves the facility to return home. Still feeling pumped from his earlier work out, he rubs his hairy chest and flexes his thick biceps feeling the soreness running deep inside. He almost feels horny from the touch; he loves being big and only wants to be bigger. He has never been satisfied with his 6’1 height, but to be wide and powerful would more than make up for it. He gets home a few minutes later and walks into his bedroom. Every morning he would always get up to walk over to his body length mirror to examine himself and flex. Now for the first time ever, he would do it at night. When he stands in front of it, he is wearing a white tank with Labrada Laboratories on it. He still has on his grey shorts and black boxers. The flip flops he is wearing are black with a green stripe on the sides. He starts to smile and do his normal posing routine: double bi, back, crab, and whatever else he learned from his trainer a few months back. The posing actually makes him feel more confident than before since he can’t keep his eyes off of his pumped chest. He pulls the tank off to stare at his huge hairy pecs bouncing up and down and getting all pumped. He feels them jumping around in his hands and it gets his juices flowing throughout his entire body. He starts flexing his biceps and can feel the testosterone starting to increase. The overwhelming sensations make him want to dominant someone and tell them to worship him. Since no one is around though, the only person he can do that with is himself in the mirror. He starts to trash talk his reflection making himself feel incredibly powerful. Now dripping with sweat and getting a lot warmer, A C strips off his grey shorts to check out his huge quads. He flexes them taking in their diamond-shaped beauty and attempts to make them ripple. As he does so, he starts to implore his body to react to his demands. The tingling sensations he has been feeling for the last twenty minutes have now moved deeper into his body as he feels the soreness in his muscles beginning to subside. He can’t get over the fact that he isn’t sore anymore, but his muscles are remaining so pumped. A C feels his heart pumping harder than before as the blood starts circulating through every inch of him. He looks down at his hands hearing an odd sound coming from them. Are they growing? The sounds they are making are actually the fingers stretching and making more room to accommodate the added weight. It is not a painful feeling, but rather it itches. He laughs at what is transpiring. He feels his blood inching up to his wrists making them swell exposing the veins that will start the trail up his arms. He moans as he feels them pulsate and grow larger under the skin. The sensation gets stronger as he notices his forearms thickening up and making all kinds of stretching sounds. With the feeling now moving up to his biceps and triceps, A C begins to roar in anticipation as he watches intently as he 22” guns shine in the light. The big vein sitting on the peaks of both biceps begins to stick further out and appears to be growing larger. He feels the blood rushing through both of them making him bounce his biceps. He starts to agonize as the decent sized horseshoe in his triceps pulls wider and bigger taking up more space than before. The veins grow from what were straws into small garden hoses. The pleasure he is getting from his growing arms is sending his cock into a euphoric state as he starts to leak precum in his boxers. He laughs as he watches his biceps popping not once but twice growing larger, thicker, and wider. It has now moved to his shoulders making him go absolutely wild. He has cannonball sized shoulders to begin with, and can now feel them filling up with blood. He looks from side to side as each fiber expands and stretches bigger and bigger growing into his delts pushing higher than before. His blood has now made its way into his neck where his carotids begin to stick out further than before. The huge veins start making more space inside for more blood to flow. A C can feel every single change occurring. While he has some hair on his head, what is there is starting to fall out as he feels his head literally swelling up and getting thicker. He moans in agony as not only the sound is overwhelming but the feeling of the muscles in his head thickening up makes him nearly fall to the ground. He manages to keep staring into the mirror to watch what happens next. His neck continues to stretch and widen making bull necks look tiny. He knows now that it will start moving down his chest. After finishing its trip inside his neck, his blood starts to travel slowly down the ridge above his huge pecs all hairy and soaked with sweat. He loves the feeling of his pecs all swollen and sore, but this is unlike anything he has felt before. The sensation is beyond ecstasy as his chest heaves in and out with anticipation of its growth cycle. He feels his pecs expanding outward pushing his massive arms out further than before. His nipples drape even further down with this change. He squeals in delight as his nipples are being manipulated, growing wider. The hair on his chest is falling off because of his excessive growth. His cock shoots a thick white load into his boxers as his nipples expand. The thickness of each pec creates shadows under each curve. Tears stream down his face as he feels his gut starting to morph. The fat around his middle is beginning to dissipate as he feels his waist tighten to a level he has never felt before. It frightens him at first until he feels every single muscle in his abdominal cavity start to thicken and harden. He watches as his obliques, stabilizers, and abdominals start popping growing with each sound. He rubs each individual ab feeling the fibers swelling up into thick marble slabs. His legs are unable to support his weight and they buckle on him, making him fall to the ground. This makes his house shake to the point that it leaves cracks in the floor. He laughs and wants so much more. His blood starts to move to his back. He can feel his lats starting to react so he spreads them. The tingling sensation makes him squirm as he hears them stretching, growing bigger, thicker, wider. His back cracks making his spine stretch. He can feel himself getting taller. He yells as his traps make an explosive sound and start growing bigger and bigger making him have to put his hands on the floor to handle the extreme changes. He hears multiple pops moving down his back as the muscle fibers around his spine swell and stretch growing massive. The area at his lower back stretches tighter making his waist look smooth and fibrous. The blood is now moving further down into his pelvic region. He tries to stand up, but the weight of his upper body prevents it so he just stares into the mirror while on his knees. He rises up enough to pull down his boxers to where he can see his pelvis. The fat pocket that was there before has disappeared revealing tighter almost veiny muscles that are pulling his pubic hairs out. He feels his ass starting to thicken even more. His hard butt is stretching further away from his body. He turns to his side and sees his boxers being stretched to their limits. Each individual seam is literally being pulled apart by his growing ass cheeks. His boxers eventually fall off of him revealing his throbbing cock now engorged with blood. It is hairless now with his transformation. He can feel more blood moving down insides his legs into his quads, hamstrings, and calves. The anticipation makes him start growling uncontrollably. He loves the feeling he gets when he works his quads anyway and this will heighten his pleasure. Each individual muscle fiber in his quads have started to pop and pull their way up and out swelling up even more. He feels both quads stretching, growing further outwards getting thicker. His cock immediately points up at the mirror and squirts a huge rope of precum on to the mirror. He moans as his hamstrings swell bigger and bigger pushing him further off the ground. He is able to stand now and take in the rest of his changes. Now his calves have started to react, stretching further beyond his fibulas. They grow to nearly twice their size and glisten in the light. It doesn’t stop here as the blood finally meets up with his feet while he is still wearing his flip-flops. He looks down to watch his toes swell thickening up and crushing his footwear. The change is almost complete as he growls staring at all of his new equipment. He feels incredibly horny after this incredible experience and feels all kinds of tingling sensations starting at the base of his cock. A C was decently equipped to begin with, but with his massive growth, his penis suddenly looks smaller. The tingling moves into his ballsac making him squeal in delight. It feels so good that he wants to cum a thousand times, but can’t do so. He watches in the mirror as his testicles start filling out and growing bigger making more veins and capillaries to accommodate their new size. His sack is now stretched tight where it was loose before. He can feel the overwhelming sensation of his prostate being stimulated by his testicles creating more cum. He shoots another rope of precum coating the mirror again. He wipes it with his huge hand and gives it a taste before moaning. The blood inside his penis finally makes its move and begins to transform it. After hearing it pop, A C agonizes as his cock starts to stretch and thicken getting wider and harder than before. He can feel it lengthen from the inside added several inches. He was never hung before, but after this change, his cock can now bob up and down with each contraction. Raging with sexual lust and power, A C wants more as his mind intensifies its need for additional stimulation. He continues to leak more precum into huge puddles on the floor in front of him. The sequence he just went through must have added at least 50 pounds to his 260 pound frame. While he has been able to channel his emotions well, his need for more muscle is stronger than ever. He manages to get back into position in front of the mirror and does a most muscular. The veins and arteries on his entire body start to bulge and fill up with extra blood. He senses the hair on his body beginning to grow back. It starts on his head and moves its way all the way down. The bristling sound it makes sends him into another round of ecstasy. His reddish brown body hair comes back in thicker than ever covering everything. He strokes it lovingly as he looks at the dark reddish brown facial hair forming a beard on his face. He smirks noticing how perfect it looks on his chiseled face. His eyes have even changed to a golden brown color which he admires. He feels the short stubbly hair on his head and glides his huge hands across it looking at its red tinted tips. He finds himself incredibly attractive at this point, but he can’t help but to want more. He rubs his hands together to prep himself for the next phase. A C takes a deep breath and tenses his body. He flexes his neck and chest like he is trying to lift a car and looks up in the air. His 6’5 frame starts to make sounds that he has never heard before. He yells in pain as he feels himself growing taller again this time moving faster than before. His huge back pops multiple times making him rise higher and higher. His voice is now getting ridiculously deep as it rumbles the walls in his bedroom. They shake to the point that anything on them falls to the ground. His pain goes beyond what he is feeling now and instead is replaced by constant tingling. His normal human proportions are going to end if he doesn’t stop. He goes past the 7’ mark and realizes that he no longer cares if his house exists anymore. He reaches his hulking arms out to touch the side walls that are now getting closer and closer. His hunger makes him shoot the load sitting in his growing balls on to the mirror. It falls and shatters into hundreds of pieces. His muscles continue to stretch and pull their way out further from where they were before. He laughs as his growing frame runs into his bed pushing it towards the wall. He knocks over the lamp on his side table and puts his fist through it. It is like paper crumbling as the drawers disintegrate and the underwear inside it just goes flying everywhere. His bed finally reaches a wall and starts to buckle making the wood start to split. It finally breaks as his immense chest goes through it. He feels himself getting close to the ceiling which means he has to be close to 8’ now and nearly 600 pounds. The floorboards in his bedroom start to break under his weight. He can’t help but to shoot another massive load hitting the back wall and putting a giant hole in it. Incredibly he is still coherent inside his gigantic muscular head. He wants desperately to bust through a wall or maybe the ceiling. His growth seems to have stopped too as the strange sounds have ceased. A C is practically immobile since he is now underneath the floorboards. He tries to climb out of his trench, but just breaks more in his path. This makes him a tad irritated even though he wanted this more than anything. He starts making his way over to the corner of the room busting up every floorboard and piece of furniture in his way. A C grabs a hold of the bottom edge of the corner and starts lifting up. His 35” cannons flex making beach balls look small. He feels the side of the room starting to creak as he pushes the house away from the foundation. The walls begin to fall apart as he hears his bedroom windows starting to break. This makes him start to precum again as his two foot schlong lies in a giant puddle of goo. He roars as he launches the wall up into the air sending debris everywhere in his yard. His bedroom is almost nearly destroyed except for the closet on the other side of the room. He attempts to run towards it making a path all the way there under the floor. He manages to get underneath the carpet beneath his entire closet to get his gargantuan back into position. When he is ready, he moves up on it like he is using his closet as a press. The sound of wood and nails breaking and flying is heard through the neighborhood. He growls as he is able to detach the entire closet and throws it down. The feeling is enough to make him moan as his cock sprays the grass now in front of his massive feet. He remembers that his house is not on the foundation anymore and attempts to push it completely off. A C manages to get free from under the floor and waddles over to the corner where his kitchen is on the outside of the house. He puts all of his strength into it and starts moving it. The sound of stuff crashing through the house is enough to make him growl as he watches his one story house crumbling with each inch he moves it. He can’t help but to be aroused uncontrollably by this. He shoots multiple ropes of hot sticky cum all over the siding showing his dominance. He wonders what will happen now though since he just destroyed his own house. What will the neighbors think? Check out the sequel story here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7751-hypnosis-does-more-than-one-body-good/
  25. First Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1131-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-one/ Previous Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1974-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-eight/ CHAPTER NINE Terry’s office was in an older but well maintained professional building on East 67th. I had been there several times before, especially when we were dating, but this time I was hyper-aware of everything as we approached his office – the cars parked along the street, the trees planted in cutouts on the sidewalk, the pedestrians heading to lunch or appointments. One truck was in front of us, but no vehicles were behind us. I chalked this up to my self-consciousness at being unclothed in public. No, that wasn’t right. I couldn’t care less who saw me naked, what I didn’t want was to cause an accident. Hank dropped us off at the entrance of the ten-story brick and stone building right as a nearby church bell announced the noon hour. I slid the van’s door shut and made a beeline for the double door. “I have an appointment with Doctor Berman on six,” I said casually to the young man at the security desk. He gawked but didn’t respond. We passed a few people between the door and the elevator, which fortunately happened to be opening. An older woman exited the car and screamed briefly, but I ignored her. Matt and I entered. He had already pressed 6 when the doors closed. “That went pretty well,” he said. “I should at least have some type of wrap made for my waist.” “Why?” I smiled and kissed him. “I don’t want to give some poor blue hair a heart attack.” “They’ll get used to it,” he said. “It’s not like they have a choice.” The elevator opened and we walked to the double doors of Terry’s suite at the end of the hall. I had warned him to send his staff home and cancel his appointments and this was the moment of truth. As I slid sideways through the one open door into his waiting room, the head of my semi-flaccid cock slapped against the other, which was locked closed. It shuddered as if someone had punched it. Matt followed me in. “No damage,” he said. “Hey, Terry,” I called out. “I’m here.” The room was empty. A sign on the reception desk informed anyone that dropped by that he was only available for emergencies. The door to the inner part of his suite opened. “Hey there,” he said in his booming voice. He then looked at me, blinked twice and as his eyes rolled back in his head, collapsed to the floor. “Geez, are all of your friends huge?” Matt asked as he rushed forward to check on Terry. I shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve always been a magnet for big bottoms.” “I’m not a big bottom.” “Good point,” I said. “And Hank is very happy about that.” Terry was bleeding from where his head hit the doorknob, but was otherwise fine. I carried him into one of his exam rooms and Matt tended to the wound. Terry was a big guy. He wasn’t lean like Carlos or Hank, but at six foot four and 280 or so pounds he certainly qualified as huge. Big, bearded and bearish, he looked more like a lumberjack than a general practitioner. “He’s beautiful,” Matt said as he held an ice pack against the back of his head. “Yep,” I agreed. “That he is. I was quite taken with him.” “What happened?” “I’m going to walk around,” I said. “Stay here with him and bring him up to date before he sees me again. You can ask him what happened.” I slipped through the doorway sideways and followed the short hallway to the fourth and last examination room where he kept the scale for his morbidly obese patients. This room had a curtain instead of a door so extra large people could easily pass through. I certainly qualified as extra large. I stepped onto the digital scale, which fortunately had a wall-mounted LCD display, and waited a moment. It read 517.1 pounds. My weight had more than doubled in three days; my height had increased by about five inches. I was carrying far more muscle than any human before – probably twice as much as Hank, one of the most muscular men on the planet. My muscle was larger, denser, stronger. Suddenly, I longed for a mirror to admire myself in and as I imagined how I appeared to those around me, my cock began to swell until it had returned to its preferred size – maximum. In seconds it was a mammoth, throbbing hard-as-steel weapon, welded to my hard-as-steel body, thrusting forward, curving upward so that the head was at a 45-degree angle to the floor, already oozing copious amounts of pre-cum. Although my immense pectorals had grown overnight along with everything else and blocked additional inches of my cock from my view, it had lengthened and thickened as well. I grabbed it with both of my still-larger and more powerful hands, gasping with pleasure at my own touch, squeezing the pulsing shaft as tightly as I could with a grip that I already knew could effortlessly crush hardened steel. I was awestruck that my cock was so hard that even I was unable to dent it despite my own strength, which was unimaginable after only three days. I leaned forward and tilted my chin into my cleavage so that I could see more of the massive tool and gasped again at its perfection and beauty, now sixteen inches of male magnificence that spurted my limitless pre-cum. I released my cock and watched it resume bouncing with each throb even while my hands turned their attention to my gigantic pecs, feeling the thick hairs that covered the enormous square slabs, so shredded that I could feel each bundle of muscle fiber on the surface of the huge mound, which I somehow knew were individually far more powerful than even the entire chest of the strongest power lifter. Hank’s statement from earlier in the day had to be accurate. I couldn’t possibly be human anymore. It was the first time I had allowed myself to consider it, but the conclusion was inescapable. Human flesh was not harder than steel. Human hair burned. Humans didn’t convert energy to matter as I apparently did. I had become ... something else ... but a god? It was the only explanation. Everyone, everyone, wished to worship and/or submit to me on sight. They could sense what I was, even as I continued to struggle with it. “I am a god.” I said aloud as if that would help convince me. “So Matt tells me.” I heard Terry say and I turned my head enough to see him pass through the curtain with Matt. They both took one look at me and fell to their knees. Terry’s eyes had glazed over and Matt leaned forward on his hands. Still on the scale’s platform, I turned to face them with my hands on my hips. “May we worship you?” Matt asked. My beautiful boy had not even finished his sentence when cum exploded from my pounding tool, which spasmed wildly, spraying my jism in all directions, coating the curtain, floor and ceiling, not to mention the willing slaves who knelt on the floor before me. Gallon after gallon of cum spewed from my tool for several minutes as imagined myself growing still larger, stronger and more muscular, my cock yet longer and thicker and more powerful. I looked down at the handsome, awestruck faces of the two men and smiled. “Of course you may,” I said even as my spunk continued to flow unabated. Yet after a moment I willed my cock to rest and the sound of my thick, heavy jism splattering the room diminished. They crawled forward and I allowed them to feel my immense brawn, to service my huge cock and orange-sized balls. For several long minutes I enjoyed the caress of their hands and lips as they explored my immense musculature, smiling with satisfaction as they traced the innumerable striations with complete awe. But we needed to move on. “That’s enough,” I said with some regret. Hank would be returning for us. They stopped – both had spontaneously blown their wads a few times anyway – and I offered my hands to them. “Stand.” Terry, his professional hat back on, began examining me and recounted what Matt had told him of the past three days. It was accurate, and I just nodded and clarified a few points for him. As Terry worked, Matt also looked at me closely, inspecting me in a more detached, scientific way than he had before. He even whipped out his iPhone and snapped a few pictures of my face and entire body. “What are those for?” I asked. “I’ll show you when Terry is finished,” he said mischievously. “If I’m right, he’s going to need a drink.” “A drink?” my doctor and old friend said in his solid, rich voice. “More like a bottle of Valium. If you hadn’t already told me what to expect, I would be unconscious on the floor.” “You already did that,” I said. “Oh, right,” he said. “Well, here’s the deal, and if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I’d never have believed it. In fact, I’m still expecting to wake up at any moment, but I digress.” He stepped back and sat on a stool. “You are right at six foot three now,” Terry continued. “I checked your file and just as I remembered, you used to be a bit under five ten. Now your weight is, well, you already know this because you were standing on the scale, but...” He paused and shook his head. “521 pounds, and don’t even ask me to explain the gallons of semen that you released. Matt told me his theory as to how you were creating it and growing, but I wouldn’t even know how to begin to test that.” 521 pounds - almost four pounds of additional matter had appeared from nowhere in the past hour or so in addition to all of the cum. “There isn’t a trace of the scars from 9/11, in fact, your hair and skin look like a flawless version of the real thing, but I am unable to scrape off a sample. You’re not breathing, as Matt already warned me, but you do have a pulse. Wait – when was the last time you urinated or had a bowel movement?” I had already been thinking about that. “Sunday. At home when I had the seizure I called you about.” He shook his head. I could tell he was disgusted, not because of me, but simply because I was challenging everything known to science. “But you produce sweat and,” he motioned to the half of the room that I had slimed. “Semen. Insane quantities of semen.” He looked at Matt. “Hey, would you mind collecting some samples of his semen? There are specimen containers in the cabinet to the left of the sink. I’m thinking around ten.” “Sure,” Matt said as he sprang into action. “Mind if I help you with the tests?” “Not at all, do you have lab experience?” “Oh,” Matt began. “Sorry, I didn’t tell you anything about myself. Yeah, I’m a vet.” “Perfect.” He turned back to me. “You okay with that?” “Hell yeah. I’m at least as curious as you are.” “I know this isn’t something anyone ever asks you,” Terry said. “But would you mind bending over?” I laughed and complied as Terry leaned forward to examine my butt. “Son of a bitch,” he said. “I sure as hell wasn’t expecting this. Could you pull your glutes apart?” “Checking my prostate?” I joked as I reached back and spread my cheeks. “Christ,” he said. “Son of a bitch! Jamal, your anus is gone. GONE. Not a trace one was ever there. I don’t fucking believe it.” He sat down heavily on the stool. “I think I could use that drink now.” I felt out of control again and broke out in a cold sweat. “That makes two of us.” Dr. Berman had put me in touch with the paramedic, Carl Washington, who had brought me in. Carl agreed to meet me at Grand Central Terminal for lunch and tell me what he knew about Karen’s death. After Dr. Berman’s initial call, I found it impossible to sleep. The events of that day replayed in my mind repeatedly and despite its futility, I continually second-guessed my actions. How had I failed? What could I have done differently? The puncture wounds in my back were so great I almost bled to death. Why did I live? Why did she die? Each time I replayed her kissing my cheek I wanted to cry. She had thanked me for nothing... After several days, my doctor prescribed anti-anxiety and sleeping meds. They helped, but I knew that if I was going to move on, I needed some answers. It was mid-November when I finally met Carl in the dining concourse of Grand Central, and the gloomy weather matched the city’s mood. New York had been hit hard. Its stride was broken. I may have been depressed, but the entire city remained in a state of shock. Carl told me that Karen and I had been found next to each other. She was face up. I was face down with my left leg and arm over her. The coroner’s autopsy revealed major bruising and some crushing injuries to her lower legs. Blood clots had formed in one of them. She died of a pulmonary embolism. I asked if my moving her around had dislodged the clot. He said I was speculating pointlessly. “Even if an EMT had been with you when you found her, there is no guarantee they could have saved her,” Carl said to me. “You can stop blaming yourself, okay?” “Easier said than done,” I said. “Yeah, I know.” He put his elbows on the table, closed his eyes and cradled his head in his hands. “Look, this has us all messed up. I still lose it every time I see a jet.” I looked down at the table as well. “I keep having nightmares of people falling out of the sky and buildings collapsing.” He shook his head. “This is some fucked up shit, man,” he said. “My wife dreams about people jumping from buildings.” He looked at me and sighed. “I think I could use a drink.” “That makes two of us.” * * * Matt worked at Terry’s computer as Terry and I cleaned up my mess in the exam room, though even as we wiped everything down and mopped the floor, pre-cum continued to ooze from my rock hard cock. The endless stream of semen had grown tiresome. “I wish I could just shut it off but I can’t,” I said. “The only time I don’t leak is when I’m soft and that’s not very often.” “If you had gotten a PA like I suggested years ago you could just hang a bucket from it. Problem solved.” “Funny,” I said sarcastically. “Or maybe I could order a team of slaves to follow me around and lick it up as I go.” Terry stopped mopping and looked at me. “What?” I asked. “I just realized that if you asked me to do that, I would.” I nodded. “Yeah. I know you would. It’s freaky.” He looked at me and frowned. “You’re not being arrogant about it either.” I had never understood arrogance. Things were what they were. In only a few days I had developed into a god among men, a transformation that showed no sign of slowing. What was the point of boasting about the obvious? “It’s not his style,” Matt said as he joined us. “I’m done. Want to take a look?” We followed him into Terry’s office, which was every bit as Spartan and organized as I remembered it. We stood behind him as he sat down at the desk. “Okay, before I show this to you, I want to explain something. Terry will already know about it and based on the titles I saw on your bookshelf, you might too, Jamal. It’s called bilateral symmetry.” “Most animals are bilaterally symmetrical,” Terry said. “Along the sagittal plane. At least superficially.” “Our left side is a mirror image of our right?” I said. I was pretty sure I remembered this from high school biology. “Exactly,” Matt said. “Or most accurately, not exactly. Take a look.” Matt opened a photograph of his face that Terry had taken before we started cleaning. “Now look carefully,” he said as he overlaid a grid over the image. “My right eye is slightly higher than my left. Can you see it?” I could. In fact, I could see it very clearly although I had never noticed it before. “Now watch this,” he said. Matt opened a second image next to the original. It depicted the left side of his face folded over the right. “Here you can see all kinds of irregularities, if you will. My eyes, my mouth, my ears. This extends to the entire body. Our left and right sides are not perfect mirror images of each other.” He closed the images and pulled up one of Terry. “Here you can see the same thing, though Terry is a bit more symmetrical than I am, damn him.” He looked back at Terry and winked. Matt closed the photo of Terry. “Now, this is Jamal’s face from someone’s Flickr collection,” he said. I recognized it from a photo shoot I had posed for a year ago. “You were very symmetrical. Even more so than Terry.” He closed the image and brought up another. “But you can see here that the sides of your face didn’t match up perfectly.” “Didn’t, you say, as in past tense,” Terry observed. “Right,” Matt confirmed as he pulled up the photos he had taken of me that afternoon. “Because now, at least to the degree the camera is accurate, he is perfectly symmetrical. His face, his body, everything. The reason he is supernaturally, almost painfully beautiful is not just his ultra-manly appearance and extreme muscularity. Jamal is physically perfect. No flaws.” Terry turned from the screen and looked at me with a mixture of fear and awe. I shrugged, trying to play it down despite my extreme excitement as I listened to his words. A surge of power flowed into my fully erect cock, causing it to grow still larger and harder even as I closed my eyes and attempted to suppress spraying another massive load in Terry’s office. I no longer needed additional evidence to prove my godhood to myself, yet it continued to pour in. My suddenly acute awareness of my endlessly growing magnificence created a euphoric rush that threated to spiral out of control. Pre-cum was already spurting from my piss slit and I knew that if I didn’t distract myself quickly, I would create the largest mess yet. I’ve got to get out of here, I thought. But what I actually said was – “Where is the building’s electrical?” This surprised me because since entering the building I was keenly aware that I was growing too big for standard interior dimensions. I felt I was too big, yet another part of me, the part that appeared three days ago and considered me the Alpha Stud of the planet, the part that thought of everyone as my willing slave, the part that knew that all of humanity would worship me – that part felt I wasn’t yet big or powerful enough. * * * Matt remained in Terry’s suite and began working on the samples he had collected while Terry took me down to the basement. Getting the keys from the building engineer on duty was a snap once Terry called him to his suite and he saw me. We left him groveling on the floor in the hallway as a wet spot grew on the fabric of his pants. I remained conflicted as we entered the electrical room. My shoulders were so wide that it was a challenge to navigate within buildings. My cock was already too large to reasonably fuck anyone with. Yet the orgasmic rush I received from feeding and growing was so great I couldn’t imagine ever giving it up. If there was a limit to how powerful I could become, I knew I hadn’t reached it yet and as long as I could grow, I would. I looked at the set up. I wasn’t an electrician, but estimated that the building had 480-volt, 6,000 amp service. My cock began spasming with excitement as I reached up and grasped the pipe that held the wiring from the service drop. I paused. “There isn’t any life-supporting equipment or surgery performed in this building, is there?” “No,” Terry said. “And the generators will kick in anyway for critical things.” “Good.” I pulled the pipe from the main panel and peeled the protective steel tubing away from the wiring as if it were plastic wrap. I then ripped the wires apart, which plunged the room into darkness. As promised, I could hear a diesel generator rumble to life and an emergency light illuminated the cinderblock room. “Good god,” Terry said. I looked at Terry and winked. “I hope so,” I said before pulling the insulation from the copper wiring and tossing it aside. Finally, I wrapped the bare metal wires around my pounding cock and moaned in pleasure as the current flowed into me. Next Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2642-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-ten/