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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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  1. THE STORY SO FAR - Stephan is a police officer with a very well-endowed boyfriend, Tom. But Stephan's sex addiction to sex leads to him losing his job - and breaking up with from Tom. While staying with his parents in a quiet corner of London, Stephan observes something exciting: an alpha muscle Beast humiliating a fluffy, gentle, weak young beta called Olly. Now, the Beast is helping Olly grow - and it's happening at an impossible rate: muscle, height, cock, hair, character. Where will it end? Hakan's new boss/lover wants to see how far Olly pushes Stephan and vice versa. Tom is still sexting Stephan at night. And when Olly tries to get Stephan started at his gym, it seems a very mysterious set-up, perhaps run exclusively by gay men: but why? Chapter 9 is here. 10 Olly Friday October 5th 'You've changed...' Everybody's saying it suddenly. But is it true? Here I am in the same room in the same house that I wrote this diary in, in January and in July. These are the same hands that wrote it, though less delicate somewhat (in a spot of anger the other day, I snapped my biro), and although I had to cut off my charity bands and friendship bracelet (the one Sophie gave me, that night in midsummer) it was out of necessity, not bad feeling or trying to forget. I'd still support those charities, I still want that friendship. I still listen to Green Day, even if I split their band t-shirt open in a sweaty tangle the other, while I was hyper-pumped from shoulder presses and barbell curls. I still read New Scientist's updates religiously every morning. I still think, hey, I could get a job at one of the big observatories. In fact, I can't think of a more perfect life than just working out, eating big, staring at the stars and learning more about them. The essentials. I can see myself there in thirty years time, thinking just the same things. Fuck, how big will I be by that time...? 'You've changed.' Sophie said it in a text. It was her last word on the subject. She wants us to have a trial separation, or get some air, or something prim and proper that's just masking the fact she doesn't want me in her life any more. She can't come out with it, she can't get down to the essentials the way I can. She's so nice about it, so sweet and gentle, and it drives me mad. If that's the way I used to be, back when I was little and fluffy and thought crunches were something you ate with a dip, well, I'm glad that I've changed. She just wanted to talk, not cuddle. Then she was persuaded that cuddling was 'nice'. Then she got curious about feeling how big my arms had got: could she fit both hands around one (duh, no), and she wanted to see how massive my abs are now. She wanted to see how I can make my pecs dance to any song she could think of (she chose an Ed Sheeran song, naturally). She was asking what it is that makes a guy get hairy. She knew she was getting me hot. I knew she was getting wet. Then she wants to fuck. Of course, she wants to fuck. She does a double-take when I release the Anaconda, but then she gets a smile on her face. She's so excited about my size, in every possible way. Suddenly, something in sweet, little Miss Perfect is set free. I know all the family are downstairs getting dinner ready, I know they can all hear me and it's not what nice middle class twenty-one year olds do, but I've got the red mist and she's on heat. The pair of us are going at it like a couple of animals. She's practically falling off the bed, she's got her fists bunched in my beard to hold herself in position, I'm basically tearing her nice, tasteful blouse apart to get at her, I'm getting my tongue everywhere, I'm ripping up her panties and lifting her up so that her lady garden is there on my slobbery, blonde bushy chin, up to my lips, and I'm working my fingers inside her arse. She deserves everything I can give her. If my brother did come to the door, the way I imagined him doing, he must have thought it was a scene out of 10,000,000 BC. I was devoting myself to her like she was a goddess and I was a goatherd living in the wilderness. Or a donkey boy, I guess. That's what she called me, as she came the second time (of five). She was like this new girl, begging me to do her like one animal does another -- but apparently that's my fault. Apparently I made that happen, just because I work out now. Just because I show her what life's really all about. After we both came a few times, I had to head straight out to the gym for my evening routine. Maybe that's what she didn't like. Where does she think her he-man got his stuff...? I've changed, apparently. And she can't take me. 'You've changed!' When the Beast says it, it's a good thing. That doesn't make it any less significant. He said it this morning. He gave a slow whistle, and he laughed. We were coming straight out of the gym, after a hard round of work. God, but my whole body was exhausted, every muscle aching, pulsing, throbbing: sweat was streaming down our backs, pecs, thighs. My arms were feeling especially jacked — I couldn't bend one enough to scratch an itch on my own shoulder — and he was checking out his own massive boulder shoulders. 'I have to capture this moment, bro,' he said, getting out his phone. 'Come on, shoulder to shoulder. Dude, you finally caught me up.' And he snapped us in the mirror, like a pair of giants, one fair, one dark. One of them who is now just slightly, even more ripped, even wider, even taller, than the other. But out of politeness I didn't like to point this out. 'Shit just got real,' he said, showing me the picture. 'You gonna put that on the site?' I said, resisting the urge to point out my slight advantage. Maybe the strangers who comment on there would point it out for him. 'Muscle Worshippers?' I laughed. 'You're not obsessed with any other website.' That's when he gave me that look. 'You've changed, bro,' he said, and laughed. 'You can say that again,' I said, running my hands over my taut physique. 'I'm twice the boy I used to be. I'm five times!' 'Yeah, that's the obvious stuff,' he said. 'You got the goods. Anyone can see that. But something more. You like to show it off now, don't you?' 'Hey,' I said. 'It's not vanity. I worked hard for this.' 'Like a shire horse,' he said. 'But admit it. You get a kick out of it.' 'Not like you,' I said, turning away to mask my hard-on. 'Maybe,' he grinned. 'Dude, I love to see those poofters pop a boner in the group showers, just because I've come in. I'm like a god to them. I love it. Did I tell you I got paid to appear at this special club the other day?' 'No way. What for?' 'Nothing really,' he said. 'It was at this pub over in East London. I haven't told anybody else this.' 'Go on,' I said, chugging down my protein shake. He sat down beside me on the bench and lowered his voice. 'They contacted me via the website. Well, you can send private messages. Normally it's stuff about how inferior they are, how they want me to come and piss on them, or just let them wank off while I watch. Oh, and then there's at least one every couple of days from a guy who wants me to fuck his girlfriend.' My eyes went saucer-wide. 'What? Why?' 'Duh, man. Because they get off on it!' I laughed. 'The world's gone mad.' 'Yeah, I know. I've thought about it, but I think — well, it would interfere with my regime. And Estelle might take it the wrong way. Anyway, this special club meets in this pub, The Black Swan. They have blinds over all the windows, and lights like some nightclub, and there's a stage. And that's where they have me.' 'What,' I said, 'like, making a speech?' 'You are green, aren't you?' He began peeling off his shorts. 'They get me up there in a posing pouch. I show off what I've got.' He balled up his jockey shorts, sodden with sweat, and threw them in his kit bag. My mouth was dry, picturing him doing it. 'Like a stripper?' 'Well, more tasteful than that, of course,' he said. 'Plus, all I take off is my posing pouch. Hardly a routine.' He licked his lips. 'The thing they're really interested in is my strength, my power, my size. I let them have a bit of a feel. Of my guns, that is.' 'You don't get your cock out, then?' I joked, but I must have said it too loud because he looked round wildly, then laughed at himself. 'Well,' he said, 'when they're so enthusiastic, it's a shame to disappoint. And my wang's never disappointed anyone. Look at it. Like a rolled up newspaper!' He leapt up and waggled it in my face, his fist full of pink sweaty meat. 'Urgh! Fuck off!' I yelled, laughing. He stopped waggling, and just stood there with his hands on his hips, waiting for me to undress too. 'And now you're thinking of Muscle Worshippers too.' 'Shall we get in those showers?' I said. 'But,' he said, 'you're thinking of it?' 'Not me,' I said. Now that I think of it, the gay police guy who's always eyeing me up, Stephan, he said the same thing again. Like he ever had any idea what I'm like. The only time he ever spoke to me was that day I first met Nico, and he was so nice and kind and reassuring. All he wanted was my skinny arse. He liked it when he was a couple of feet taller than me, when he was the stronger guy, the hairier guy, the bigger man. And yeah, maybe he liked it at first when I started to change. He would always stop for a chat, always compliment me on my gains. I used to look forward to it. Even when I realised he fancied me, I was cool with that. I even took him to the gym. Hooked him up with Doctor O. I was looking forward to training with him. I knew he'd appreciate the amount of hard work I was putting in. I knew he'd want me even worse, if he saw me like I am in the gym, my veins standing out, my muscle pumped up and hard. And I guess he'd train with me, he'd get bigger. I was looking forward to seeing what he made of himself. Yeah, I suppose I really thought a lot of Stephan. In he came this lunchtime, and pretended to borrow some books. I know he doesn't care what he's taking out. I can see in his eyes, all he wants is some time looking me over, checking out how much mass I've gained since I last saw him. 'Whoa,' he said, adjusting his glasses. 'Hey dude,' I said, going through the motions with his books. 'Your boss really lets you dress like that?' he said. 'At work?' I looked down at myself. Another gym singlet. Once upon a time it would have been loose on me, but now it's stretched tight, and my chest stands pretty much proud of it. It's like a cotton breastplate or something. I laughed. 'He understands. I've gone through my whole wardrobe now. Nothing fits any more.' 'Perhaps I should lend you something.' 'No, don't worry,' I said, quickly. 'I mean, look at me.' He could hardly stop. 'Yes,' he said, 'I suppose it's true. You'd never fit in anything I've got now. Even my actual wardrobe would probably strain.' I smiled at his joke, but I was feeling slightly embarrassed. He used to be the ultimate alpha male, tall and strong and ex-police, and now look at him — dwarfed by a guy who's barely out of his teens. He didn't deserve to be made to feel small. I handed him back his books, wondering what to say. He suddenly cleared his throat, sort of decisively. 'Olly,' he said, 'What about that arm wrestle you promised me?' I didn't know what to say, and we both burst out laughing. 'Are you serious?' I said. I mean, he's in okay shape, but he's not packing even half the horse power up my sleeves. It was like he was asking for a smack-down. 'Maybe,' he said, 'Maybe not. But how do you feel about meeting up after work? I'll buy you a drink to celebrate your latest — growth spurt.' I lowered my gaze shyly. 'That's kind of you, man, but I don't drink alcohol. It's bad for my regime.' 'Well, an orange juice, then,' he said. 'You can't refuse that. At the Crown and Greyhound, six o'clock.' I guess I liked the idea of it. Especially after I saw a couple of the lads last week and things didn't go the way I planned. Fucking jealous little pricks. They wouldn't say anything outright but I saw it in their eyes. Couldn't believe I was the same person. Just because I've got something real and serious in my life now — just because I'm working hard at something. Just because each them wishes their forearm was even the size of my dick. Well, if the old crowd are going to be that way, it's good to have a friend, and it's especially good to have a friend like him — a real man. He may be a poof, but he's got balls. At least, that's how I felt this afternoon. Anyway, I could tell he had something to talk to me about. 'Olly,' he said, getting straight to the point. 'What's all this for?' I nearly spat out my OJ. 'The fuck, dude?' I said. 'Okay, okay,' he said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. 'It was just a question. This has happened so fast, son. One minute you're a cute — okay, a sweet, normal-looking guy. Daniel Radcliffe lookalike. You wouldn't be able to carry a weights set home from Argos, let alone lift them. An average lad. Fast forward a few months... You're one of the biggest, strongest, most physically powerful guys I've ever seen in the flesh. You're hairier than I'll ever be. And as for your confidence -' I suppressed a smile at his words. He went on. 'Months ago you had these skinny arms, more baby fat than muscle. Now, each of your biceps is bigger than my head. Your chest is just fucking ridiculous. You've gone from being a kitten to a big, fucking jungle cat, Olly — the way you move, the way you look at people, the weight of you...' 'It's who I really am,' I told him, lifting my singlet to show him the thick corrugated ridges of my abs. I saw his eyes start out of his head. Luckily, we were sitting in the beer garden, and nobody was around to think it gay. 'I was always this big guy on the inside.' 'But where does it stop?' I brushed my fringe out of my eyes. 'It doesn't have to stop. I just keep getting bigger and I keep getting stronger. I get broader, thicker, heavier, more cut, more vascular. My appetite for muscle grows every day.' 'Doesn't that scare you?' 'No,' I said, downing the rest of my orange juice and slamming it onto the pub table. 'Well...' I didn't know what to say. I looked at my gorilla sized hand around the glass. 'Maybe a bit. But it's hard to tell if it's fear or just excitement. I'm becoming something amazing. It's the biggest turn on, man.' He took that in, then did a deep breath through his nostrils. 'What do your friends say?' 'You mean the weak little pussies I used to hang out with or the guys at the gym?' He considered. 'Whoever your friends are, I suppose.' 'My real friends support me. They tell me how great I'm looking, but they also see how much further I have to go.' 'I want to know that you're healthy. You've grown so fast. I'd like a friend of mine to take a look at you,' he said. I squeezed my cock, secretly, below the table. 'Really.' 'Not — like that,' he said hastily. 'He's a doctor.' 'I work with a Doctor,' I said, impatiently, as if this whole thing was too much effort — which it was. I wasn't expecting to be interrogated. I just thought he'd be getting off on my size, like normal. 'Yes,' he said. 'Doctor O. I've, ahem, encountered him.' 'Then you should understand,' I said. 'It's hypertrophy, Steve. It's natural. Scientific.' I put my hands behind my head as if I was just relaxing, as if I didn't realise how it showed me off. Behind his glasses I could see his eyes following the lines of my triceps, my biceps, my lats, flicking back to my eyes constantly, hoping I wouldn't notice. 'Lift heavy, rest hard, eat big...' 'Does the Doctor give you supplements?' 'Just his protein shake,' I said. 'I'll show you. No steroids. No drugs. I wouldn't be so fucking proud of myself if that's all it took.' I put the flask on the pub table. Stephan wrinkled his nose. 'But why is he doing this with you?' 'The same reason you want me to,' I said. 'And what's that?' 'To see my full potential,' I said. Slowly I took the cotton of the singlet between my fingers and thumbs and I ripped it down the middle, unveiling the might of me, the sweaty dark hair of me, the meat of me, the stink of me. Stephan was watching, lower lip trembling. 'To see all the stuff a young lad hides while he stays small. To feel just a little inferior. Unless you want to come and train with me, take me on...?' 'Chance would be a fine thing,' he said, seemingly entranced by my body. 'I got in touch with Doctor O. I wanted to know he has your best interests at heart. And you know what? He warned me off.' I licked my fingertips and began glossing up my nipples. 'That's bullshit.' He was breathing deep now, trying to keep his composure. 'He doesn't want me to come near you any more, Stephan. He's experimenting on you. He's trying to create some sort of a — muscle beast.' 'Mission accomplished.' I flicked a finger against my squeezed bicep to show him how solid it was. 'Why won't you listen to me?' he snarled. He raised his hand: it would have been threatening if he hadn't been so much smaller than me. 'Stop acting like some muscle worshipping size queen. I saw you before you got into all....this.' He gestured at my abs, my thighs, my packet, my shoulders. 'Come on, Olly. You're bigger than this!' 'That's not how it works,' I told him, leaning across the table. 'Look at us now. This is a battle. And I've got all the power.' 'You really have changed,' he said. Bang, there it was. 'If that's true,' I said, 'it's for the best.' He stretched out with his hand, and I almost flinched, thinking he was going to try and land a punch on me, but instead he cupped his hand around my left pectoral. He squeezed it. I tensed it so he could see just how granite solid it was. I suddenly realised there was sweat on his brow. I could feel the moisture on his fingertips: he ran one softly over my left nipple. My tree-trunk dick throbbed in my jeans, longing to be set free. 'Dude,' I breathed, 'I like girls. You know that.' He released me. 'I just had to know what it felt like.' I took his hand in mine and pressed it to the table. With the other hand I reached under the table and rubbed my cock, longing for it to calm down. I love to feel the head of my semi, outlined through my jeans like the big round top of a freshly baked muffin. 'I get looks off guys all the time now. In the changing rooms, the library, the street, all the time. But this isn't about sex. This is about power.' 'That reminds me,' he said. 'How about this arm wrestle?' I burst out laughing. All the tension was gone. 'You really wanna be punished, don't you?' 'Hey,' he said, 'Never heard of David and Goliath?' I took one of his hands in my enormous mitt. I could feel the weight of him at the other end, could feel him take the strain. I decided to go easy on him. I screwed up my face and pushed, ever so gently. I felt him wrestling back against me with all his might. It was comical. The veins were popping out on his neck, and every fibre of muscle in his police sergeant forearm was pushing against me, and I was barely even trying. I loved this. If being praised for my gains was foreplay, this was like sex! A low guttural moan of pleasure came unexpectedly from the back of my throat. This seemed to prompt him into making more noise. 'Oh yeah,' he said, his teeth gritted, his hand wet with perspiration. 'Oh yeah, oh yeah.' I shook my head. 'You really want it, don't you?' I said. He looked into my eyes. 'Give me everything,' he said. I whirled him out of his seat. Effortlessly. A big guy but I flipped him like a pancake. He landed on the floor with a grunt. I got up and went over and stood over him. 'What's up, little man?' I said. 'Still want to complain about what a giant I am?' He leapt up and put both arms around my neck, tugging me to the ground. I hadn't expected that, and a big smile was on my face. We wrestled, or rather, I wrestled to pin him down, and he wrestled to get free. My dick was oozing precum at this. I was his master. He would obey me. At last, I pinned him to the floor with one hand on his chest. He looked angry, but I could also see his jeans tenting. I laughed. 'I wish I could oblige, man,' I said, 'but my Anaconda only goes one way.' 'Your dick's grown too?' He said, getting to his feet and steadying himself on the table. 'The holy grail. So what's your secret?' 'I'm young,' I said. He looked hurt at that. 'Fine. I guess you'll be off up Uranus again soon.' I looked at my watch, letting my forearm, pumped with exertion, fill his vision. 'Guess I am, little guy. It's been fun, though.' It was only after the evening work-out that I realised what had happened. 'That little prick,' I said, turning my bag inside. Nico — I can't call him the Beast any more, now that out of the two of us, I'm the bigger and hairier — was towelling off his glutes. 'Who?' 'The police guy. Stephan.' I was full of rage. 'He's taken it.' 'Taken what?' 'My shake,' I said. 'He must have slipped it into his bag while I was gloating in the beer garden this afternoon. What am I going to do now? Buy something from a shop that's loaded with corn starch? Fuck myself up?' I punched a locker with fury. I was slightly taken aback to see the metal crumple under my blow. I tried to calm myself. I could do some real damage now. If Stephan had actually been there... 'Whoa! Dude!' Nico put a hot hand on my ginormous shoulder. 'Come home with me. I've got boxes of the stuff in the cellar.' 'You have?' Nico grinned. 'You know how close Doctor O is to my Dad, don't you? And Dad would love to meet you.' I swallowed, suddenly nervous. I was actually being invited back to Nico's place. I was going to meet his Dad, see his place — and finally be reunited with Estelle. Estelle! How many nights had I dreamt of this moment. No, not dreamt — fantasised over, pumping my hard cock in the privacy of my bedroom, imagining the moment I finally undid the humiliation of that summer's day in the library, that day that feels so far away. When I was just a boy, smooth-cheeked, fluffy-haired, little-dicked, puny little Olly. When Nico stood over me, showing off his stuff, and she was there, leaking pussy juice at the very sight of it. Estelle! At last I would show her what a real man looks like. My heart was pounding like I'd just done a hard cardio session. I pulled my hoody over my gym vest and followed Nico through the village, almost hoping she wouldn't be there. But sure enough, she was there at the door to meet us. She did a double take when she saw me. 'You've changed!' she giggled. 'Fuck me!' 'If you say so,' I said, blushing through my beard. She licked her lips and looked me up and down. 'Nico said you were hitting the gym with him. I'd never have expected such a transformation. Well done you!' 'Do you approve?' I asked her. We were standing in the hallway. Nico was kicking off his shoes. He stopped to hear her reaction. She looked me up and down, then looked at him, then back at me. 'Were you born in a barn?' called a man's voice from the kitchen. ' What are the pair of you doing out there?' It was deep and resonant and cultured. Nico's Dad. I'd forgotten he'd be here. 'I brought Olly back,' called Nico. 'Is there some reason he can't come into the house?' Nico looked at me, and we both laughed. I followed him into the house while Estelle closed the door behind us. I gave her a backward glance, and caught her looking at me strangely, like she was still considering about my question. My beating heart gave my dick gave a little pump of excitement. The game was on. Oh, I didn't say anything about Nico's house. It's amazing. Got to be Victorian, but it felt so beautifully warm and stylish. The bare boards gleaming, huge modern art canvases on the walls, and the kitchen was one of those big ones with an island in the middle. Nico's Dad was preparing dinner, a handsome man somewhere in his fifties, an impressive figure with a mane of hair just beginning to go salt and pepper and a beard that was bigger than mine — but carefully combed and coiffed. Everything about him was a little bigger than mine, in fact — he was like a small giant, in charcoal grey jogging bottoms and a Uranus gyms t-shirt. Taller even than Stephan, who thinks he's all that. He was adding spices to a big pan of chilli. 'Hey Olly,' he said breezily, 'Good to meet you at last. How's things?' I'm never good with meeting other people's parents, although Nico's Dad put me at my ease more than is usual. I told him things were pretty good — leaving out the stuff about Sophie and Stephan. Nico told him about the drink — leaving out the fact it was stolen by an ex-copper after a wrestling match in the local pub's beer garden. 'Oh, I thought you were staying to dinner,' said Nico's Dad, looking disappointed. 'I've got plenty.' 'Go on,' said Estelle and Nico at once, then both giggled shyly. They were like a pair of conspirators all through the evening. I kept trying to catch Estelle's eye, and I pulled off most of my usual tricks — folding my hands behind my head, which spread me open at my widest and most massive — cracking nutshells in one hand — lifting my shirt to scratch my monstrous, hairy abs. I even took off my hoodie, telling the table the spicy food was getting me overheated. And as I sat there in my gym vest, looming over Nico, dwarfing the furniture, my bulging musculature glinting with a little perspiration in the candlelight (yes, the food was spicy) I could feel the other diners stealing glances at me, all of them, wondering at me, what I had been and what I had become. But Estelle and Nico carried on with their conversation. Nico's Dad leant across and brushed my hand with his huge paw. 'Won't you get cold like that?' he said, parentally. 'Not really,' I said. 'I'm always a little, you know, overheated.' 'Your metabolism must be utterly raging,' he said. 'Nico told me himself, he's amazed at your rate of hypertrophy. I can see what he means.' I smiled shyly. 'Nico's been a great coach,' I said. 'And a little friendly rivalry goes a long way,' Nico's Dad replied, with a smile. 'Particularly when there's a pretty young woman in the frame.' I looked back across at Estelle. 'I can't lie,' I said. 'But now — oh, I don't know.' 'Now you've realised that's not what's driving you,' he said. 'It's a personal thing, not a vendetta. It's one of the good things in your life.' I smiled at him. 'Thanks. It's nice to hear someone talk about it positively for a change. My friends...' 'They'll stay your friends. They'll realise this is part of who you are. And the more you like you being who you are — sorry, I'm preaching,' he said. 'But you know, personal development has been a big part of my life. Uranus is mine, after all.' 'Really?' I breathed. 'You own the whole gym?' 'You didn't know?' He patted my shoulder. 'Yes, it's my baby.' 'It's an amazing place,' I said. 'I think I love it.' 'You go well together,' he said. 'You're like me. You have good genes. Bricks that are just waiting to be built into a fortress. It's not the same for everyone.' He thought for a moment. 'I delivered a paper on this, only last year.' Suddenly we were talking science. We were talking about things I never discuss with anybody. Biology. Geology. Quantum mechanics. Most of the time this sort of conversation goes over people's heads, and I hide that side of myself — but just like with the skimpy little vest, I was showing off another side of myself tonight. I had never felt such kinship with another man. Now we began to go deeper. We talked about that feeling of reaching for something only you can — about the depths of masculinity we were plumbing — about sex and power and size, size, size... 'I feel a bit rude sitting here in my gym clothes,' I confessed. 'But I outgrew everything I have in my wardrobe.' 'Those things belong to a different person,' he said. 'And you're being born into a new life. It's only right that you should be bursting out of your clothes, revealing your body to the world. We should be able to look at one another that way.' I looked at the curve of his musculature in that Uranus gyms shirt and thought about seeing one another 'that way'. I looked across at Nico and Estelle and imagined all four of us stripping off and rolling around on the floor. I almost didn't notice when dessert was served — baked figs and mascarpone. At the end of the night, I shook hands with Estelle graciously. If there was a trace of lust in her eyes, I tried to ignore it. Nico's Dad used my proffered hand to draw me into a great big bear hug. His beard meshed with mine and I could smell his cologne. I could feel the solidity of his body, I knew which individual body parts were which. I could feel the huge bulge of his cock in his jogging bottoms. It rubbed against mine and, for a moment, I felt both of them swell a little in excitement. Quickly we broke apart. Nico patted my back. 'I'm so glad you guys got along,' he said, ginning. Then suddenly his eyes went wide. 'Your drink!' he said, and ran off to the cellar. 'You should come over on Sunday,' Nico's Dad said, impulsively. 'You can't go around wearing vest tops and nothing else. And what happens when you bust out of those? I'll ask Nico to dig out a few old things of his.' 'Okay,' I said. It was all I could do to get my lips to move, the breath to move in my throat. Stupid, I guess. I mean, come on, it's just hero worship. No big deal. It doesn't mean I've changed particularly. It doesn't mean anything. Nothing at all.
  2. Muscle Worshippers: Chapter 8 of 14

    Chapter 7 is here. And this is really where it gets interesting... 8 Olly Friday, September 26th Late for work again today. I know it's wrong. A month ago I would haven't dreamt of it. A month ago I was early, eager to please — god, such a good little boy. But was that bad? I love the library — I don't want to piss off Mr Bartholomew — but equally, I can't bring myself to give a fuck. Am I a bad boy now? I'm definitely not so little these days. No, I'm not a bad boy. God knows, I'm working harder than ever. I get up at five to get to the gym early enough for my morning session. Just me, the Beast, and a few other hardcore lads. We devotees of the iron, sweat and lift. Most of those other guys in the early morning, city types with nice pecs, are still only doing half the work that me and the Beast are putting in. We're there to do a cardio session and a few light weights. We spar a little in the changing rooms. That's just session one. We still have our weights session scheduled for the evening. No, that's all good. Mum and Dad and Anthony are pleased to see me taking some exercise. My parents are glad to see me becoming a man. Anthony nods encouragingly, but I can see there's something behind his eyes. Perhaps he's not sure which of us is the big brother nowadays. Especially after his nice pale blue interview shirt got ripped up the back. He found it on my bedroom floor. 'Jesus Christ,' he said, 'What happened to this?' I wasn't in the mood to talk nicely about it. It was a Saturday morning and I was getting ready to go for a swim. 'I guess I happened to it, bro. I'll replace it.' 'You get in a fight?' 'What are you, deaf, blind or an idiot? I told you that I happened to it. In case you haven't noticed, I've put on some weight since you first leant it to me.' 'You mean you outgrew my shirt?' He was turning it over in his hands. 'The sleeves are all burst too.' 'Are they? Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't realise you cared about it so much.' 'You don't seem to remember it happening.' 'Sometimes when I've had a good session, and I'm really pumped, I guess I forget myself a bit,' I tried to explain, still packing my swim bag: towel, trunks, shake... 'I just can't believe you've put on any muscle so fast.' 'It happens when you first start at the gym. The Beast's an expert, and I've been reading up. A guy my age has the right chemical balance. He's ready to...' 'Explode?' 'If you want.' 'Show me,' he said. I really hadn't wanted this, but he'd asked for it. I went and stood before him and pulled off my sweat top. I like it because it keeps my new physique something of a secret. It's outsize. You can't tell, at first glance, how very outsize I am. 'Oh, fuck.' He covered his mouth with his hand. 'Olly, you look like a — like a gorilla or something.' 'Do you see how I bust your shirt open now?' I balled my hands into fist, demonstrating the iron bars my forearms have become. I banged on my chest with one first. The smack and the little bounce always made me want to smile, especially thinking how little I used to look when I first struck these poses in the bathroom mirror. 'Do you see what I'm packing? Your shirt was for a normal sized guy, Anthony, and I've started to go way beyond normal.' 'I suppose you're just...' His mouth was dry, staring at the thick sinew of my arms, my hulking shoulders, my rugged six pack. 'You're growing up faster than I thought. I didn't realise you even had chest hair.' I ran my fingertips through it. 'That's testosterone. When you're working out at my capacity, the body starts producing more of it. I'm flooded with testosterone now, and it — well...' I clapped my hands together for emphasis, and couldn't resist pulling a momentary 'most muscular' pose, so he could see the whole story. 'It makes things grow.' He shook his head in disbelief. 'I hope you know what you're doing.' 'Don't worry, little guy,' I patted his shoulder patronisingly. 'I'm right on course.' He looked repelled, and for some reason I loved it. I tried not to show what a turn-on it was, just pulled my sweat top back on and went out the door for that swim. Mr Bartholomew is less than happy. Last Friday he complained that I wasn't taking the job seriously. That was at the start of the day, and I swallowed that down pretty well, but he kept on at me all day. I told him how I was carrying three times the number of books about now, and could reach the higher shelves without standing on a step ladder. He said that was all very well, but that it was attitude that was the thing, and I had a bad one. That afternoon the ex-policeman came in for a chat. Well, I've written about him in here before. It's the highlight of my week. At first I thought it was just because he's a tough like me, and in some ways more so than the Beast. He doesn't lift or anything, but he's army-fit, and fucking tall. He towers over the Beast and has to stoop a little just to come in at the door. He's been in some hard situations, he told me. He said he chased down drug dealers and smacked their heads together. He's been in situations where he's carried a gun, and others where he's had to wrestle a bloke to the floor and pin him. That takes strength, sure, but it takes something more: self-belief. Yeah, he's a tough guy, a real man, the sort of guy my brother would be shy of talking to. Not sure why he quit the force. Reading between the lines, I think it was something to do with addiction. The first time we talked, he wanted to know about gym stuff. I got a real buzz when I realised he'd noticed the little changes in my body, the output of all my input. It's nice to be admired. Of course, I like it from girls most of all. I like to see that look in their eyes that their pussy is melting, that they want me inside it, that they're dreaming of my cock. But when I get it from guys it's worth three times as much, because I know they're saying they put themselves beneath me. I am the dominant one, the alpha male, for once. And then when he was asking again last week, the penny dropped. He's gay. A little — or rather, six foot something — poof. And I realised, as I was talking, that his eyes kept going down to my arms, my chest, my packet. He couldn't stop staring, and then I could see a look come over his face. The look that meant he wanted me to come over his face. I folded my arms before him, and he had to actually take a step back. His eyes boggled. 'So, where do you work out?' he asked me. 'Uranus,' I told him. 'It's just down that way.' I pointed past his shoulder so that my massive arm was right in his face. He stared at it like a hungry man looking at steak. 'Maybe you should come along.' 'I'd like to,' he said. 'You'd like to what?' I said, leaning in conspiratorially. 'I'd like to come,' he said. 'With me?' I said. 'If you're interested,' he said. I gave a big laugh then, put out a big hand and pushed him away playfully. He almost stumbled. 'You've changed since I first came in here, if you don't mind me saying so,' he said, and I've been puzzling over what he meant exactly. But later that day, when the last customer had gone and we were locking up, Mr B. cornered me by the photocopier and said I needed to spend less time chatting and more time doing what I was paid for, or perhaps they'd decide my presence was not required. After a whole day of being baited, that's when the red mist finally came down. I turned and shoved the guy, less playfully then I did the ex-police officer. He went down right away. 'Please don't hurt me,' he whimpered. 'Please don't hurt me,' I parroted. 'I didn't mean to be rude,' he said, 'but -' 'But you're used to being a bully,' I said. 'I'm not. But I could get a taste for this.' I went and stood over him. He looked up at me in horror but also in desire. He didn't know what he wanted, but I did. I slowly undid the top button on my chinos. 'I thought you were a different sort of boy when I employed you,' he said. 'The sort you could push around,' I said, slowly unzipping my fly. 'You were so polite, so sweet-natured.' 'I was littler then,' I said, reaching into my trousers and pulling out my junk, still wrapped in my clean white briefs. I cradled it in my hand, letting him take it in. 'I've grown up a bit.' 'That's a nice size,' he said greedily, getting up onto his knees. 'It's certainly more than I'm used to,' I laughed. 'Do you want — do you want me to suck you?' he asked. More worldly wise than I'd have thought. 'Open wide,' I said, and pulled out my dick. He looked up, uncomprehending, then turned back to my big soft cock, hanging like a piece of ripe fruit from a big, solid tree. He opened his mouth. I caught the back of his throat with a stream of golden piss. He gasped, but I grabbed his curly, grey-white-black hair, and after a second or two he relaxed, and took it like a man. 'Say thank you,' I said. 'Thank you, sir,' he said. 'No more complaints from you, I hope.' 'I only want what's best for the library,' he said, wiping his mouth. 'And all of us,' he added quickly. No, I don't think I'll have any more trouble from him. And I don't think my work out regime is affecting going to the library. I'm always finished in plenty of time to reach the door for opening time, especially now I can run faster than ever before, and it's only a couple of streets away. None of that is so wrong. But when I've finished my morning session, then comes the shower. The Beast and I still shower in adjacent cubicles, just like that first day when could barely lift 10kg. Back when I was a shrimp next to him. I'm nowhere hear his weight and size yet, of course, or his definition — he's still bigger than me, and has five years' advantage on me. I'm still nowhere near the point where I can live my dream. Take his place. Have Estelle tell him how much more she likes my dick. Have him grovel in front of me and call me his master. I'm still too weak for that. And crazy enough that my dick is growing with my muscle, I'm not even half as hung as he is. And we're still pals. We go into our showers together, and I take my bar of Coal Tar soap, and I turn on the water. Jets of red hot water hit my shoulder blades and run down the crevice of my arse, into my arse hole, and down my newly engorged thighs. I take the soap and rub it in circles on my shoulders, around the burning ridges of my trapezius muscles, inside my stinking, furry armpits, over the hard ridges of my stomach, round my dick and balls, up and down my thighs, and up inside my chocolate starfish. And this is where I start to go wrong. This is where I am able to take stock of how my biceps have swelled and my triceps have swelled, as I raise my arms to scrub away beneath them; I can appreciate, in this silence of the water hissing, how much harder and wider my lats are than last week. I soap up my pecs and I take note of how much broader they have grown, and how much further they stand from shoulders and my thick, vascular neck. This is when my dick becomes solid, and I can practically feel my heart beating in it. It seems to stand a little longer and flare a little wider every time I get it hard, and then I soak away at it, marvelling at how it's grown, adoring it with the caress of my bar of Coal Tar. Now I am able to flex and pose and feel how much the muscle has sprouted on and within me. I love feeling the extra mass that I've grown, sometimes overnight. I have to feel the new thickness and solidity of my thick cock, as I pump my big fist on it. I go into a reverie where all I am conscious of is the size of my muscle and how it has grown. I think about the stares I've got from girls and from guys. I think about how I bust Anthony's shirt and how he looked at me with such envy. I think of the jeans I was wearing last week that ripped at the seams because my thighs are so big now. I think of how I accidentally snapped a door handle off the door at the library. I reach down and feel my balls, now big juicy orbs full of spunk. I reach around and feel the tightness and roundness of my glutes. I twist and look down at my tree trunk thighs, grown from hairless saplings. I look at how my body hair has grown wild across the chest and arms and stomach that were completely smooth a week ago. I think of the tiny physique that stood in this cubicle stall once before, half the size of me at least. Fuck, what's happening to me? I feel I'm becoming obsessed. I've got the physique of a true bodybuilder now, but it's not enough — it's really not enough. I've got it in my sights now. Another couple of years and there'll be a beast in that shower stall. Okay, I'm going to have to sneak into the bathroom and have another wank now. I need to do more than get my boss to drink my piss in the library after hours. I need to get some sex soon. I reckon the police officer would go down on me, given half the chance. That's what we were really talking about, last Friday. I made sure of it. 'Come with me?' I said. 'I'm flattered, big guy, but I'm afraid I don't fuck guys. This big mister -' I grabbed my bulge and squeezed it to show him how it crammed my y-fronts ' — is strictly girls allowed.' God, he looked humiliated, though he tried to smile. Fucking queer, after my body. That reminds me. Sophie replied to my text. She's coming tomorrow. I'd better save that wank tonight. I'm going to give her everything I've got.
  3. Muscle Worshippers: Chapter 6 of 14

    Chapter 5 is here 6 Olly Thursday, August 28th Eat. Lift. Sleep. Repeat. I've got that written up above my bed now. I hear it in the pulsing of blood in my ears. And with that insistent beat, I feel like I can feel something else stirring, pulsing like a heartbeat. Yesterday, the Beast put a huge paw on my shoulder. I was just out of the shower, with my towel wrapped around my midriff. I was getting ready to step back into my undies and pull my jeans on and head back home to bed. Muscle is torn apart in the gym, fed in the kitchen and built in bed. 'Wait a minute, bro,' he said. 'Look in the mirror.' I turned and looked, and saw it for the first time. I saw mass. I could see it in my arms, my neck, my chest, my belly, my shoulders, my legs, the sharp ridge of my hips. You might not know it if you didn't know me, but it was like a roll of thunder in the still of the night. I could see it in my eyes, too; in my stance, in the fat veins of my arms. I could feel it with every breath I took in, I could feel a greater weight on the balls of my feet. I could feel it in that slow burning ache that never quite fades. My body is putting on muscle. Of course, next to the Beast I still looked almost girlish. It's the body of an athlete. It's powerful, it's stronger than your average guy, it's the kind of thing a popstar has, or a magazine model: it's not nearly enough. But it's a hard body. It indicates that something has begun. I'm strong enough now to start lifting real weights. And it feels like it's come out of nowhere. I'm working hard, so hard. I'm working out nearly every day, lifting free weights and kettlebells till my arms and my thighs and my core are all screaming furiously — but still this is so sudden. I see other guys in the gym working hard, guys with personal trainers, guys who were working out before I started, and they don't have what I've got. And maybe it's in the stance, the look, the fire in the belly. But it's also a fact that I am bigger than them. I've stripped my body of fat now, the little that I had. I see abs, tiny but boulder hard, when I pull on my shirt in the morning. I feel power in my delts and biceps, even when I lift my Astrophysics textbooks out of my suitcase, when I chug down that fucking disgusting protein shake. I wake up and I feel my heart pumping; at night, I feel my body reinvigorated. I want to fuck, twenty-four seven. My brother brought home his girlfriend last night. She's totally sweet and lovely, got a beautiful smile that comes straight out of her eyes. Really friendly. I was in the kitchen with Anthony, asking about her, and he's just so sweet about her. 'We're going out to loads of archaeological sites,' he told me. 'I make a packed lunch, she drives, and it's just so — comfortable. Nourishing.' 'That's great, man,' I said, watching him cook. 'You probably think we're like an old couple,' he said. 'But life's different when you're twenty-one, man. You'll see.' 'I hope not!' I said, with a big fake laugh, glancing back toward the sitting room. All I could think of was, what's she going to do for a dick inside her? Where's she going to get that from? Her boyfriend, who makes the packed lunch and chooses what motorway to use for their day out? That'll hardly touch the sides. In more than one sense. I see girls in the street and I want to go up to them and put my face in between their thighs. I want to taste them, I want to stick my tongue in deep, to drink them down. I want to listen to them lose control with pleasure. I want them to fill my senses with their sex. I want satisfaction. I was hard throughout the dinner my brother cooked. And I could see the way she was glancing at my arms when I filled her wine-glass, at my pecs when she hugged me goodbye (fuck, but they're so sensitive) that she felt the same thing. I'd never do anything against my big brother, but I could have taken her off him, like that: the filthy bitch. I've never been a big one for masturbation. I always thought it was dirty and somewhat shameful. I only ever used my laptop for my studies in the past. But last night, I shut the door carefully, and I pulled the curtains. I turned on my laptop and I searched for sex. In my underpants, the laptop resting on my crotch, pressing on my ever hardening penis. And I'm looking down at my muscle in the light of the screen. Crazy, veiny, raw stuff. I have a strange urge, more than ever, to tweak my nipples. They seem to have grown more sensitive in the last few weeks. I use both hands, thumb and forefinger. But then I feel I need another hand to take care of my dick. I'm watching a muscle guy fucking. Pornography. I never saw the appeal this stuff has. It's there to reach the bits of fantasy at the back of your mind that nobody else can get at. And there he is, older than the Beast but just about as built. And the girl is being pinned down, she's yodelling with pleasure. I reach into my pants for my dick. Here comes the surprise. The thing inside is twice as fat as it used to be. It used to be, quite frankly, a pencil, and now it's a magic marker. It feels heavy in my hand. Where my fist used to close the whole thing in, I can wrap my hand around it now and the cockhead pokes out, plus an inch or two to spare. Not just the normal kind of muscle. Somehow, the other kind of muscle is growing too. I'm enlarging all over, to scale. When my face is reflected in my laptop screen, it looks no less young, and the expression on it — so innocent. My own body is outpacing me. I stroked my new, bigger dick for a while, staring at it almost as much as I was staring at the porn. Then I decided: I'm a scientist. I need to know more. First I Googled: NATURAL COCK ENLARGEMENT and found oceans of scammy sites trying to sell me machines and yoga exercises. Then I tried MAGICAL COCK ENLARGEMENT and found all the same sites, plus a lot of stuff about magic beans and yogic chanting. I tried searching for, BIGGER MUSCLES OVERNIGHT and got diet plans and exercise videos. I tried SUDDENLY BIG MUSCLE, I HAVE A BIG COCK NOW, UNEXPECTED BIG COCK and NEW BIG COCK AND BIG MUSCLE IN THE NIGHT and got back to the porn, most of it gay, which I'm not into. I tried to focus. I was beginning to feel downhearted and dispirited, and even a little scared. Then, like a light in the dark woods, I came across a message board about muscle growth: Muscle Worshippers. I felt I needed to find out if this had happened to someone before. It's not exactly something I want to share with the Beast. I left a message, explaining my situation, took a deep breath, clicked 'send' and went to bed. I dreamed I had emailed that message to the tall guy in the library, and that I was waiting for him to reply. And then it was morning. Before I did anything, I sat down again at my laptop. There were several responses already to my query. BIG DICK LOVER: Hi DulwichBoy, it doesn't sound like you help, it sounds like you need a willing arse. Good news, I have one hear — bad news, I don't live in London. Are you ever in San Francisco? MUSCLE PUP: Your story got me so hot. I jacked off to it twice before I went to bed. I'm London, maybe we should hook up? ASTROMAN: This Beast is obviously one of the great old ones who walk amongst us and bestow bountiful gifts. You must respect his gift and consider what he is trying to show you. Only then will true enlightenment fall upon you. Also, do you have any pictures? GRANT: Whoa, I love the sound of your hot muscles. I wonder where it will stop? I like to think it won't, and by the time you're 25 (nearer my age) you'll already be a hot muscle daddy. Can you come to NY soon? The Big Apple has room for you however big you get. LUVVABOI: I'm in Manchester. I'm working out trying to get as big as I can. Would love to come and share your magic. Pictures, pls. You sound bodacious. MIKEY9+: My dick has never stopped growing. Also, Musclepup, I jacked off when I read that you jacked off. Any pics of you jacking off to DulwichBoy's story? Reading these responses to his story, I felt my dick swell and lengthen in my pyjamas. There was a tingle at the root, a throb in the cockhead. When I pulled it out, I found that it was at least another inch or two longer and fatter than the night before. The cockhead bulged a little more, like a plum ripening in the dew. I could feel the different kind of grip my thumb and fingers made around it. I had to take some action — so I picked up my phone and took a few pictures with a deodorant can for reference. My body was tingling with excitement. It was nearly time to head off to the gym, after all. Quickly I uploaded the pictures to the message board. DULWICHBOY: Since you asked, this is me. Thanks for all the comments. I'm not gay but I appreciate your positivity. About a minute after uploading, I got a response: MUSCLE PUP: Fuck man, that is a nice dick and bod too. You don't need to get any bigger. So hard right now. Heart racing, I typed my response: DULWICHBOY: Like I said, I'm not gay. I like women. But thanks. So, you lift, bro? I wanked my dick, drawn into the atmosphere of sex. It was amazing to feel the new thickness in my palm, and to see muscles bulging in my arm as my fist pumped that I had never been seen before. Ping! Muscle Pup had uploaded a picture. MUSCLE PUP: Been working out a couple of years now. What do you think? Wow. MusclePup was about my age and height, and he'd been working out about twenty times longer than me. And I was bigger than him. I could take him. I knew I could. I pictured myself wrestling him to the ground. Ping! Another message. 6'5LIBRARYUSER: Hey, DulwichBoy. Do I know you? You're rocking some impressive gains. My heart began to beat in my chest. Quickly I exited Muscle Worshippers and retreated to my email inbox. There was a cute email from Sophie, and I read it peacefully, letting my dick soften. I had to get going, after all. It was time to hit the gym. But I've been running it over in my head ever since. I haven't replied to that message board. I don't belong on there. Nevertheless, I log on secretly and read the comments. For at least a week, the comments kept on coming. Guys from all over the world who were hot for my meat. I never even thought that a gay guy might fancy me before this. (Why would I?) But this is crazy. And I absolutely love it. Yeah, you guys. You want this? You want to feel the power in this arm that used to be so powerless? You jizzing in your pants to see a pair of pecs bulging in my t-shirt? And it's more than that, isn't it? I don't just turn you on, little guys. I have power over you. Any of you. I control you. Bring you to me. Dismiss you. I shame you in your most private moments. Worthless, little-dick, weakling cocksuckers: and the gay guys, too! I'm the boss of you all. And I think that's always been in me, even when I was little. I was always a boss waiting to realise it. Alpha at the core, hard at the centre. Now I'm starting to wield that power — just like the Beast. And my teacher — my rival, only he doesn't know it yet — is proud of his work. 'I'm doing it,' he said today, gripping my enlarged shoulder, prodding my hard abs, making me curl and make a bicep and measuring it against his monster. 'I'm bring it out in you. I'm making you bigger, day by day. How do you like that, little librarian?' I met his eye in the mirror. 'Love it, big guy,' I said. 'Love it.'
  4. Blue Pill Part 20

    Sorry for the wait, in case you need a refresher here is Blue Pill Part 19 And without further ado I give to you Blue Pill Part 20 Although she had just fed, Sarah was hungrier than she had ever been before. The smell that hit her as soon as she opened the door to the gym was intoxicating, like pure male essence. It was the aroma of sweat and testosterone that caused her newly formed dick to harden down the leg of her short running shorts. The head of her dick just barely held within the confines of her shorts. She began to sniff the air, walking down the hallway, following the smell to where it was the strongest. This led Sarah to a heavy steel door, which she quickly pushed open to reveal an even more intense cloud of the stench that led here there from the hallway. It was so thick it was almost as if you could swim in it. Sarah felt something wet drip onto her foot and as she looked down to inspect where it came from, she saw another drop forming at the edge of her boxers. The smell had her so turned on that she was hornier than she ever remembered being before. Sarah was surprised to find the locker room was practically empty, minus the few gym bags sitting outside of their lockers. She walked up to one of the gym bags that was setting open atop the bench. She looked in and found a used jock sitting on top. Sarah reached into the gym bag and pulled out the jock. It was still warm and sweaty from the previous wearer, as if it had just been discarded. She brought the jock up to her nose, smelling the amazing aroma of sweat and testosterone with a hint of cum. Sarah stuck the jock in her mouth sucking on the sweat and cum. As she was sucking she felt a surge of strength run through her body and felt her dick pulse in her running shorts. She looked down to see that the head of her dick was now just barely peeking out of the edge of her shorts. As she was looking down at her dick, she noticed that her entire body looked pumped. She ran her hand along the shaft of her penis, earning her a glob of pre-cum once she reached the head. Hormones were racing through her brain telling her she needed to get off and soon. Sarah heard the sound of a shower turning on through the doorway at the end of the row of lockers. She headed towards the doorway with a hunger in her eyes and a raging hardon in her shorts. " Time to feed" she growled to herself... When Riley had first arrived to the gym, his gut was full and swollen with Derek's cum. He knew he needed to do something to get the size of his beach ball belly to go down and after reading the note that was left for Derek about how it would be beneficial for him to work out, he decided the best place for that would be Frank's Gym. It was always filled with meatheads and hardcore weights. Riley was in his jock and a pair of sweats he had found in the school locker room and He was wearing a t-shirt that said 'Fletcher Valley Athletic Department'. It was a little loose on him, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be that way for long. He looked out across the gym floor and found a handful of guys lifting. They ranged in size from amateur bodybuilder to Olympia sized. The biggest being Damien, he was easily a 300-pound wall of shredded beef, ready to dominate his next bodybuilding competition. He was a 6-foot-tall wall of dark chocolate and he was walking straight towards Riley. Riley began to panic. He wondered if the behemoth had seen him staring or if he was just overthinking. Jason's heart began racing faster and faster as each titanic footfall of the giant caused his meaty pecs to bounce. His massive Quads rolling over each other as they fought for space inside the weak confines of his gym shorts. Riley couldn't believe his eyes when they finally fell upon the obscene bulge in Damien's shorts. He had seen some decent sized packages in the school locker room. Chris's came to mind right away, but what was in front of him now had to be as big as Chris's cock was when it was hard, and it was completely soft. As Damien got right up next to me he leaned down to say something in my ear. His deep baritone filled my soul, as I had a hard time registering what he was saying. "Yeah, I saw you lookin. You're gonna need about another 100 pounds before you can handle what I got to give. Come find me when you do though, I'd love to fill your bowl with my cream." He stood back up to his full height and I watched his face as a huge toothy grin formed on his face as he gave me a wink. He reached down to adjust his package which Jason swore was bigger than just a moment ago. As Damien walked past Riley, He turned to watch Damien as he stared directly at Riley's ass. He seductively licked his lips as he headed into the gym locker room. To say that Riley felt on fire would be an understatement, he felt like hormones were flooding his entire being. Not only that, but his cock was rock hard. He knew he needed to focus. If what the note said was true, he needed to start lifting so he could absorb all the muscle cum that was in his belly. Riley decided to start with arms, so he headed over to a long row of dumbbells in front of a large gym mirror. He grabbed the 25's to start as a warm up and headed over to the isolation bench. As he was walking over to the bench Riley watched his arms in the mirror as the sinewy muscle lightly flexed to support the weight in his hands. He flexed his arm straight down causing a slight bulge to appear on the back of his arm from his triceps. Riley sat at the isolation bench and began doing curls. At first the weight was a little heavy, but began to get easier to lift as he did more reps. Once he had 25 reps done he switched to his other arm and began lifting again. Riley watched as veins began to surface on his arm and his goose egg of a bicep began expanding, just a little bit more with each rep. With his biceps now feeling warmed up, he brought the weight behind his head and began one armed triceps-extensions. He really had to push at the beginning to get the weight up, but as he continued it got easier and easier with each rep. Riley did 25 with each arm and stood up to take the weights back. This time as he passed himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but gawk at his reflection. His arms were pumped just from his warm-up. Riley started the work out with 15-inch arms, but they were looking much closer to the 15-inch range and this time when he flexed his arm straight down, he was rewarded with an actual horse-shoe bulge on the back of his arm. The boner that had started to go down during his lifts sprang back to life as he admired his pump in the mirror. "Fuck yeah! I'm getting pumped" Riley growled to himself in the mirror. "So fucking hot!" Riley put the weights back and walked further down the row of weights, this time picking up the 50's. Riley had never done anything heavier for isolation curls than 35. He could feel the heaviness of the weight in his hands as he headed back to the bench. Riley sat down and began pumping out rep after rep. As the weight got lighter with each rep, his arm began to bulge with some serious muscle. Veins that had appeared during his warm-up were now thickening and branching out all across his swollen bicep. The hard knot on his arm was now about the size of a baseball. Riley then continued the same process with his other arm. During this entire process Riley's raging hard on had begun leaking copious amounts of pre-cum into his jock. Knowing that he was going to have some difficulty doing single arm triceps extensions with 50 pounds, He decided to do just a regular triceps extension using both arms and the 50-pound dumbbell. It was a struggle at first, but just like with his biceps it got easier with every rep he did. Riley lost track of how many extensions he did until he realized that the weight he was using felt as light as the 25 pounders. Riley stood up to take the weight back. This time what he saw in the mirror was a complete and total surprise, the arms that he now possessed were at least 16 inches and wrapped in veins. He couldn't believe how big he was getting. The thought caused his cock to flex in his sweats, which brought his attention to a wet spot that had begun to form where the head of his dick was. Riley reached down and ran his hand along his shaft, as he flexed his cock in his hand. He continued flexing his cock in his hand, as he brought his other arm up into a flex as well. This caused his cock to react by surging in his hand, the head of his cock was now poking out of his jock and shot a wad of precum on the inside of his sweat pants. More turned on then he ever remembered being in his life, Riley headed over to the bench press and loaded the bar with weight for a warm-up. He laid under the bar and brought the weight down to graze his nipples. He then pushed the weight back up. Riley cranked out rep after rep as he began to get a pump from his warm up. Riley began losing sight of his erect nipples as his pecs began inflating with blood. Riley decided it was time to put some serious weight on the bar. He got up and loaded the bar with 300 pounds and got back under the bar. The most Riley had ever benched before this was 150 and that was a struggle. Riley felt confident this time as he lifted the bar, he slowly brought the bar down, feeling the muscle fibers in his pecs stretch and scream in pain as they were forced to lift twice as much as they ever had before. The weight finally reached his pecs and he pushed with all his might to get the weight back up. Once it was back at the top, he brought the weight back down, this time not as much resistance from his pecs. Every time Riley brought the weight down he didn't have to go as far as his pecs swelled thicker with each rep. After what felt like an eternity, Riley finally re-racked the weight and sat up on the bench. Right away Riley could tell a huge difference in his pecs, the weight of his bulbous man breasts pulled heavily on the fabric of his shirt. Riley stood to look at himself in the mirror. "OH SHIT" Riley couldn't believe how big his pecs had become. "I might have done too many bench presses." Riley realized, too late of course, that his pecs were out of proportion with the rest of his body. They almost looked like breasts if it weren't for his slight pouch of a belly he had left. Riley ran his hand up along the curve of his bulbous pec muscle and moaned out loud on the gym floor as his hand rubbed across his pert nipple. A couple of the muscle heads turned to catch a glimpse of Riley and his increasing wet spot in his sweat pants. Realizing that he needed to balance out his body, Riley headed over to the squat rack last. One of the big meat heads must have been using it last, because they didn't take their weights off the bar. The bar was loaded with 500 pounds. Riley was feeling stronger than he ever felt and his rock-hard cock told him that he could lift that fucking weight. Riley braced himself underneath the bar and went to lift the weight up when the big muscle head that had been lifting there headed over to stop Riley. "Hey bro, that weight is way too heavy for your chicken legs, how about we start you off with something a little lighter?" "I'm going to crush this weight!" Riley growled with a fire in his eyes. "Well then, I'm at least going to spot you, I would hate for you to crush yourself under my watch. Names Ben by the way, I'm the manager of Frank's gym." "Enough talk Ben, let's lift some fucking weight." Riley lifted the bar up before Ben was positioned behind him. Riley could feel Ben's hard biceps against the back of his newly minted triceps. The breath on the back of his neck made him even hornier if that was even possible. "FUUUUCCCCKKKKK" Riley moaned/yelled as he squatted down with the weight, he could feel Ben's crotch against his ass as he pushed back in the bottom of the lift, then Riley began pushing the unbelievably heavy weight back up. At the top of the lift, Riley could feel Ben's biceps tense against his triceps as he was trying to get Riley to re-rack the weight. "Great job man, I..." "Did I say I was done yet?!?" As Riley squatted down again, with Ben following him down. The legs of Riley's sweatpants were becoming increasingly tight around his ever-enlarging thighs and he could feel his ass pushing back more into Ben's crotch. Riley flexed his ass at the bottom of the squat. This elicited a moan out of his spotter as he could feel Ben's dick hardening against his rock-hard ass cheeks. Once at the top of the lift, Riley started another squat. Riley could feel the power in his legs increasing as they blew up in size. He could feel his sweat pants becoming too tight against his straining cock and his ballooning ass. Before he could stop himself from humiliation, he heard the ass of his sweats give out with a loud rip. He could feel cool air hit his hole as it was exposed between the straps of his jock. Ben felt the head of his cock through his gym shorts push past Riley's rock-hard ass cheeks to his exposed hole. Riley felt Ben's cockhead through his shorts as it pushed against his hole. Riley decided to hold the weight there for a little longer. Ben rubber the head of his cock against Riley's hole. Riley's legs strained to hold the weight, but they grew larger by the second during the strain, making it easier the longer he held it. "Fuck man, I can't. You have got a really hot ass and I have never had these feelings for another guy before. I'm straight man I'm sorry." Ben pulled his cock head back from Riley's ass and stepped back. Riley stood back up with the weight and re-racked it. Riley turned around to face Ben. He stood almost eye to eye with Ben. Ben had the most beautiful hazel eyes and short military cut hair. His face was chiseled and manly looking. He had to be about 260 pounds. He was a big boy. Riley looked down and realized that’s not all that was big on Ben. His arms and pecs were massive, but what really pulled Riley's attention is what was poking at his hole just moments ago. Riley reached down and wrapped his hand around it, massaging the head. Ben moaned loudly as he closed his eyes and rolled his head back. Riley leaned his body in against Ben's, "Wh..what are you doing?" Ben stuttered as Riley leaned up and kissed him on the mouth. Ben moaned into Riley's mouth as Riley felt Ben's cock swell in his hand as it anticipated releasing its load. Riley stepped away from Ben before he could cum. Ben's eyes were still closed in a moment of bliss."FUCK! That was so fucking hot! Why did you stop?" "You're straight remember." Riley replied with a devilish grin." Besides, I'm done with my workout. Thanks for the spot Ben. Hopefully we can lift together again." Riley gave Ben a wink as he headed for the lockers, holding the ass of his sweats together as best he could. "HEY, WAIT! I never got your name!" Ben shouted after Riley. "If you want my name you'll have to see me again to get it." Riley headed into the locker room and began taking off all his clothes. He admired the way he struggled to get his shirt up over his massive pecs. Riley moaned as the hem of the shirt snagged on his nipples. Riley removed the remains of his sweats to reveal a raging hard on he wasn't expecting. It was about a half inch bigger than he was used to and quite a bit thicker. "Well this isn't covering anything anymore." Riley said as he removed his jockstrap and set it on top of his gym bag. Riley couldn't believe how big he had gotten. He must weigh at least 190 now. He heard the locker room door open on the other side of his lockers. Riley thought it might be Ben, so he wanted to make Ben work for it a little bit, so he turned and quietly slipped into the sauna before he came around the lockers. "God I can't wait to make love to the beautiful man!"
  5. Muscle Worshippers: Chapter 1 of 14

    Hey guys, I wrote this novel a couple of years ago and for a while it was on sale at Amazon, Smashwords etc. I've decided to remove it from sale and make it available here in instalments. That doesn't change the fact that it is Copyright Lawrence Jackson 2015. Hope you enjoy it - please give me any kind of feedback you want! Dedicated to the Xhamster user known as 'snuffed' and Tom/Nico/Stephan aka 'Skinnythick' and everyone else who gives a little of themselves online. 1 Stephan Friday, August 1st The plumber said: 'If I'd known this was going to happen, I'd have stopped by the gym this morning.' But he had a nice body, all the better for not being toned. He was in his mid-to-late twenties: his belly and upper body were fleshy — I ran a hand over his left tit, swirling sweat across his fleshly nipple with my thumb — but it was clear enough to me he played footie every Sunday. His hairy thighs, as he braced himself for my pumping first, were muscled like an athlete's. 'You're so fit,' I told him. He smiled and looked shyly down at himself. 'Fuck off.' I finished unzipping his overalls. The heat coming off him was like a radiator. 'I really shouldn't be doing this,' he said, shimmying the overalls to his ankles. 'I'm proposing to my bird next Sunday.' I promised him she wouldn't mind, and began massaging his cock. 'There are some things,' he said, widening his stance so I could go at him more vigorously, 'you just can't speak to your other half about.' 'Tell me about it,' I said, glancing at our apartment's front door. Tom wasn't due back until the evening, later even if it was 'one of those days' at the surgery, so put this one down to a gay man's intuition. 'She talks about getting into bed with another girl,' he said, 'but just to make me cum, and that. She'd pull one of her faces if she could see me now.' He put his hands flat on his hips, and watched as his dick got fully hard in my hand. 'What else does your, eh, fiancé do to make you cum?' He looked at me. 'Getting a bit personal, aren't we?' 'That's my favourite thing to get,' I said. I nibbled his sweaty chest, kissed his hairy belly, licked his dick questioningly. 'She's alright,' he said, pushing my face down onto his dick so that my glasses jolted halfway down my nose. I let them sit there, and got on with the business of deep-throating that intensely warm cock. His whole body was hot from the overalls. I bounced my nose off his crotch, sniffing droplets of sweat from his short and curlies, the saltiness of his pork gliding smoothly to the back of my throat. 'She likes to go on top once in a while. She watches porn with me — well, she did it once when we were in a hotel in Budapest, and she seemed to really get off on it. She really might go to bed with me and another girl, if the circumstances arose. Oh yeah, mate, that is reem.' 'Mmm,' I said, swallowing a gobbet of pre-cum that spoke louder than words. 'And maybe a year down the line, or maybe when the kids are in school at least, when we're really settled,' he said, 'I could maybe buy her a strap-on. Have you seen that online? Pegging, they call it. Stupid bloody name.' I took the cock out of my mouth and kept wanking it, looking up at his expression. 'You got time to do that today?' 'I've got to be in Muswell Hill at three thirty for an estimate on a wet room,' he said, drawing in a thoughtful air through his teeth. 'How long does it take to set up?' 'No time,' I said. 'Turn around.' 'Fucking hell,' he said, following my instruction. 'My lucky day, innit?' He was bent over and spreading his cheeks for me, when I heard a sound outside. Ex-copper's instincts now. That was definitely Tom's car, the way the engine did that thing that I've been nagging at him about getting fixed. I hesitated, then stuck my tongue up the plumber's sweaty plug-hole to play for time. 'Oh fuck, yes,' he said. 'Do you need me to get at a particular angle for you? You're such a tall bastard. Six four, is it?' 'Six eight,' I said, staring at his arsehole, bubbled with my spit. Outside, I heard car doors slam. Three floors up. Tom would walk it, he always did. It took almost exactly five minutes. 'Look,' I said. 'I've just remembered something.' 'Oh yeah,' he said, 'you need lube for a thing like this, don't ya?' 'It's more than that,' I said, getting to my feet. He turned to look at me, worried. 'Well, rubbers, of course. It's been a while, but it's not actually my first time, sunshine.' 'No, something bigger than that.' I saw his eyes widen in excitement. 'One of those big rubber dildo things?' I ran an anxious hand through my curly blonde hair. 'It's my boyfriend.' 'Whatever you say, fellah,' he said, grinning and wanking his cock. 'Extra very well endowed, is he?' 'Funny you should say that,' I said, 'but the important thing is that he doesn't know you're — we're — he's not actually due back till later, but -' 'Oh, shit, say no more,' said the plumber. 'I've been here before, enough times.' He pointed at the floor. 'Hence the zip-up overalls.' I willed myself to remember the order of the Kings and Queens of Britain. My hard-on resisted till I reached the 1920s when I really had to concentrate. By the time I could bear to look back at him, he was fully dressed and writing his number on the back of a card. 'Escort me to your maintenance task,' he said, handing it over. 'You do have one, don't you?' Of course. Fucked if I could remember what it was, though. The key went in the lock. I went cold, looked for my jumper, and the thought leaped out at me. 'The radiator,' I said, as the door opened. 'Excellent,' said the young man, with only a glance toward the new arrival. He had his biro out again already. 'Well, here's my charge for call-out, stripping down, tackling the airlock. Of course, if the problem persists, call me out again at a convenient time and I'll see what else we can do.' My heart was racing. 'Of course,' I said. 'Can you take a card, or -' 'That'll be fine.' I handed over £50, licking my lips with the taste of his fuck-chute till on the tip of my tongue. He smiled that broad smile and I nearly got a tent in my jogging bottoms all over again. 'See you.' 'See ya, mate!' Tom stood in the doorway, watching the plumber leave. 'Well done. I thought neither of us would ever organise that.' 'Time on my hands,' I said, thinking about where my fingers had just been, and wiping unobtrusively them on my jumper. 'Well, yes,' Tom said, frowning. 'I wasn't expecting you to be home...' He tailed off and looked back into the stairwell. 'Look,' he said, to somebody out there, 'this is silly. You'd better come in.' The door creaked open and a young man in jeans and hooded top came in, swinging a camera case. With his bottle glasses, bristling moustache and tightly knotted tie he looked faintly intellectual, but with that dumb look that comes with the heady uncertainty of imminent sex. I smiled at him, to put him at his ease, and he smiled back, perhaps to put me at mine. It was a moment of wild incomprehension and at the same time, perhaps, total understanding. 'You were going to...' I looked back at Tom, who was squatting on the arm of the sofa. In his smart office trousers, his big bazonger was perfectly delineated, and faintly tumescent as well. 'Yes,' he said. 'Dean and I were making conversation at work.' 'Right,' I said. 'We were talking about you,' Tom said. 'I see,' I said. 'And naturally that led to inviting him back for...' 'It did, in fact,' Tom said. 'I was telling him about what you've been getting up to this past year.' Ouch. 'No,' Tom said, seeing my face. 'Don't feel bad. That's what I realised, in my conversation with Dean. That it's good. We should both be doing whatever we want. It'll make us happy.' 'Right,' I said, pulling on my jumper. Tom forced a smile. 'Right,' he said. He looked at Dean. 'Do you want a coffee?' 'Sure,' said Dean. 'Everything okay?' 'I'll get the coffee,' I said, patting him on the shoulder. 'Milk? Sugar?' 'You sure?' Tom looked concerned. 'You two get started,' I said, not quite sure what I was saying, and walking towards the door, turning my head, I saw my boyfriend turning to the stranger and shrugging off his coat. The stranger put down his bag and took off his jacket. I noticed a little staff card in a lanyard round his neck. So the pair of them were both GP's at the same surgery. Trust Tom to meet someone so entirely innocently, after all my debaucheries of the past year. The stuff that's got me thrown out of the police force. The stuff that's wrecked my life. I stood in the doorway, staring at the coffee pot. I could hear them kissing and gasping with the novelty of it. I could hear them undoing a belt. I closed the door, filled the kettle, put it on to boil. I opened the door a crack, spied on the pair of them. I wanted to see the junior doctor's reaction to my boyfriend's huge member. Dean was unzipping his camera bag, while Tom had his hands up inside his starched office suit and was pinching his nipples. Dean took out a huge black camera and turned it on Tom, ordering him to strip. His words vanished behind the hissing of the coffee coming to the boil. I just saw Tom slowly undoing his shirt, dropping his trousers to his ankles. His raging bulge twitched like a black mamba in a sandwich bag. Dean knelt at his feet and carried on snapping. I got my dick out of my trousers and started wanking. The coffee began to hiss and issue steam. Tom took the camera and snapped Dean as he tugged Tom's juicy pink sausage out of his grey, custom-issue y-fronts. Dean played up to it in a practised way, marvelling at the big purple head, the way he could get one hand gripped around it on top of the other. He wanked and sucked on it, spit flying all over the kitchen floor in his enthusiasm. The coffee pot gurgled, and so did I. I pumped my fist faster. Tom and Dean snogged one another, one small dick pressed against a giant, kneaded and ground together. I couldn't help noticing Tom had one eye on the kitchen door. I turned away and served up the coffee, hand trembling. Tom looked excited, slightly drunk — sexy as fuck, of course — but did he look happy? Or just pretending? Whose benefit was this for, exactly? Was I really thinking those things, though, or was I thinking: Fuck, Fuck, Gotta Fuck, Two hot guys getting off in the living room, gotta fuck, gotta Fuck, gotta FUCK FUCK FUCK. (I've come to realise this is the theme song to my days.) I took the coffee in, and the two men broke away. 'Uh, maybe it's not the time for a drink after all, mate,' Dean said, wiping the steam from his glasses lenses. 'Leave it on the table,' Tom said, 'but don't forget to use the coasters.' The doorbell rang. 'I'll get that,' I said, my voice almost lost in my mouth. It was the plumber, of course. 'You alright, big fellah?' he said, looking up at me. 'I got talking to the bloke in specs while he was waiting in the hall. Says he's heard your fella's got a huge dick and loves fucking arse.' I nodded shyly, and welcomed him in. 'Do you want a coffee?' I said. He considered. 'Nah,' he said, rubbing his chin and looking at the couple writhing on the sofa. 'Got that Muswell Hill job, ain't I? Alright, you two lovebirds, who wants to take a straight boy up the arse, and who wants to photograph it?' He was very clear that they shouldn't get a shot of his face, but in the end, of course, the pair of them did: a huge splash. Even the plumber managed to spunk himself on the cheek. I had a wank while they were all three locked together, but for some reason I myself couldn't cum until I was looking at the pictures later on Dean's Tumblr. And I thought about this. Afterwards, over lunch, Tom surprised me: 'I think we ought to have a trial separation.' I laughed. 'That's just what I was going to say,' I said. 'You're driving me round the bend. Making me want new things.' 'Today, all I wanted was you. But I also wanted to fuck everything. I'm not sure I can square it.' He pushed his chair away from the table. 'Maybe it'll be easier if we're both single. We can see more of each other.' He was rubbing his tits through his cum-stained work shirt. 'No. We need to be apart. I'm bad for you. I make you do things you don't want to do.' 'I'll do whatever you want,' he said. He stood up and stood next to me, nuzzling my shoulder with his crotch, where a hard-on was swelling. 'Exactly,' I said. 'I'm not right in the head. I'm addicted. I need to get myself cleaned up, and in the meantime, you need to become you again.' He unzipped and took it out. The dick that had first captivated me when I saw it online. Mr11AndAHalf, Wimbledon. 'I don't want us to get cleaned up,' he said. 'I want us to get completely covered in sweat and cum and piss.' It was still only soft. The temptation was just as massive as his meat-stick. I stood up, stooped, and kissed him lightly on the lips. 'Shush,' I said. 'We both need some time away from sex. I'll go and pack a bag.' 'But where can you go to get away from sex? Who will you be staying with?' he asked me. 'Slutpig93, Musclelad2000 or FatCockStr8Slut?' All of them old friends. Actually, Mum and Dad weren't that surprised to see me. 'You'd gone quiet,' Mum told me, over a cup of tea in the kitchen. 'I knew something was up.' 'I don't exactly get in touch as often as I should anyway!' I confessed. 'This was different,' she said. 'Do you want a biscuit? I've got your favourites.' My favourites are Ginger Crunch Creams, of course. I'd forgotten all about them and suddenly wham, there they are, just when I need them most. I'm eating one now, sitting on my old bed, looking out of my old window. DulwichVillage. Dead centre of normality and peace. Where the net curtains twitch all day, where there are still red telephone boxes and milkmen. The place I waited eighteen years to escape. Well, another eighteen years on and I'm grateful for it. I can take all the peace it can throw at me. Only I had a weird experience at the library, and it rattled me. Mum had some books to take back. Margery Allinghams and Delia Smiths. I needed the walk, as the summer light died on the air and the green leaves rustled overhead. What, I thought, could be more normal, more calming, than the library. Dulwich Village Library has the atmosphere of a chapel. It has the serenity of an attic room. At six o'clock in the evening, when the heat of the day was at its highest, I witnessed an insane couple go to the Self Help section and begin heavy petting. I mean, I've seen some stuff. I've done some stuff. Going public was always a big thrill for me. How can I forget, for instance, walking along the South Bank at one in the morning and getting my knob sucked overlooking the river, a string of coloured lights overhead, and us in the shadow of a tree. Cruise ships slowly passing up the river, playing Ricky fucking Martin, and I'm living La Vida Loca myself with my dick deep down the guy's throat, his headphones round his collar. That's where the queers go, isn't it, that's where we do it: anywhere we like. But I don't think of straight couples doing it, and not in broad daylight for god's sake, and not in a place like DulwichVillage, where Radio 4 is considered slightly common. But there he was, arse like two bowling balls, arms exploding from his t-shirt. Reminiscent, in fact, of a cage fighter who's swallowed a rugby player, and his blonde girlfriend with her legs open for his finger. It was like they'd been specially cast to perform for us. It would have been rude not to look. In any case, I instinctively fell into the role of security guard. When the senior librarian running the library came over on some errand or other, I coughed as low and as loud as I could, in that universal language for 'Put your cock away'. The public pornstar glanced around at me, with an evil sort of smile. Then he knelt down, lifted the girl's skirt, and put his face right in there. The senior librarian actually spluttered when he saw it, and I'm not sure I didn't too. He looked at me, or up at me, of course. I smiled, sweetly. 'They're not with me,' I said, in that special voice we use in libraries. I wanted to hear the noises they were making together. I wanted to see how much further they would take this. I wanted to get my dick out and wank it. Jesus, it was hard. Like I'd starved myself for a week and then someone had just walked in with a big plate of steak. I checked nobody was watching, and slowly began to fuck the books at groin level, nudging my sweaty, precummy, nylon-tracksuit-wrapped cockhead in between the spines of hardback encyclopaedias. Just then I heard a sharp intake of breath, and my head whipped around. It was the junior librarian, a bloke in his twenties. He must have been sent over to sort out the couple in the book stacks, more's the pity. I would have liked the little fellah to have sorted me out first. He was much more my type than the steroid fiend with snake eyes and tight trousers. Textbook clean-cut straight boy: clean fair hair in a trendy yet somehow too-soft quiff. Not unlike Daniel Radcliffe in looks and demeanour. Nicely ironed polo shirt (pretty sure Mum did that for him). Slender and well groomed, a couple of colourful wristbands with charities and festival names printed on them. He'd just taken in for the first time the scene I'd been enjoying , and his eyes were starting out of his head. He'd never seen the like. God, but he licked his lips at the sight, without realising he was doing it, I think. He was so brimful of milky innocence, my heart leapt in my chest. He even gave a little embarrassed smile and looked away, busying himself with a carousel of cheap romances. What is the impulse in us to take that innocence and ruin it irrevocably? I turned my attention back to the boy and girl in their own little world, but my mind was on that librarian. I knew he was watching the scene. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he envying them? Nervous? Had he done something like that? Had he actually been with a girl? It was like when I used to watch straight porn, and I realised I was fantasising about the men who watched it, as much or more so than the guys who were in it. Had he watched porn? Did he like a wank? How did he look when he came? The man and woman were aware of him watching now. They threw him little glances. I looked to see how he was taking it. My dick had dislodged the books permanently now so that they gave me no purchase. I was well hidden by a Romance carousel and some magazine shelving. Keeping everybody very carefully in view, and hoping the police weren't actually on their way (ex-colleagues! fuck!), I reached into my trackie bottoms and put my hand around my dick. I gave it a slow caress. My knobhead was a sticky mess of precum and sweat. I withdrew the hand and, not knowing what else to do with it, reached inside my vest and wiped it across my chest. I felt the print of my hand on my tit like a warm, glowing smear of UV paint. My dick was crying out for some more, but I decided to play it casual. I wanted to see what the librarian did. I actually saw him, thinking himself unobserved, reach into his chinos and rearrange his dick. Hard-on. Bingo. I watched him walk back, hard dick tucked away so that nobody knew it was there but me. All I wanted to do then was put a hand on his chest and say, 'Excuse me, lad, I've got reason to think you're sporting a hard-on in public. Come on, then, let the dog see the rabbit.' I didn't want sex at that point. I wanted to awake something in him. He walked into the scene, as if it wasn't happening. He'd obviously decided on a softly-softly approach. He began slowly putting away the books. He was so near me, I could smell the styling mousse in his hair. My dick asked me to take it in hand again, and this time I obliged. I wanked as slowly as I could force myself, looking back and forth from him to the couple, my hand sliding all the way up to my balls, drawing my foreskin right back from my throbbing, slobbery cockhead, then slowly sheathing it again hiding it in my first, squeezing it with my index finger, as the couple played up further and further to their new spectator, and he pretended more and more that they weren't there. The girl was licking the guy's cock through his jeans, when the boy obviously decided he'd had enough, but before he could confront them, he seemed to look to me for strength. I saw in him then, all the desire he was resisting, all the lust he was forcing down to the pit of his soul. I saw how far he wanted to go with a girl like her, and I thought how much further I could take him. I tried not to register any change in expression as I spunked hard into my fist. As the cum dribbled through my fingers, I watched the most bizarre scene. I can't quite bring myself to put it down on paper now. I wonder — why were they there; how come it was when this lad was on duty, this perfect mirror for their dirty goings-on. When it was all over, I did my bit and defended him to his manager. I mean, a kid like that, against a beast like that, he did what any of us would do. And after it was over, I went to the counter, my heart crashing in my chest, borrowing books that I've already forgotten the names of. 'Are you okay?' I asked him. He looked wounded. He shot me something like a glare. 'I'll be okay.' 'That prick deserves to be picked up,' I told him, 'and I'll tell you from my own extensive experience, it's only a matter of time before it happens.' 'I'd like to be there when it does,' he said. 'You'll need to fill out a form if you want to borrow books today.' My hand shook as I followed his instructions. I could smell the clean, soapy aroma of his body, and dried sweat in his clothes and hair too. 'You're stronger than him in all but the obvious way,' I told him, drinking in his slender, boyish physique. 'Thanks,' he said, and smiled. 'I've always thought that was enough.' 'For most people, it's more than enough,' I said. He let out a long sigh, looked at the form, looked up at me. 'Thanks very much, Stephan,' he said, and extended a hand for me to shake. It fitted into my palm and felt almost weightless. I decided he might be offended by a vigorous pump, so I just squeezed it and smiled, leaving the library without any of the books I had been due to borrow. My heart went out to him like a ray of light. But when it came to it, I let the whole scene play out like I was watching on a screen. Why didn't I step in? I've spent the last fifteen years breaking up fights and calming down tensions. Why didn't I intervene? I think I knew, deep down, that I couldn't involve myself in that, whatever it was. It was too hot, too perfect, for all concerned. It was important for all of us. I've cum three times again tonight thinking about it. And I keep trying to see things from the point of view of Beauty and the Beast and am just left with mystery. What's their game? What were they trying to unlock in that beautiful young man? And did they succeed?
  6. The Resurrection of Richard Sandrak

    THE RESURRECTION OF RICHARD SANDRAK BY GLAMROCKCOWBOY (AUTHOR’S NOTE: Many of this Forum’s members will remember former “muscle kid” Richard Sandrak, better known to some as “Little Hercules.” It is now unfortunately well-known that his father forced the younger Sandrak to become a bodybuilder, even to the point of forcing his son to take steroid injections before he was even old enough to understand their effects upon him. Eventually, his father’s abuse of his wife forced young Richard to turn his father in to the authorities. He was subsequently tried, convicted, and imprisoned on a variety of criminal charges, including both child abuse and domestic violence. Upon completing his sentence, Richard’s father was summarily deported back to his native Russia, and forbidden to ever return to the United States. Today, neither Richard nor his mother have any contact whatever with the man who brutally forced him to “muscle up.” In fact, he has abandoned bodybuilding altogether. Today, he is a stunt double at Universal Studios in Hollywood. This story explores what MIGHT happen if Richard chose, of his own free will, to return to bodybuilding. I hope you find this story—which, let me emphasize, IS FICTION—to be both enjoyable and thought-provoking.) It had been an unusual day for Richard Sandrak. The 25-year-old stuntman had been called upon to re-visit a world he thought he had left behind forever—the world of bodybuilding. A number of unhappy memories had come flooding back to him as a result of a conversation he had had with one of Universal Studios’ casting directors—memories of steroid injections, forced workouts and dietary regimens, and—worst of all—verbal and physical abuse of his mother by his greedy, ambitious father, to such a point that Richard himself had been forced to call the police and have his father arrested. He had then been tried, convicted, and sentenced to imprisonment on a variety of charges, after which the elder Sandrak had been summarily deported back to his native Russia, and was now forever barred from ever re-turning to America. Needless to say, Richard’s mother had long since divorced her husband. Since his father’s deportation, Richard and his mother had both made a point of cutting off all contact with the man who had put them both through what could only be described as “Hell on Earth.” Today, however, had been different. On arriving at work for the day, Richard had been called into the office of one of Universal Studios’ most prominent casting directors. Much to his surprise, he had been informed that he was under consideration for a leading role in a new series of motion pictures. While the series was still in the early stages of development, the role would almost certainly require any actor portraying it to have a physique that was well-developed, to say the least. The director explained that Richard had been selected for consideration in view of his past “bodybuilding experience,” as the director had phrased it. Richard, however, was not interested, and he told the director so in no uncertain terms. In the process, he gave more details about his childhood experiences than he normally would have to a comparative stranger. He then abruptly terminated the interview and went home for the day, trembling in every limb. On reaching his apartment, he slammed the door shut behind him, locked it, then went to his bedroom, and fell to his knees beside his bed, crying hysterically. It was not until over an hour had passed that Richard was finally able to begin to pray about what had happened. He poured out his heart and soul to God, begging Him for guidance and help in making sense of it all, and, more importantly, what to do about it. Then, totally exhausted, both physically and emotionally, he climbed into bed, pulled the cover up to his chin, and fell into a deep, deep sleep. It was nearly four hours later that Richard finally rose from his bed, largely due to the insistent knocking he heard at his apartment door. When he opened it, a shamefaced casting director stood before him. “I’m sorry, Richard,” he began. “I honestly had no idea that you had been through that kind of abuse when you were growing up. Of course, I would never dream of asking you to go through anything like that again. What I had in mind was more of a natural, drug-free bodybuilding regimen, especially since there are any number of new supplements now on the market for bodybuilders. Even so, if you truly feel that something like this is not for you, we’ll respect your decision.” As Richard sighed with relief, the director put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Take the rest of the day off,” he advised, “think it over, and you can let us know of your decision when you come back in the morning. We’ll still have plenty of other work you can do, regardless.” Richard nodded his agreement, and the director left to return to his office. Closing the door, Richard went to his kitchen, where he had a couple of tuna sandwiches and a glass of milk for lunch. As he ate, he carefully considered the director’s words. He had long since forsworn ever using any form of drugs or steroids for athletic purposes again as long as he lived, and he had no intention of changing that decision. Still, the director was right about the availability of new supplements, some of which, Richard knew, had been, and still were, achieving remarkable results for a number of rising young athletes, including several whom he was personally acquainted with. He decided to talk the matter over with some of them, and see what they said, before he made a final decision. After lunch, Richard drove to a gym he knew was frequented by the young athletes he wanted to talk to. Without exception, they all assured him that there were a number of new supplements now on the market that were capable of helping him build his muscles back up as big as he could possibly want, without requiring the use of steroids. Among the most popular and potent of these were a group of supplements based on a plant with the scientific name of moringa oleifera, said by many nutritionists to be the single most nutrient-rich plant on the planet. The supplements utilizing this species had not been available when Richard was growing up, which was why he had never heard of them before. The next day, Richard drove back to work as usual. After checking in, he went to the casting director’s office to talk the matter over with him. The director was relieved to see that his young stuntman was in a far better frame of mind than he had been the day before. They discussed his situation and came up with a development plan that suited both of them right down to the ground. Richard would resume his bodybuilding regimen, but this time he would use only the moringa-based supplements he had heard about, which would be obtained for him by the studio. No steroids of any kind would be used. From the very start, Richard would be under the supervision of both a studio doctor and a licensed, certified personal trainer, both of whom would monitor his progress, and would either modify or call a halt to the regimen if either one felt it necessary. For his part, Richard would always retain the absolute right to call off the arrangement if he was not happy with the results. In the meantime, the development of the new series would continue, with Richard being the first on the list of candidates to be considered for a starring role. Until then, he would continue his stunt work, as well as a regular schedule of work-outs both at the studios and at the gym where he had first found out about the supplements. In order to obtain the best possible pricing, Richard would sign up as a distributor for the supplements in question, although the studio would actually pay for them, subject to the manufacturer’s approval. Once the details had been hammered out to Richard’s satisfaction, a formal contract was prepared be-tween Richard and Universal Studios for the development project. After it had been reviewed and approved by his manager and his lawyers, Richard and the director both signed the contract, and shook hands on the bargain. As Richard left the office, he actually felt himself tingling with excitement at the prospect of “muscling up” again. Unlike his previous bodybuilding experience, however, this time he was in control, rather than his father, and he would decide how big he wanted to get, rather than having his father constantly injecting him with steroids in an effort to accelerate and amplify his muscle growth beyond all reason, thereby risking potentially dangerous side effects that could damage his health for years to come. This time around, he would avoid using steroids or any other form of per-formance-enhancing drugs altogether. Instead, he would make exclusive use of food supplements which were designed and intended to improve his health overall, as well as help his muscles to grow to their fullest natural potential. With a feeling of mastery over his situation such as he had never had before, he headed for the gym to contact the young bodybuilder whom he had first spoken to about the moringa-based supplements and sign up under him to become a distributor. It would be up to the studio to conclude the remaining arrangements. Once the basic arrangements were firmly in place, Richard set about resuming his bodybuilding career. To his surprise and delight, his body responded to his new regimen with the most explosive muscle growth he had ever dreamed of. As his muscles grew bigger and stronger, Richard’s overall energy level went higher and higher. From the very start, his continuing efforts were recorded on film for use in the projected series, which Richard had readily agreed to. It took only a few weeks for the thick layer of fat he had allowed to accumulate over his muscles to melt away and disappear, leaving behind an increasingly impressive physique which soon progressed to a level that was awe-inspiring. It wasn’t long, in fact, before Richard was actively being urged by his training partners, and even his personal trainers, to at least consider actively competing for any of several different titles. Richard, however, was not entirely enthusiastic about such a scenario, due to the increased prospect of being manipulated into using drugs, to say nothing of the politics involved. He was greatly relieved when, after a frank and honest discussion of the issues involved, they agreed to back off on the idea. The studio made a point of filming these discussions, feeling that the public should be made aware of these issues and the pressures they brought to bear on today’s young bodybuilders. For his part, Richard gladly agreed. By the time six months had passed, Richard’s muscles had grown so big that his physique was being referred to as “just plain freaky.” The studio felt that he was more than ready to portray the character they had originally had in mind, and so, for that matter, did Richard himself. To his shock and bitter disappointment, however, an internal power struggle at Universal, over which neither Richard nor the director had any control, resulted in the abrupt cancellation of the development project altogether. Angered and embittered by the entire affair, the former “Little Hercules,” now big enough to be referred to as “Ultra-Mega-Maxi-SUPER Hercules,” resigned from Universal altogether, never to return. (By this time, he was earning more from his supplement sales and from personal appearances than he ever had at Universal anyway.) With his career as a stuntman now behind him, Richard concentrated his efforts on building up his supplement business and his physique. His muscles continued to grow bigger and bigger and bigger. In fact, his muscles grew bigger and faster now than they ever had before—and he actually loved it! One major reason was that he was now in full control of his career and his destiny, instead of his father or the studio dictating what he should do. As his muscles and his income continued to grow, Richard began dressing in outfits that were increasingly lavish. He subsequently bought his own gym, and a horse ranch as well, where, with the aid of qualified instructors, he taught young boys and girls, especially from underprivileged or abusive backgrounds, how to make use of bodybuilding to rebuild and reshape their destinies. In connection with his efforts, both Richard and his mother both participated in abuse counseling, as he was determined never to follow in his sire’s abusive footsteps. To top it all off, and to his great joy, Richard met, and later married, an extreme femuscle lady whose ideals and principles were identical to his own. Now entering his 30’s, Richard Sandrak was finally able to look forward to a happy and fulfilling life.
  7. EDIT: Story now includes an extended ending Hello everyone reading, this will be my second story post ever, hope it's good and I'll appreciate any feedback I would like to state up-front that I don't intend to make a sequel to it, but I might play with the Venom theme in other future stories since the Symbiote lends itself well for muscle growth storylines. Sadly I didn't have the time make visuals for this story too, but I do really like adding a couple of illustrations for stories, so if anyone can and would like to contribute scenes to add to the story feel free to hit me up or post below and I'll integrate it Spidey and Venom’s Experiment It had been a while since Spider-Man and Venom had been enemies, they or better said, Peter and Eddie had somehow come to become something akin to acquaintances or maybe even friends. This came about after a few times when the duo had had to join forces against a common enemy. As much as Venom hated Spider-Man, he was also extremely dominant about his own territory and his prey and didn’t like the idea of anyone taking over his turf, but even more than that, anyone but him getting to take the Spider-Man made his blood boil. And as strong as Venom was on his own, he had reluctantly accepted Spider-Man’s help on more than one occasion when faced with an overwhelming opponent. After a few times, the tension between the two had managed to simmer down a little and they slowly started to talk more with each other as opposed to always being at each other’s throats, after all, sharing intel was important in keeping an upper hand on anyone who had it in for New York. _______________________________________________________________________ Peter and Eddie’s little alliance started to develop into something more like friendship as time went by and each started to forget the things that had made them sworn enemies in the past, and most oddly was that the Symbiote had its influence on Eddie reduce over time and as such it couldn’t rile his emotions up as much anymore against the Spider-Man and practically became nothing more than an extension of and under the control of Eddie as the Venom rather than a sentient entity with a will of its own. ‘Eddie’s become a pretty cool guy this past year’ Peter thought as he was pulling a t-shirt over his head. He was getting ready to meet with Eddie; they had been hanging out for non-superhero related reasons more often as of late. Peter was going to go to over to Eddie’s place for a movie night. He was really curious to see Eddie’s place since it would be his first time there. ‘Okay, all done here, better get going before I’m late again’ Peter said while grabbing his keys and heading towards the door, glancing at the clock on the way out which read 21:07. _______________________________________________________________________ As Eddie put the bag of sweet popcorn in the microwave and saw 21:51 on the screen he said to no one in particular ‘that twig is late again as always’ as he grinned a bit from the corner of his mouth. Eddie had taken a liking to calling Peter ‘twig’ due to his lithe body, Peter wasn’t a fan at first but has grown used to it since. Eddie liked calling Peter this in part because he himself was a pretty built guy at 1,90m (6’3”) and 104kg of muscle, he was thick, broad, well-shaped and tall to boot, he couldn’t resist making fun of Peter’s small size in comparison, but in part he also found Peter’s lithe body interesting in a way, he couldn’t explain it. He would just sometimes stare aimlessly at Peter’s body, following its contours and shape, mapping it all out, looking him up and down, it just made him a little warm inside and he didn’t know why but he liked it, not that he would ever admit it to Peter, he was way too proud for that. As his thoughts drifted off he started to think how it had been a while since he had heard the Symbiote’s voice in his mind, It had stopped really taking over and Eddie had for all intents and purposes gained full control over the Symbiote’s powers now. It had struck him as weird but there was just so much he didn’t know about the creature that there was just no way to know why It’s consciousness had just faded away, maybe too much time bonded with another creature with a distinct personality? Who knows, but he did wonder ‘if I have full control over Its powers now I wonder what all It can do, It didn’t exactly come with an instructions manual’ as he was playing with some of the goo around his hand, changing its shape randomly. Ding dong, ding dong ‘So he’s finally here’ Eddie said as he left the popcorn to do its thing and headed towards the door. ‘Well hello, was starting to wonder where you had ended up, thought maybe the wind blew you away’ said Eddie with a sarcastic tone. Peter just rolled his eyes and entered the apartment panting a little ‘Sorry, I left the house late, got all the way downstairs, then realised I forgot the key to my bike’s lock, so had to go back up then down again’ Peter just slouched unto the sofa. ‘I’m sorry but can I bother you for some water?’ he asked Eddie. ‘Sure lemme get you some...’ he said trailing off all the while not taking his eyes off of the sweat-drenched t-shirt sticking to Peter’s figure. ‘Here you go twig’ gulp gulp gulp ahhh ‘Bless you muscle man!’. Eddie burst into laughter ‘Muscle man?!’ ‘Yeah, figured if you’re going to call me twig all the time I should have a name for you as well’ Peter said in a sarcastic tone. ‘Well well, look at that, Peter Parker giving me sass’ Eddie said as he got close to Peter climbing onto the sofa kneeling with one leg on either side of Peter's, and gently lifting Peter’s shirt off of him leaving him in nothing but his shorts. ‘You can’t be wearing this drenched thing on my sofa’ Eddie told Peter who in turn replied ‘Sorry about that, I biked as fast as I could’. ‘It’s cool, it’s a hot day anyway and I don’t have an AC sadly, besides I have plenty of laundry to do, now I have even more of an excuse’ Eddie said while taking off his own tank top he was wearing and tossing it into the washer with Peter’s t-shirt and a basket of laundry. Now standing there was the big brute in nothing but his boxers and socks, which didn’t go unnoticed by Peter who tried to play it off as best as he could. ‘Nice place you got here by the way muscle man’-Peter Chuckling ‘You’re gonna keep that up aren’t you twig?’-Eddie ‘Yep’-Peter ‘Yeah it’s a nice place and for $705 a month, a fantastic deal here in NYC’-Eddie ‘7-0-5??!! That’s cheaper than my place!’-Peter Wink ‘I know’-Eddie ‘Ugh no fair, but I’m glad for you’-Peter ‘So, back to the theme of the night, what movie are we watching?’ said Eddie as he threw himself unto the sofa with Peter ‘How about the new Batman movie?’-Peter ‘Ohhhh with Bane in it right? Yes!!!’ Eddie said with a certain excitement Eddie wasn’t just buff for fun, he had a thing for muscle, he found it beautiful and sexy on himself but also to admire, just taking a look around his small apartment one could see several posters of bodybuilders and lame inspirational gymrat quotes like ‘NO excuses!’. As well as a weight rack and bench in one corner with dumbbells on the floor around it. _______________________________________________________________________ ‘That was awesome’-Peter ‘Yeah, especially Bane and that venom he uses’-Eddie ‘So that’s how you got so big huh? You named your alter-ego with the Symbiote Venom because you got your hands on some of Bane’s venom wink?’ said Peter in a mocking tone ‘Hey!’ striking a double-bicep pose sitting down ‘These are all-natural and I got them long before the Symbiote came along’ said Eddie with lots of pride Peter was taken aback by the pose, it was certainly a sight to see, especially those hairy armpits of Eddie’s which looked like caves with huge lats behind them, framed by the thickest arms Peter had ever seen so up-close, he gulped but he wasn’t gonna let Eddie know he was impressed or Eddie would hold that over his head for eternity. But at that point Peter did feel a bit disappointed though that he wasn’t in a bit better shape to feel more confident, he knew Eddie didn’t call him twig or showed off to hurt him but to boost his own ego but it did get to Peter sometimes, the jealousy. He would just like to experience having a body that impressive just once. As Peter came back from his detour into his thoughts he found himself eye to eye with a curious-looking Eddie who was analysing his guest quite in-depth. ‘Geez, what?’-Peter Stares intensely for a bit ‘Did I hurt your feelings?’-Eddie ‘Shit, he figured me out that easily? I really need to stop giving away my emotions so easily’ Peter thought to himself in a fit of surprise. ‘Nah don’t worry about it’-Peter ‘You’re lying to me Peter’-Eddie ‘You almost never call me Peter’-Peter ‘I thought that would catch your attention, or at the very least not add oil to the fire’-Eddie ‘You’re too smart for your own good, be dumb and buff’-Peter ‘You wish, so are you gonna tell me or are you gonna tell me anyways but after I pry it out of you?’-Eddie ‘Fine... you didn’t really hurt me just so you know, I just get a little insecure sometimes, I mean you look pretty impressive and I’m just a ‘twig’ and it can be something I wonder sometimes like ‘man how is it to be that big?’ You know?’-Peter ‘Sorry I didn’t mean to call you that to chip at your confidence’ said Eddie with genuine remorse. Chuckling ‘Calm down Ed, I know that, it’s not your fault my mind runs amuck’-Peter ‘Don’t worry about it, can I go use your washroom though? I really need to pee after everything I drank’-Peter ‘Oh yeah, sure there pointing door to your left’-Eddie ‘Thanks! Be right back’-Peter _______________________________________________________________________ ‘Man didn’t mean to make Pete feel bad, wish there was something I could do though to boost his confidence, but muscles aren’t something you can get just instantly’ Eddie thought to himself. ‘Wish I had some of that venom Bane had. Or at least knew how to make it. I mean it’s probably some kind of steroid, and I can get my hands on those but again not instant enough, would still take months of work. So venom must be like a super steroid, hmmmm....’ ‘Okay so steroids work by introducing excess amounts of testosterone into the body as well as other hormones, which are mainly produced in the gonads, hence why your balls shrink on a cycle, they stop working in response to the excess....’ ‘maybe if there was a way to stimulate his body to do it on its own it would work but how? UGH!’ Eddie thought, rubbing his hair in frustration. Then it came to him ‘I wonder how much control I have over the Symbiote? I mean I know it can physically affect the human body, that’s how it used to control me and affect my emotions, and those are controlled by hormones breathes deeply I can do this....’ _______________________________________________________________________ ‘Man I feel like I have been freed from a prison’ Peter said as he sat back down with Eddie. ‘What’s up?’-Peter ‘Pete, you said you wondered what having a muscular body would be like right? Would you really want to have one if you could?’-Eddie ‘That came out of left field’ Peter thought but still replied with ‘I guess so, it IS really impressive and I guess it would just be an interesting experience, but building a body like that would take more time than I have’ ‘Okay, do you trust me?’-Eddie ‘What?’-Peter ‘Do, you, trust, meh?’ Eddie asked again in a playfully annoyed voice with a grin on his face ‘Yeah, of course, why the sudden question though?’-Peter ‘I can give you that body if you would want to try what I have in mind, it’s weird but I think I can do it if you want to of course’-Eddie ‘What? Really?! Has he gone crazy? Have I gone crazy? Why am I so excited, it can’t be, but I don’t believe Eddie would lie to me, especially not about something like this’ Peter thought to himself ‘So, will you trust me?’ Eddie asked again, sounding fully honest ‘Okay, I’m yours, what do you have in mind?’-Peter ‘So, I was thinking, steroids work by enhancing the naturally produced hormones in the male body...’-Eddie ‘Yo, Ed I don’t want to do steroids’-Peter Sigh ‘Could you let me explain and THEN give your opinion?’ said Eddie in an annoyed voice ‘Sorry, go on I guess...’-Peter ‘So as I was saying, it supplements what your body naturally has and does, and I was thinking back about Bane and his venom, how it goes straight into his bloodstream and makes him grow like it’s a super-concentrated amount of the hormones which have an instant effect’-Eddie ‘Uhu... continue?’-Peter ‘Stay with me, so I was thinking how could I achieve a similar effect in your body maybe. Then it came to me, the Symbiote, it controlled us, our emotions and behaviour when we were with it remember? It has the ability to modify our hormones, so maybe I can use it in a different way, to affect other hormones’-Eddie Peter made a face of sudden realisation and interest ‘Ha! See! So now that I have full control over the Symbiote, I think, if you are up for it I can send it into your body and make your body make itself more muscular by changing how it works’-Eddie ‘That’s, that’s, that’s actually quite genius that you came up with this’-Peter Grinning widely ‘Hey, I’m brawn AND brain, cut me some slack’ -Eddie _______________________________________________________________________ ‘Hmm.... okay, honestly I’m still unsure, but... I trust you, I’m all up for this, what do you need me to do?’-Peter ‘Great! I know I can do this, for you at least. Okay well the primary hormone for muscle growth is testosterone, right? That’s produced in your balls, so this is weird, but I will need you to take your pants off’ Eddie said hesitantly Eddie was confident this method would turn Peter away from trying it but to his surprise, Peter gave a grunt but then reluctantly took off his pants and underwear and sat back down ‘Okay do your thing’-Peter ‘You really trust me that much?’-Eddie ‘Yep, so you better not disappoint me’ Peter said candidly Grinning ‘Okay’ -Eddie Eddie raised his hand and the Venom goo started to coalesce on his right hand, he then brought it down to Peter’s cock, and suddenly the Venom lurched towards the piss-slit entering Peter more forcefully than he had anticipated, he screamed at first but shortly after started squirming and moaning. Eddie watched, taken aback by how much his heart pounded seeing Peter like this, wrapped in painful bliss with his dick rock-hard. The Venom kept making its way inside Peter until it reached the balls and started accumulating. Peter lurched again as his balls started swelling, to the size of hen eggs, then slowly into lemons, then into the size of oranges, it was mesmerising. Once they were full and plump Eddie commanded it with his mind to surge Peter’s body with a new compound they would modify from Peter’s own testosterone and that’s when it started. ‘Ah, Ahhh, AHHH!!! AHHHHH!!!!!’-Peter ‘What’s wro...’-Eddie Eddie didn’t need Peter’s reply to get an answer, he stared as veins started to bulge, starting at the ballsack, swelling thick as rope and moving their way upwards, onto Peter’s shaft. Up his crotch onto his abs. Down his quads, and that’s when the growth started. ‘Wow .... ‘-Eddie Eddie saw as the thick veins he saw expanding like the root system of a plant, turning dark as if tar was following through them instead of red blood. Which was followed by the sudden but slight growth of whichever muscle the black liquid reached through the new network of veins. It was an amazing sight. First the quads, they swelled a bit bigger, then a bit more, it came in waves. ‘AHHH UGH NGH UGHHHH!!!!’-Peter Then suddenly the growth bursts got more intense, Peter’s legs went from those of a guy that regularly biked to those of a sprinter, then to those of Robert Forstermann. The quads and calves swelled like balloons, Eddie enthralled by all the individual muscle heads, the striations and the veins that only grew thicker. Moreover, the after-pulse left in them only made the whole thing more surreal and, well, arousing to his sudden realisation. ‘Holy shit Peter ...’ Eddie trailed off as the growth continued, Peter only panting heavily. The growth next went up his abs, the veins growing thicker all of a sudden. GROAN-Peter Each of the individual mounds of the abs started to pulse, thicker and thicker each time till they protruded enough that you could hide your finger in the grooves between them. Eddie was especially turned on by Peter’s particular ab arrangement. His bottom 4 ab mounds had joined in a somewhat U shape with 4 more individual ones above it, making Eddie feel a chill down his spine as he started sweating from everything he is seeing. The growth hit his obliques and apollo’s belt next, making them swell into thick masses gorgeously shaped and framing Peter’s fantastic overly developed. ‘NGH YEAH!’-Peter As Peter was getting into the transformation, his lats were next affected, the body seemingly reacting stronger and stronger to the new hormone in contrast to the slow growth of his legs the lats simply burst outwards, huge, meaty, veiny and striated drawing a hellish scream from Peter’s mouth. They spread like wings and were enormous like a body builder’s lats, they glistened with Peter’s armpit sweat and were decorated by a gorgeous armpit with a beautiful tuft of brown hair. SCREAM ‘OH GOD! IT HURTS, IT HURTS SO MUCH! MAKE IT STOP, MAKE IT STOP EDDIE!’ Peter said as tears welled in his eyes. ‘I can’t Peter, I’m sorry I’m sorry, the hormone is already flowing through your system it’s not my Symbiote anymore doing anything’ Eddie said in a very worried and apologetic voice as he saw that Peter was truly in pain. Next the black veins reached Peter’s pecs which also burst forward into two huge mounds of pure manliness, giving Peter a cleavage any man, and woman, would be jealous of, they were monstrous and well-rounded, thick enough that they’d make you drool, and each crowned with a thick, delicious nipple that seemed to have grown bigger as well, getting as thick as a finger sticking out about 3 centimetres, aiming almost straight down. Eddie could only stare dumbfounded at Peter’s developing body, some drool escaping his mouth which hung ajar. The growth intensified as the veins raged thicker and darker from the pecs onto his shoulders, down his arms, and up his neck. ‘You’re almost there Peter, hang in there’-Eddie The deltoids on Peter swelled into huge round spheres to the sound of Peter’s screams as the growth moved down his arms. First, the triceps swelled in two stages becoming engorged into a ridiculously thick horseshoe shape, with the long head growing especially large. Then came the biceps blowing up into a solid ball like a softball ball but with a vein running on top of it that looked like a snake with how thick it was, the throbbing and swirling it came with adding to the likeness of a snake. Finally, the growth reached his forearms as they thickened with cords of muscles, swelling nearly as thick as the biceps themselves, rough and manly Eddie thought to himself. They looked like Peter’s hands could crush diamonds with forearms that large, they would give most guy’s legs a challenge. Lastly, the growth reached Peter’s traps, whom at this point was red in the face, panting drooling and screaming from the pain he was going through. His traps swelled and grew from his shoulders down his back, it was large and plump, joining up with his neck but not overwhelming it so it still looked like distinctive parts of Peter’s anatomy. And then suddenly Peter breathed a breath of relief and seemed to have passed out, his veins started to turn back from black to pale green and skin coloured but not losing any volume, still looking sickly engorged like roots atop his muscles. ‘Peter, Peter, are you okay?’ said Eddie to his friend who seemed to be out cold. His chest heaved up and down so at least Eddie was sure Peter was alive. However, just as Eddie thought the transformation was over, the final growth seemed to be hitting Peter’s dick which was a nicely average 14cm (5,5”) but soon started ballooning larger and larger to Eddie’s shock who was right in front of it as he had been squatting at this point in front of Peter who was on the couch. ‘Holy shit,....... that thing must be 18cm now? 22? 25?!’-Eddie said, mouth agape The growth finally seemed to stop somewhere around 30cm (12”) long and 20cm (8”) in circumference, with balls that had swollen to match as well, about as big as a grapefruit. The massive thing just stood there hard and bobbing lightly up and down in front of Eddie while slowly going limp. Eddie had never thought of himself as gay, but after seeing Peter transform, and definitely after seeing his dick grow into this behemoth he was experiencing all kinds of feelings he had never felt before or at least not in this context or combination, lust, wanting, fear, confusion, curiosity, jealousy, especially jealousy. Eddie was 1,90m (6’3”) and 104kg of muscle, Peter’s about 178cm (5’10”) and used to be maybe 77kg at best, but now, Eddie was guessing he might weigh nearly as much if not more than he did himself. Peter was now a freak, he’d give a professional bodybuilder a run for their money. He was jacked to hell and probably no more than 6% body fat to boot, you could see every vein, every striation, every individual muscle group, it was like an anatomical model intended for medical school except the muscle mass was cranked up to the max, Eddie had never before been intimidated by anyone, at least not anyone he knew in person, but now Peter was the one guy to make him insecure about his own size.... and maybe some other feelings as well? _______________________________________________________________________ ‘Peter, Peter!’ Eddie said in a worried tone, it had been about an hour since Peter had transformed and passed out and Eddie was starting to get anxious. ‘Pete, please wake up’ Eddie said again to the seemingly unconscious muscle-giant that was Peter with angst in his voice. Peter’s eyes snap open ‘Peter? I’m so happy you’re awa...’ said Eddie, trailing off as he realised Peter’s eyes were entirely unresponsive and blank when suddenly Peter launched himself from the couch grabbing Eddie quicker than his brain could process, slamming him onto the floor. ‘PETER WHAT’S GOING ON WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!?!’ Eddie yelled in fear towards the unresponsive Peter who was now pinning Eddie’s legs open. The beast then proceeded to rip Eddie’s boxers right off, exposing his ass which Peter seemed to have locked his eyes on. ‘NO, PETER PLEASE, I’M SORRY I DID THIS TO YOU, PLEASE FORGIVE ME, DON’T DO THIS!!!’Eddie screamed as he desperately clawed at his formerly kind and gentle friend, he feared both what was about to be done to his body as well as having destroyed his best friend, the realisation that he really loved Peter dearly coming forward in his mind, Peter being the only person who ever got to really know him in-depth even though they were enemies at one point it never stopped Peter from being kind to him after they settled their differences even when Eddie seemed to still doubt Peter’s intentions for a very long time before he got comfortable with his presence Peter never seemed to put up any defences against Eddie. Suddenly, Eddie felt a sudden and piercing pain like a bone being broken coming from his behind as the beastly Peter shoved his monstrous dick up his ass without any semblance of lubricant, or tact, forcing his hole open wider than it was ever meant to, impaling him down to the balls in a fraction of a second. Then Peter started pounding like a machine that was designed to drill through rocks, he pounded Eddie like he wanted to kill him with his dick, and his face like an angry beast sure gave Eddie that idea. This drew a most gut-wrenching scream from Eddie who was crying at this point and had a frightened face like that of a child. This sight seems to have been the one thing to bring Peter back from wherever he had been lost in his mind, his pupils shrinking again and his eyes becoming focused. ‘Eddie? What the... What happened to me, my arms why are they so huge why.... EDDIE?! WHAT’S GOING ON?!?!?! WHAT AM I DOING TO YOU, I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY!!!!’ Said Peter in remorseful shock, but as he attempted to pull his titanic pole out of Eddie the pleasure he had been unaware of suddenly rocked him down to his core, his eyes rolling into the back of their sockets and he roared the most erotic moan anyone had ever heard and unloaded a cumshot into Eddie making him grunt and moan as the what seemed like a litre of cum filled him up to his stomach. As the bliss subsided Peter seemed to be coming back to his senses. ‘I’m... I’m so sorry Eddie, please forgive me I’ll pul... FUUUUCK!!!’ Peter couldn’t finish his sentence, while he was trying to pull out of Eddie, suddenly Eddie’s ass grabbed unto the mammoth dick like a vice, it felt amazing but nearly painful to Peter as he looked down to see what the hell could be going on when he saw what was happening to Eddie. Eddie let out a guttural roar as his body exploded, all his muscles suddenly engorged even larger, they expanded in every direction as veins as thick as power cords swelled under his skin feeding the muscles with unimaginable size, some of these veins coloured black in some points and slowly transitioning into grey and normal colour. His already impressive build expanded in waves, quickly approaching Peter’s current size, then quickly overtaking it, after what seemed like 10 powerful pulses of pure power the growth seemed to have stopped. ‘Christ...’ Peter whispered under his breath in shock and amazement, as his cock, which was actually now even harder than in his berserker stage earlier, was expelled from Eddie’s ass. If Peter was a beast after his transformation, then Eddie was a thing from mythology. His muscles appeared to be almost twice as large as Peter’s. If Peter would give a pro body builder a run for their money, then Eddie would reign supreme as Mr. Olympia, uncontested for as long as he lived. His arms were massive, his deltoids were like sculpted marble spheres, his abs reminiscent of an old European cobblestone street, his legs so large they begged the question whether he’d ever be able to wear pants again, and his cock, lord, his cock must have been at least 25cm (10”) in circumference and 40cm (16”) long, it was massive, could even beat a few gym regulars to a flex off, it was a grotesque thing. ‘Peter?’ came Eddie’s voice, sounding disoriented and scared. ‘Eddie! Are you...’ Peter trailed off, he had extended his hand to help Eddie but now he slowly pulled it back, ashamed and scared of what he had done to Eddie, he broke down into tears slumping unto his knees. He was sorry he betrayed his friend, he was sorry he raped him, he was sorry he had caused such a face scared for his life to be plastered on his friend's face when he came to his senses, he was sorry he had probably caused him physical damage with the monster he’d impaled him with, and he was sorry he had now turned him into a real freak, Peter at least was still human-like, but Eddie would never be a normal person anymore. He could never be forgiven. ‘Peter, PETER! WHAT’S WRONG? Don’t cry, please don’t cry’ Said Eddie as he ran towards his friend attempting to embrace him. Pushing Eddie away ‘DON’T TOUCH ME!!! I raped you, and now I made you into a monster, I’m sorry, don’t touch me, I’m not worth living...’ Peter cried in shame as he rolled himself into the tiniest ball he could make himself into. However, Eddie reached for him, and struck him across his face with the back of his hand, then again the other way now. With a face in surprise (not just surprise but also because that slap was carrying even more of a punch coming from the behemoth that was Eddie now) Peter looked up to Eddie who had a face of pure fury but pained at the same time. ‘Shut your mouth and don’t ever say that again’-Eddie ‘First of all, I was the one who experimented on you first, anything that happened therefrom was my fault’-Eddie ‘SECONDLY, I don’t care what happens, ever, you are never to say again that you aren’t worth living, or I’ll beat you bloody and senseless myself until your brain starts functioning properly again’-Eddie ‘GOT IT?!?!’ Yelled Eddie at Peter who winced at the loud words, still taken aback by what has happened, and more so as Eddie started to cry staring right into his soul. Slumping down in front of Peter ‘Just stay the Peter that I know okay, I thought I had lost you there for a bit’ Said Eddie as he hugged Peter, crying his eyes out. ‘Sorry I worried you...’-Peter ‘Don’t apologise dumbass, I did it to you... I was scared I got rid of you’-Eddie ‘Still, I can see I worried you quite a bit’-Peter ‘Of course, I love you...’-Eddie eyes widened, fake coughing ‘Well I love you too, of course, you’re practically a brother to me’-Peter ‘And what if I thought of you as more than just a brother?’ Said Eddie in a monotone fashion looking straight into Peter’s eyes. ‘WhA? UhM you’re just still a bit confused and emotional Eddie, I think yo...’-Peter ‘Not really, I meant what I said and I’m very certain of what I meant’-Eddie ‘.............’-Peter ‘I know what I feel, I’m not crazy, I’m brain AND brawn remember? And you don’t have to reciprocate the feeling, I actually used to be very wary of you at first, I’ve never really been very close to anyone, and certainly didn’t have an interest in finding that in someone I hated as much as you.... but that changed....’-Eddie ‘I have been feeling weird towards for a while now, I just didn’t know what it was, it was all new to me, but seeing you transform.... I guess it finally pushed me over the edge.... my brain was overloaded, my heart was pounding, and I can’t even admit the thoughts I had about your body while watching it, one I will admit though for your sake is that I don’t regret what you did to me when you went berserk...... I might have even enjoyed it more than I should have..........’-Eddie Peter’s mouth hung agape and his eyes were as large as the world, whilst Eddie was turning red as a beet at the confession he had just made. .......................... Mustering up the courage to break the silence ‘I see.... well I can’t say I dislike how you look now, you are even more impressive now, but at least now I don’t have to be insecure around you’-Peter Pointing at his body ‘You like THIS?’ Said Eddie surprised, he thought he was too much now for anyone to find attractive but his worries have just been blown away with the words from the guy he was in love with ‘I mean... I’m hoping you like what you see too?’-Peter ‘From what I said earlier you should know the answer to that is yes twig’ Eddie said sarcastically ‘Besides, I liked it even before the extra meat’-Eddie Flexing his arm ‘More like a sturdy tree than a twig now don’t you think?’ Peter said with a smirk Doing a double bicep pose ‘Eh still looks like a twig compared to THESE’ Eddie said arrogantly but in good fun Bringing his right hand to his cheek, arm supported on his crossed legs ‘Great, I could make men and women cream themselves from just looking at me and I STILL can’t impress you!’ Peter said with a bit of sarcastic annoyance in his voice ‘Still, I know why I grew, but what happened to you?’-Peter ‘Not that I’m complaining about it....’-Peter ‘I think maybe the hormones I made the Symbiote create inside you, were leftover in your balls after the transformation so it was in your cum, and when you came in me, in that volume it reacted with the Symbiote inside me and had an explosive effect’-Eddie ‘And trust me I’m not complaining either because at least now I’m strong enough to take on that crazed fucking of yours again and actually enjoy it instead of fearing for my life, almost being fucked to death by a muscle rage machine’ Eddie said with a mischievous look. ‘I’m sorry about that...’-Peter ‘You can make it up to me by giving me a second chance to prove myself’ Eddie said sarcastically. ‘I think your new muscles came with extra arrogance too’ Peter said sounding slightly annoyed but intrigued by Eddie. ‘Oh no, whatever shall I do, could you help me with that oh Spider-man?’-Eddie Quickly grabbing Eddie and bringing him in close face to face to a dead-serious face, surprising even the overconfident Eddie, Peter whispered into his left ear ‘I will teach you that every hero has a bad side....’ as he heard these words Eddie felt the enormous meat Peter had now become hard below him even lifting him just slightly off of the floor. Gulp ‘I think I did create a monster in the end’ Eddie thought to himself. With hungry eyes and a shallow breath coming from his mouth Peter grabbed Eddie and flipped him right over. Eddie could barely grasp what was going on he felt his hips being pulled up, ass in air and knees on the cold floor. His own massive cock becoming rock-hard within moments slapping his torso forcefully, the head reaching just shy of his cleavage, however, he was still extremely nervous after his ‘traumatic’ experience with Peter’s new and improved dick when he had transformed. Although he quickly started to lose focus on that as he felt a moist tongue suddenly penetrating him without remorse, exploring his insides with the conviction one would explore uncharted territory with. MOAN ‘Ohhh Pete, Pete-er, I haven’t done this before go a little easi-AAaaAoOn me’-Eddie Peter pulling his tongue out of Eddie ‘Never huh? I honestly wouldn’t believe you if I didn’t know you as well as I do because the face you're making right now tells me you wouldn’t be able to live without it’ Said Peter in a playful but mischievous tone while staring at Eddie ‘Shut up, don’t think just because you’re a bit more buff now that I’ll be your playthi-High pitched whimper’ Eddie said as Peter suddenly sucked on his hole forcefully ‘Oh really?’ Said Peter in a sarcastic tone while licking his lips ‘Well that high pitch you just hit would beg to differ’ –Peter ‘Don’t mess with me twig’ Said Eddie clearly a few shades redder than he was just a few seconds ago 'So even a guy like you can become flustered....?' Peter thought to himself taken aback by the adorable expression on that muscle freak's body ‘Oh.... well then, prove it mu-scle-man’-Peter Eddie couldn’t take the humiliation anymore, he was the dominant one out of the two of them, not Peter, he couldn’t believe how much control Peter had over him just by giving him a rim job, he had to turn the tables on him before he loses out to Peter, if there is one thing stronger than Eddie’s lust (besides his new and improved muscles) it was his ego. He quickly grabbed Peter with his legs in a leg cradle move bringing him down to the ground then turning around and pinning him in place. Being on top of Peter like this, having the control again Eddie understood why Peter was enjoying it so much, and his titanic cock agreed. ‘Hey, come on, I was just starting to enjoy it....’ Said Peter dispirited ‘Well, I have an idea for something you might enjoy, I know I will at the very least’ Said Eddie with a lustful look, propping Peter’s legs up on his own shoulders and placing the head of his cock on Peter’s hole ‘Hey, Ed, you’re not serious right?’-Peter Smirking –Eddie ‘Ed, no, you can’t put that thing in me, mine almost broke you and mine’s still human, you can’t be serious’ Said Peter clearly worried Eddie accumulated saliva in his mouth before pouring it over his massive pole, lubricating its length up and down and starting to move in closer to Peter, as close as he could without entering him. Peter was sweating profusely at this point and was starting to freak out. ‘Yo, YO, YO, YO ED, you can’t be serious, you’re gonna kill me with that thing’-Peter Grabbing Peter’s cock and kissing it ‘Don’t worry, I took yours when I was normal, I’m pretty sure that new body of yours can take much worse than this, I mean what else are these delicious Groping Peter’s Pecs muscles good for then, you musclebound spider?’ Said Eddie arrogantly with a very prideful and almost evil look in his eyes That’s when Eddie grabbed Peter by the shoulders and started pushing Peter unto his monstrous shaft, swiftly penetrating him down to his balls in one smooth controlled movement, all 40cm (16”) of it, knocking the wind out of Peter. The thing’s head had ended up two-thirds of the way up Peter’s oesophagus, almost reaching into his neck. He was literally choking on Eddie’s dick but from the wrong way. When he reached all the way inside Eddie, Eddie collapsed partially unto Peter below him, it felt amazing, no, more than amazing, it was indescribable, it rocked Eddie to his core, his best judgement was a small boat in the storming state that his mind was in right now and Peter was going to pay dearly for it as he started to pull out of Peter. ‘SHIIIIIIT, NGHHH UHHH!!!!’ Peter yelled in erotic fury, his mind going blank from the pleasure he was being subjected to. When Eddie had pulled out about three quarters of the way, he then mercilessly slammed the whole length back in in one shot. Drawing a perverted and painful scream from his victim. This only feeding more into the animalistic side of Eddie that had taken over. The old Venom had nothing on the sadistic sexual hunger that Eddie embodied right at this moment, in fact, it would have seemed quite tame in comparison. Eddie, with a Cheshire grin plastered on his face, started to progressively pull out about halfway then ram Peter’s hole full throttle, picking up the pace with each audible WHACK! that echoed through the room followed by a loud moan that could only be described as immorally erotic. As Eddie had let himself fall into hedonistic depravity, an hour and a half in, he was pounding Peter in the bulldog position as if he was trying to make minced meat out of the poor boy, the amazing Spider-Man had been reduced to nothing more than a muscle-bound nearly sexually-comatose sex toy for the Venom. He had fucked him doggy, pile driver, jockey. Up, down, and side-to-side, on his back, on his knees, on his stomach, up-side-down. Peter’s asshole didn’t even function anymore and he was starting to wonder if his prostate had been obliterated. Every attempt at a protest or for a rest-stop out of Peter’s mouth was quashed by Eddie giving him a harder than normal fuck shutting him right up. Peter couldn’t hold out much longer. ‘Ed, I... UGH! I can’t GAHHH FUCK! EDDIE I’M FUCK FUCK FUUUCK’-Peter ‘Just shut up and just let me make you mine, only mine...’ Eddie whispered into Peter’s ear as he carry-fucked him, moving him up and down like a glorified fleshlight His words made Peter’s eyes light up like stars on a clear night and that’s when he reached his limit ‘FUUUUUUUCK!!!’ Peter said as Eddie rammed his asshole one last time ‘NO you WON’T!’ Eddie said as he grabbed onto Peter’s cock with his mouth sucking down so hard it locked him unto it and that’s when it happened. Peter roared as a massive load shut up flooding Eddie’s throat so forcefully he almost let go, but he was steadfast and sucked even harder, then it happened again, and again, 8 huge shots. Eddie’s stomach had distended a bit just from the volume as if he had been in an eating competition. By the time he let go, Peter was drenched in sweat from the orgasm he had and Eddie was exhausted and nauseous from the cum he just drank. From the exhaustion he let go of Peter, he was held up by Eddie’s pole still inside him but as Eddie started to go limp he slid down and off of his dick falling to the floor exhausted, Eddie came crashing down on his own as well, one arm on either side of Peter just barely holding him up, and as Peter looked straight at the musclegod that just fucked him to heaven, hell, and back, Eddie, with his mouth still full of Peter’s cum, grabbed him and gave him a french kiss that should be written down in history books, coating Peter’s mouth and forcing him to swallow his own cum, their tongues wrestling each other as if it were an Olympic match. After what seemed like 20 minutes of ferociously eating each other’s tongues they finally broke the kiss to the sound of cum dripping onto the floor. ‘Holy shit’ Said Peter, his body shaking slightly ‘You’re all mine Spidey, don’t forget that’ Said Eddie in an arrogant tone but with soft eyes that betrayed his words with his true desires, that he was simply in love with Peter -------The End------
  8. Next Us Valley

    Next Us Valley Chapter 1 “Five.” “Six.” “Seeeeeeven.” Matt let the weight drop with a thud and stood up. He looked at himself in the gym’s mirror. Feeling pumped and drained after the set, his reflection was impressive. He caught a pair of eyes from a skinny kid behind him, they both pretended to be looking at something else. Matt smirked in self satisfaction, even though he wasn’t lean and ripped, he drew his fair share of staring in the gym. “What’s up big guy?” Matt felt a large calloused hand thump him on the shoulder and looked up to see Stu, the biggest bodybuilder he knew and had the pleasure to call his friend. “This is it,” he said, looking with jealousy at his friend’s vein-corded arm. “Arm day today?” “Nah man, leg day.” Stu hiked up his shorts for Matt who rolled his eyes, of course it was leg day. “See?” Stu said as he hiked up his shorts. Matt ogled his friend’s pumped tree trunks with jealousy and perhaps more than a little bit of lust. “Oh.” “What about you big guy? What are you working on today.” “Chest.” Stu looked briefly down at his friend’s abdomen. “Good good. Gotta make those titties grow!” he said, giving Matt a playful punch in the pecs. “Look, I’ve gotta get back to it. See you later!” He lumbered back to the squat rack. Matt’s eyes widened as he watched his friend lift the bar, which bended slightly over his back. Matt’s eyes narrowed as he tried to dismiss thoughts of his friend. He tried to focus on the rest of his lifts, and succeeded mostly. Though in between sets his eyes wandered in the mirror to the squat rack, leg press, and then calf raise as Stu made his rounds. And Matt wasn’t his only admirer. As the heavyweight bodybuilder moved around the gym, heads turned, like predators watching their prey. Matt grunted as he re-racked his last set. He wasn’t sure what he felt more for his friend, jealousy or lust. Did he want to be him or did he want to be with him? He saw how Stu attracted the attention of seemingly every other man in the gym, even if they tried to hide it. That’s what happened when you were the biggest man in the gym. Matt gritted his teeth and admitted to himself, he wanted to be the biggest guy in the gym. But if he wanted to be the biggest guy in the gym, bigger than Stu even, than what would he do to get there? He considered this as he walked into the locker room, as he showered, and was still mulling the question as he stepped out into the gym’s dusky parking lot. At home, he slung his gym bag onto the couch. He followed the same post-gym routine that he had for years. Rinsing the preworkout from his shaker bottle, dumping an overladen scoop of whey, and shaking it into a shake with water. He downed it unceremoniously. After years he didn’t even think about the taste, it’s only purpose was to deliver protein to his exhausted muscles in the hopes that they would grow. The sad reality was that his muscles had almost completely stopped growing. He was only gaining a few pounds a year, and it was up for interpretation whether it was fat or muscle. As he had done many times before, he sat on his couch next to his gym bag and flipped open his laptop. He needed to release some pent up testosterone from the gym. He tapped on private browsing mode and began typing tumblr into the address bar. He thought back to Stu. He tapped backspace a few times and instead typed in beginner steroid cycle.’ He’d been down this rabbit hole before. Hours later Matt lay passed out on the couch, his face harshly lit by the screen of his laptop. He hadn’t made any decisions. He wanted to take his body to the next level, but something stopped him from taking the plunge… Matt grunted. The glow of his laptop screen stung his eyes. When his vision cleared he saw an ad for the new 24 hour gym down the street, it was a franchise he had never heard of. He glanced at the time, 4:00 AM. He rolled his eyes and got up to make his way into bed. Bed was warm, familiar, and he could stay there until he had to go to get up for work. As soon as he stood up however, he felt different, agitated perhaps. Angry? No. He gritted his teeth, motivated was the right word. He didn’t need drugs to change, he just needed to put in the damn work. With this thought, and no other thoughts, he slung his gym bag over his shoulder and left his dark apartment. The gym ad shined brightly for a few seconds before the laptop’s screen dimmed to black. --- Matt only began to feel a little foolish when he pulled into the gym’s parking lot. It was a quick drive, only ten minutes away, but it was a part of town that he was surprisingly unfamiliar with. Also, he had forgotten that he would likely only be able to buy a membership during business hours. He sat in his car for a moment contemplating without thinking.He thrummed his fingers across the steering wheel as he looked at the building. Despite the light pouring out of the gym’s windows the place almost looked abandoned. He gripped the gear shift with the intention of backing out of the parking lot and heading back to bed. He felt a pang of agitation, something between anger and motivation. Instead of shifting into reverse he shifted into park, took the key out of the ignition and opened the door. The night was dark and cool, he walked into it, letting the car door close behind him. He pressed the lock button and jumped at the sound of his car horn in the silence. Shivering slightly he made his way to the gym entrance. He didn’t glance around to notice that his car was the only one in the lot. “Hello?” Matt called weakly. He stood just inside the entranceway, next to a small office window where he assumed a staff member would normally be to let clients into the gym. He looked into the gym itself, surely he couldn’t just walk in… Feeling irritated at himself he turned to head out. As he reached for the door that feeling of agitated motivation swelled in his chest again. No thoughts. He turned and walked into the empty gym. Matt shivered as he stepped under the gym’s bright fluorescents. Tinny pop music played from some unseen location. The gym was empty but well equipped. He shoved his gym bag into a locker, not bothering to lock it, and walked up to a squat rack. Images of Stu with a bent bar draped over his back flashed through Matt’s mind. No stranger to heavy weights himself, Matt loaded a couple plates on each side of the barbell. With a grunt he loaded the weight onto his back and stepped back a couple steps. “One.” “Two.” “Three.” He muttered each rep under his breath until he hit 12. He grinned, it was easier than he remembered, maybe these weights were slightly lighter than at his regular gym. He loaded another plate on each side of the bar, aware that he wasn’t warming up as much as he should have. He didn’t care. “One.” “Two.” “Three.” The bar rose and fell faithfully with every rep. Matt grunted from effort as he pushed up another 12th rep. He re-racked and leaned against a bar of the squat rack panting. He had lifted heavier, but never for so many reps. “Damn,” he breathed as he felt his quads tightening with a heavy pump. He loaded another plate on either each of the bar. He knew he should probably have a spotter for squatting over 400 lbs, but he didn’t care, and for some reason he woesn’t worried even though he was approaching his one rep max. He noticed with satisfaction thick veins beginning to show themselves under the flushed skin of his legs. “No problem,” Matt said to himself as he hoisted the bar up. He didn’t notice the slight sag in the bar as he steadied himself in the center of the squat rack. He gritted his teeth and sank into a squat. His eyes shut tight into a grimace as he strained to lift the weight back up. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to flair brighter for a moment as the bar rose again. He opened his eyes, he felt like he could go for another rep. He didn’t care how impossible the thought would’ve seemed to him the day before, he began to sink into another squat. “Agggghhhh!” He roared as he began to rise with his second rep. The lights flickered, Matt didn’t notice. The tinny pop music skewed and skipped as the bending bar returned to its starting point. Matt opened his eyes again. He saw himself in the mirror panting and dripping with sweat. His pumped quads strained the fabric of his shorts causing them to ride up a bit. He didn’t have a lot of muscle separation or vascularity, but he made up for that in sheer bulk. The corner of his mouth rose into a small grin as he began to sink down into another squat. “Third time” he thought to himself as he sank deep. He felt the bar on his back pushing him into the ground and all the muscle fibres of his legs straining to keep him up. He began to rise again. He let out a quiet guttural grunt as his legs bulged with the effort. The air around him seemed to still. The world went dark and the music grew quiet and then silent. Matt opened his eyes. He was standing solidly in the middle of the squat rack, weight balanced solidly on his back. But instead of his reflection in a mirror, he stood facing a metal door. Matt took a few small and careful steps forward. He let the bar drop onto its spot on the rack. There were no thoughts. He didn’t think about opening the door, he only felt the need to do so. There was no agitated feeling to tug him forward this time, his hand grasped the metal handle. He was surprised to feel a pleasant warmth radiating from it. He stared forward as he turned the handle and slowly swung the door open. He gasped as he stepped into the bright light beyond the door. --- The first thing Matt noticed was the heat. It wasn’t oppressively hot, but dry heat that didn’t feel right for an Ohio winter. As his eyes adjusted to the light he realized that it was orange sunlight streaming in from large windows in front of him. He turned to survey his surroundings. Another part to the gym? This section seemed to be for serious lifters only, he thought. A row of squat racks occupied one wall, the rest of the gym was a mix of benches, barbells, and dumbbells. There were no weight machines or treadmills in sight. Matt whirled around at the sound of the metal door banging shut. He tried the handle, stuck. “Uhh,” he muttered nervously. “Hey!” Matt yelped at the sound of another man’s voice and his hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Woah sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Matt looked up to see the other man, and then down. His eyebrows arched and he sucked in a breath. The stranger was 5 and a half feet of solid muscle. He wore a batman shirt with the logo stretched beyond copyright infringement by a solid pair of pecs and boulder delts. The yellow under armour logo on the sleeves was also stretched by the two monstrous arms hanging by the man’s side. The shorts did little to hide the man’s thick quads and “Hey.” Matt looked up at the man’s face and blushed at being caught so blatantly admiring the other man’s physique. The stranger just smiled. “My name’s Nick. I own the place.” He motioned around at the empty gym. “I just opened up, feel free to ask me questions if you have any.” Nick smirked knowingly. “No need to show your membership ID, I know you’ve got it with you.” “Well actually,” Matt began. “Right there big guy.” Nick pointed at Matt’s feet. Sure enough there was a plastic card there with his name on it, the words THE BASTILLE were splayed across the top in block letters. At the bottom in a pleasant green font it said Welcome to Los Grandes Picos, California! Where life starts anew. California? Matt looked up to Nick, who looked back at Matt with his little smirk. Oh boy, Matt sighed to himself. “I’m not really from around here.” Matt said, instantly feeling stupid with his cliche statement. “Oh and the name’s Matt.” “Well it’s nice to meet you Matt, and nobody’s from around here. Our little community, Los Grandes Picos, is home to lots of people just like you.” He winked. “I know you’ll fit in nicely.” And with that he turned and walked towards The Bastille’s front desk. He shouted over his shoulder, “don’t forget to let me know if you need anything! We can arrange for most things to be delivered to your room.” ‘My room?’ Matt opened his mouth to ask, but decided better of it. He felt like he would find out soon enough. He stuck his hand in a pocket on his gym shorts and felt a little metal object. Sure enough it was a small copper key with the words Halfway Motel and the number 5 on it. “What the fuck,” he whispered to himself. “Oh yeah. Change rooms are over there big guy.” Nick pointed with his oversized corded arm to a door with a male bodybuilder’s silhouette on the front. “You can lift with me for a bit before you check in to the hotel.” He smiled warmly. “If you like of course. Otherwise your stuff is in locker five. Nobody here bothers to lock their lockers, so feel free to grab it and go.” More mysteries and more questions, but Matt continued to hold his tongue. “Thanks.” He looked around at the equipment, his quads felt warm and full of blood from the squats. “I think I’ll take you up on that lift.” “Excellent!” Nick clapped his meaty hands together and then put one on Matt’s shoulder. “Looks like you already got the legs covered for today, chest and arms?” For emphasis Nick flexed into a double bicep pose and then a most muscular. Matt stopped himself just short of drooling. Nick relaxed his pose and tapped Matt on the chest as if to remind him where his eyes were. “Uh yeah.” Matt said. “That looks, I mean sounds, great.” He tried to look Nick confidently in the face. “Well great then. Let’s pump some fucking iron.” This time his grin was mischievous. Nick plopped onto a bench. He swung a meaty, vascular calf over the edge and straddled it. He let himself drop under the bar. There were already a few plates on either side of the barbell so Matt just had to stand behind and spot. After completing an impressive set of lifts Nick stood up and motioned for Matt to get under the bar. His chest was flushed with the beginning of a pump, Matt could see a few veins beginning to protrude in his neck and coming out of the top of his tank top. “This weight okay for you bud?” Matt nodded, though in reality he wasn’t sure, he hadn’t lifted that much since his powerlifting days. “Don’t worry bro, I’ll spot you. You won’t need it though.” He winked and punched Matt’s chest playfully. When he was under the bar Matt’s hesitation dissolved. He gripped it firmly feeling the power he needed to lift the weight surging from the soil of the valley, into the floor, and through his feet all the way up to his chest and arms. With a grimace and deep grunt he unracked the weight and let it descend to his chest. He tapped his lower pec and pushed the bar back up. “One,” he grunted. “Nice man. Look I should have mentioned something before.” Matt wasn’t listening, his vision had tunneled and Nick’s voice was a distant drone.“Two.” “This place. This valley. It changes people man. “Three.” “I mean, they’re mostly good changes.” “Four.” “Whatever you want really.” “Five.” “You see, the issue is-” “Six.” “-most people don’t really know what they want. They think they do.” “Seven.” “But they don’t really.” “Eeeight.” “Me? I knew exactly what I wanted… Oh? Need some help there buddy?” “Nine,” Nick said proudly as he pretended to help Matt lift the bar and rerack it. He gripped Matt’s meaty hand and helped him off the bench. Nick’s eyes flit between Matt’s face and pecs. “I better watch out,” he said with a sly grin. “Or I might not have the biggest pecs in the valley anymore.” Matt laughed. “Might take a few years before that happens, especially at the rate I’m going.” “I wouldn’t be too sure about that big guy.” Nick winked and then left to retreat back to the front desk. Matt shrugged. He was more than satisfied with the weight he had just put up. Maybe this gym had lighter weights than what was written on them? He sighed and lifted his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Ughh. Huh?” He frowned, his hand hovered an inch away from his forehead. He looked down to see the reason it had gotten stuck. Two impossibly large mounds of muscle were in the way of his forearm. His eyes widened with the discovery, and then he felt the weight of the massive pecs. He poked one gingerly. It was hard and squishy at the same time. He flexed and instantly felt the newfound power in his chest. He placed a hand over the granite muscle, his granite muscle, and felt veins and striations mounding up as he flexed. He felt his face growing red as a began tenting his gym shorts. “Uhhhh.” He found a mirror and stood in front of it. “Holy shit.” It wasn’t just his chest that was bigger. He was bigger everywhere. His shoulders formed round boulders and his neck was noticeably thicker and corded with muscle. His newly grown mountainous pecs pushed his tank top to its limits. And he let his thick and veiny gorilla arms hang dumbly by his side as he stared at his reflection. “I gotta get out of here,” he whispered to himself, eyeing the package in his shorts, which was bulging obscenely. “Thanks for the lift” he blurted to Nick as he strode past, determined to reach the front door without revealing to much to the bodybuilder at the front desk. He didn’t pause to consider how much deeper and louder his voice seemed. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” Nick called back. Matt pushed the front door open. He couldn’t help noticing the meaty thud his larger hands made on the tinted glass and the mass of veins and muscle in them that bulged under his skin. He instantly squinted and covered his eyes from the bright sunlight. It was warm and comforting on his sweaty skin. He slowly opened his bulky fingers and allowed the glare of the sun to filter through. A large orange sign with blue letters began to sharpen into focus. Welcome to Next Us Valley
  9. Chapter one is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13085-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake/ Chapter two is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13095-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake-chapter-two/ Professor Schnackenburg's mistake Chapter Three Lucien waited inside the entrance of The Dungeon at the far end of the gay street. He was dressed in a black rubber shirt with yellow stripes, in a cut which emulated a polo shirt, and he was wearing very tight black, shiny rubber trousers. Football socks on his feet, inside white-laced boots with high bootnecks. He couldn't decide his own state of mind. Not Chad! Eagerness, lust and resentment battled about his mind, the latter already slightly tipsy because of the vodka shots. Not Chad! * * * Back in primary school and secondary school, Chad had made life a hell to Lucien. They couldn't have been more different. Lucien's parents worked with 'something in City', and Lucien took piano lessons. Chad's divorced mother worked in the plastics industry, and Chad – who was a fan of David Beckham and Wayne Rooney – played football. In primary school, the bullying mainly happened outdoors, in the schoolyard. Lucien could remember trousers wet of melting snow, wounds in his palms caused by falling on rubble, and streams of verbal insults. In secondary school, it either happened on his way home or during lunch break. The worst lunch break ever, happened when they were about 14, or so. Chad had dragged him inside one of the loos, dipped his head in the toilet, took his dong out and pissed at Lucien, shouting about 'poofters who don't deserve to live'. Lucien had no idea of why or how things changed after that, but Chad left Lucien alone and more or less avoided him. A few years later, shortly before leaving secondary school for sixth form, they actually had a reasonably good conversation in the school cafeteria. Chad had sat down at Luciens table and apologised for his past behaviour (well, the words didn't fall exactly like that, but that was the content of the message). Chad had hit puberty, then. His pudgy belly had disappeared, but his pug nose was still there. Chad had switched from football to the gym, and achievements were beginning to be noticeable. That didn't change Lucien's resentment, much. When puberty hit him, Lucien could spend late nights fapping at the thought of taking revenge on Chad. At some – undefined – point in the future, Lucien should dare to buy a membership at a gym, and Lucien should grow into a confident muscle monster, which would beat the shit out of Chad and smirk at the weaker Chad lying there in front of him... The undefined point in the future didn't happen. Lucien remained on the slim side, and didn't grow tall. He was still uncomfortable with the thought of weight training, but began to swim at his leisure time. He was now somewhere between the age of 25 and 30, and was writing a PhD in musicology. He spent lot of time in the gay street, and wasn't aware of the other guests, when he entered his usual café – The Chocolate Cave. A rainbow flag hang outside the entrance. He ordered the usual: A café au lait, some petit choux and an apple tart with custard. Most of the customers weren't much of a surprise, he even recognised the faces of some of them: Several pairs and groups of twinks, a bearded activist in flannel from an earlier generation (whom he vaguely knew from committee-work for LGBTQ rights years ago), a group of football dykes, and a very young punk rocker reading a paperback by Judith Butler. He couldn't believe his eyes, when he was looking for a table and heard a voice he hadn't wished to hear: "Oi! Lucien! Over here, mate!" A man his own age waved at him from one of the tables. His broad (and tattooed) shoulders and mighty chest were revealed by the elastic black tank top (with the white print TOP in army letters), and his jeans were faded. The man's head was entirely shaved, and his ears were adorned with several sorts of piercings. Lucien wouldn't have recognised the man, if it wasn't for the voice and the pug nose. It was Chad. Hesitatingly, Lucien sat down at Chad's table. "Haven't seen you for years! What are you doing nowadays?" Chad had to drag the words out of Lucien's mouth, but Lucien told him about musicology and swimming. He didn't say anything about LGBTQ rights, but his thoughts were running in all directions inside his mind: Chad gay? But why did he behave like he did in the past? And why so friendly now? We all grow up. He had began to improve already at age 16, remember? Sexy Chad! "They can research anything, nowadays, can't they? Mu-si-co-logy. Never heard about it before. To me, research is about space rockets and medicine and atoms and stuff, not stuffy old musicians, but if it's up your alley, I don't complain. You like it, I suppose?" Chad emitted the scent of some anti-perspirant and soap. A big black nylon bag – with the letters GASP – laid on the floor close to Chad's adidas-clad feet. Lucien's string of thoughts continued to race: Can't find the old monster sexy! Not a monster any longer. Mature now. Those muscles! The entirely changed appearance! Not a pudgy little bully anymore. Neither a tiny twink of the type he usually dated. THAT'S a man. Can't... Can't... like him. Those eyes... Can't. "And another thing. So sorry about schooldays. I was really, really an idiot. A dickhead actually. So stupid. I'm so sorry. No, I really mean it. So sorry. Why would I have to be afraid of you, when I was, actually, myself, you know..." They continued to talk. For Lucien it was an invasion of his private sphere. An intruder sat in his comforting and familiar café, but what an intruder! When they had finished their coffee, Chad rose and bought them a bottle of low-alcoholic beer, each. "They don't sell anything stronger here. Regulations. I want to buy you something stronger some day. What do you say about a night out, together?" Lucien fell silent for a few seconds. "Don't take my 'yes' as I'm willing to date you, Chad. But yes, a night out couldn't harm. Any ideas?" "I'm not sure, if you have ever attended The Dungeon?" "That's not my usual fare, no. I'm more of a patron of The Rainbow Unicorn in the opposite end of the street. Opposite in two ways, actually." "I went there, once. Not my style. Lot of the stuff, which kept me doubting my sexuality for so long. The Dungeon is more my sort of place. I work there, actually." "Work there?" Lucien couldn't believe his ears. "As a bouncer. They have trouble with people sometimes. Sometimes new customers, who don't know the difference between The Rainbow Unicorn and The Dungeon. Those types I turn down politely, even with some advice how to dress at next attempt. About 50% return, dressed correctly this time. Then there are the anti-gay nutcases, who believe that it will be an easy match to break in, party-crash and beat up a few nellies. They expect nellies – then they encounter me at the entrance. The policemen don't mind if I give the nutcases a thrashing before I turn them over to the police." A familiar smirk at Chad's face. Lucien felt disturbed, but he felt excited, too. Chad with his TOP tanktop, defending twinks from gaybashers... "I haven't been there. How do I dress?" Chad rattled off some instructions, and, at the sound of it, he had done it before: "The club has a dress code. It is open for men who have sex with men, but also to their friends. Not necessary to put labels like 'gay' or 'bi' or such on the place: I don't know how many 'straight-bicurious' I have met there. It isn't a S&M place as such: Lots of members are not into S&M, but some are. Members may like to dress up in gear for several different reasons: For some it is a kink, for some it is a fetish, for some it is just fun, and not far from their everyday style – and they like the type of men who attend the place. Leather is the oldest style in the dress code. Lots of people are vaguely aware of the style... Do you know Tom of Finland?" "I've seen a few pics, but i am not familiar..." Chad's smirk returned. "You ought to be. Google it." Chad's grin became wider. White shining teeth. "That code was invented by queer bikers in the 1950s. Long before gay rights. Think Marlon Brando in The wild one. Old film. Lots of time since then, and the style has changed in many directions. There exist uniform shirts in leather now, for instance. Don't get me started about the jokes about Crisco. Well. Anyhow. Leather is the oldest code now, but there is army style... Anything army-inspired goes, well, not anything, but lots of choices there. Then, there's skinhead style, since at least the 1990s – some would say for longer. More recently guys following the chav or scally dresscode are allowed in... You get the picture, look as butch as possible, like you can take it like a real man, not like the patrons of the Rainbow Unicorn. Sorry. No offence. Well. You get the idea. Guys from the council flats mostly go for the chav or skinhead style, since that is cheaper. Full high-quality leather gear suppose a good salary. And then there's the rubber lads, of course." "Rubber lads?" Chad explained, and noticed with some glee how the older bearded gentleman in flannel at the corner table looked uncomfortable. "Money is not an issue, Chad. I will give you a phone call, when I have bought some appropriate gear." "I will buy you a membership, Lucien. It is the least I can do for you. Call me." * * * That had been two weeks ago. Lucien had unpacked the gear, and arrived to the club wearing it under a trenchcoat. A pre-payed membership awaited him at the entrance desk, which was manned by a mid-30s man with a jarhead cut, dressed in camo pants and an army jersey. The man at the counter forwarded a message: Chad was working until the middle of the night, but had promised to meet Lucien when the other bouncer began his shift. Absent-mindedly, Lucien heard a noice of a road accident from outside, but didn't peek out. A while later, he noticed a strange green light coming out from the windows of the gym across the road, but he didn't give it much of a thought. He couldn't decide his own state of mind. Not Chad! Eagerness, lust and resentment battled about his mind, his mind already slightly tipsy because of the vodka shots. Not Chad! But he couldn't deny that he was falling deeper and deeper in love with his old bully. Chad had changed. Chad was like himself. Chad was defending patrons of The Dungeon against gay-bashers. Lucien eagerly waited for Chad's shift to end, and they were going to explore The Dungeon together. Chapter Four is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13116-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake-chapter-four/
  10. Chapter one is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13085-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake/ Professor Schnackenburg's mistake: Chapter Two Cody was the biggest bro at campus, and he knew it. He was tired of the weakling sissies at the college gym, who wanted to 'get some muscle tone' but 'not become too big'. Cody very much disagreed: There was no 'too much'. There was no 'big enough'. Never too much! Never big enough! He had joined The Steel Factory gym outside campus, since it had got the heaviest free weights in town. As he had spread the reputation of The Steel Factory, some of the other students had also began to work out there: Jess, Jill, Jack. And Magnussen. And Tim. He pushed the heavy barbell in a focused and disciplined bench press, and he could feel his blood run to his chest, giving him a bloody awesome pump. Some strange greenish phosphorescent light shone in from the windows, and seemed to lit up the night outside the windows. And thunderclaps. Was it thunder? or northern lights? Or something. He returned to his workout schedule. Bench press. Barbell. Heavy. Pump. Gains. It was rather close to some of the buildings belonging to Arts and Humanities: The archeology students, the literature students, the historians... The only drawback with the location of The Steel Factory was, that the gay street began around the corner, and one gay bar faced the entrance to The Steel Factory. Cody liked to draw attention, but he didn't like to draw attention of gays. He preferred to draw the attention of female students like Jess and Jill. Jess. He became angry again. Jess. She had been his girlfriend for six months. He remembered the scent of her blonde hair, and her enthusiastic screams when he pounded her. Shit. He got a boner inside his training shorts. Well, if anyone commented, they knew he would hit them. He didn't expect anyone to comment. He felt insulted, when he saw Magnussen – the reasonably brawny Danish exchange student – work out with Jess across the room, over at the rowing machines. One day, he would tell Magnussen his mind. One day, he would give Magnussen a real thrashing, and prove who's the Alpha on campus. Jill, the brunette studying pharmacology, was sexy in a shy way, and when she was drunk at a party, she had confessed, that she was turned on by muscle, and she had worshipped him behind a sofa. He wanted to go further with Jill. Or conquer Jess and leave Magnussen in a pathetic little heap of shit, but he had to admit, that Magnussen had a good constitution when he arrived in the beginning of the academic year, and he had to admit, that Magnussen had got some real gains, as the term had went on. Or, he fantasised, he could persuade Jess and Jill into a threesome with him, and leave Magnussen destroyed. Yeah, like a real Alpha. Four boobs on him. Four hands exploring his quads and pecs. Two pussies eager for his Alpha cock. It sounded like a road accident outside the gym. Bench press. Barbell. Heavy. Pump. Gains. Jack, on the other side, was a true friend. A real bro. Someone to rely on and trust. Fucking awesome stud, even if he hadn't got the same gains as Cody and Magnussen. If he and Jack had been gay, Cody had been willing to give head to Jack, but since they both now were straight as an arrow, that would never happen. Jill had called Jack and Cody 'a bromance' a couple of times, what that was supposed to mean. Everyone seemed to like Jack. Cody watched Jack help Tim over at the old fashioned pec-dec machine. Tiny Tim. Bench press. Barbell. Heavy. Pump. Gains. Cody couldn't understand why Jack had to drag that little runt to the gym. Tim's presence just delayed their training schedule. Even if he was beginning to get the knack of how the machines worked, Tim hadn't used the free weights much, and he didn't achieve any gains to speak of. Subcutaneous fat was not the problem: Tiny Tim's abs were already visible when Jack brought him to the gym the first time, but it seemed like the shy kid couldn't pack on any brawn. Fuck! The little shrimp was, what was it, 20? But he looked like a scrawny 16 year old. Tiny Tim was dragging Jack and Cody down at the gym, but Cody hadn't been able to persuade Jack to leave Tim at the dorm. Fuck the little bugger. Bench press. Barbell. Heavy. Pump. Gains. Jack went to fetch a glass of water, and left tiny Tim in the pec-dec machine close to Cody. He could hear commotion and kerfuffle downstairs and in the next room. A weird sound like a high-voltage electric current. It almost sounded like the women downstairs came. And men with deep voices having fun. Weird. Ought he to check out what was happening? The attention of everyone else turned to the entrance. Cody had a schedule to follow: Bench press. Barbell. Heavy. Pump. Gains. He returned the barbell to the rack. In the doorway into this room stood a man... a being... ...who would normally have seemed displaced, since he looked like something out of a sword-and-sorcery film. Normally, a muscular dude wearing a leather harness, a leather jockstrap, furs and boots would look camp and cheesy. Normally. The towering being that gazed at the gym members in the room was beyond normality and beyond everyday life: It exuded power – unlimited physical and supernatural power, and it knew it, as it watched the now shocked gym members. The short hair on its head was a sort of golden blond. Its steel-hard muscle mass bulged in all directions, arrogantly exposing its naked, sun-tanned flesh. It was surrounded by an overwhelming nimbus of martial virtue, masculinity beyond all limitations and an expectation to be obeyed by everyone. Its eyes were ice blue and commanding. Cody's mind began a silent insane ramble: YES! THAT was what he would like to achieve. He had aimed at the impossible: Though he was impressed by bodybuilders from the past, like Schwarzenegger who made all these cool old action films with bad special effects, and though he was impressed by modern mass monsters like Jay Cutler, Justin Compton and Dallas McCarver, he dreamed about going far beyond the results of these men, but he had never been able to visualise his ideal goals in any clear way. Now, the man... the Being... which stood in the doorway, looked like the embodiment of his innermost yearnings and most secret imagination. Cody shivered. Slowly, rational thought crawled through the throbbing, feverish and aroused revelry, which was his inner monologue: What was this man, this Being, this man-god doing at the gym? What was it doing here? How was this in any sense possible? Naked, sun-tanned flesh. Masculinity beyond all limitations. Unlimited physical and supernatural power. Cody moaned. He could hear Jack letting out a yelp. Even tiny Tim moaned. The Being did a side-chest. The eyes of all present persons widened. The Being faced Jess and Jill. It made a suggestive thrust of its hips, and the sound similar to high-voltage electricity, that Cody had heard earlier, was repeated. Two currents of unknown and unholy energies emitted from the Being's crotch, zapped Jill and Jess between their legs, and the girls sank down on their training benches, their eyes rolled up in the skull, their bodies spasmodically twitching, and their mouths emitting feminine noises of excitement. The lights in the ceiling went out, but the dim light from outdoor street lamps fell in from the windows. The room became illuminated by a greenish, sort of, phosphorescent light. Cody felt hurt. He, not the Being, was the one who would take Jess and Jill to formerly unknown heights of pleasure. But at the same he was impressed. He wanted to be like the Being, to take part in its power, to share its essence. The Being waved its hand, and the gym disappeared. It felt like a dream. He was outdoors. It looked like a vast natural reserve, the sea not far away. Brooks running through the landscape with fish. Forests, but not very thick forests. Tall powerful men from the past in armed combat. Men like him, or, rather, men like he wanted to be. Loyal friends, protecting each other in battle. Hunters... Oh fuck! Hunters defeating large predators with large teeth with their bare hands... Alpha's of today looked insignificant to these men from the past. And then the sound of waves. Waves rolling in. A wave of water. A... that sort of... a wall of water, what's it called? A tsunami. He was back at the gym. By the look of their faces, his male friends all had seen the vision. Their female friends were still spasming on the training benches. "Men of the younger world." It was the first time the god-man Being spoke since its arrival to the gym. Its voice suited the way it looked: Deep, very deep, resonant. A battle cry and the promise of male voluptiousness. "Men of the younger world. I have shown you the glory, that once was Anghra-Lemur, but which is now The Sunken Hundred. I have returned over the gulfs of time and space. The powers of Anghra-Lemur are rising, and they will leaven the present world, and throw it away. I am the present embodiment of Kortoth-Gnaah, war god of Anghra-Lemur. I embody the power of thousand thunder gods. I embody the power of thousand sun heroes. Mine is the war frenzy. Mine is the battle cry. I fill brave men with duty. I fill the humble fighters with courage. I wipe the cowards and the evildoers away. I will allow Anghra-Lemur to rise again, because the time is at hand. But I need the raw material for the new men of Anghra-Lemur. I need those willing and those suitable, to become like the warriors of the forgotten time. My strength will permeate the chosen. My power will pervade the willing. My thew will saturate the suitable, and I will bestow upon them the divine powers of the forgotten god-heroes. I am Kortoth-Gnaah. I am willing to bestow all this." It seemed like all of the men were held under a spell, making it impossible to talk, only to think. The Being turned around, watching all of them. Cody's heart raced. YES! To hell with the bloody modern world. Some sort of Conan-world came crashing in. He couldn't comprehend how or why or what, but he knew one thing: He wanted to be in. Kortoth-Gnaah, wargod of Anghra-Lemur, watched Jack a few seconds. Then he stretched out his big hands in the direction of Jack. A green glow intensified around his hands, and then a powerful beam emitted and engulfed Jack in a sea of green, translucent, crackling power. Jack regained his ability to speak. "FUCK! So good! Can't believe it! Fuck! Look at me! My size! Growing! Can't believe it! Pump! Power! Pleasure! These biceps! Fuck! My traps, my back, my...! Oh! So good! Empower me, Master! Imbue me with... Nnnn. Fucking... Can't... Master... Growing..." Jack's rambling words turned into yelps, moans and grunts as he became taller, heavier and more muscled. Jack tensed, flexed, grew, his eyes staring in disbelief, and clothes from The Sunken Hundred materialising around him." Cody's heart was a sledge-hammer. Fuck, yes. Best friend. Jack. Bro. Becoming like a fucking Conan, a fucking He-Man... No! Far, far beyond those imaginary characters! Bro, becoming... Cody couldn't find words. And soon, Cody thought, it was his turn to receive the same blessing. He shivered. His cock throbbed. He was still pumped from the workout, and his antecipation was growing. Soon. Like Jack. Or The Being. Like Kortoth-Gnaah. Big. Big beyond measure. Jack was still growing beside the water vending, when Korgoth-Gnaah turned his attention to other parts of the room. Cody looked in disbelief, when Kortoth-Gnaah faced Magnussen. No? It couldn't be possible? Not the man who stole Jess from him. The green glow around Kortoth-Gnaah's big hands grew again, and a beam struck Magnussen, who began to grow in the same manner as Jack had done. Magnussen reverted to his native language, which sounded as a string of guttural sounds, which probably fitted the situation quite well. Fuck. He hadn't connected Danes and vikings before, but Magnussen was turning into – perhaps not what vikings actually looked like – but into the popular imagination about them. It wasn't fair. Not Magnussen! Not the one who distract Jess. Jess... She was returning to consciousness, and saw what happened to Magnussen. When the transformation reached climax, she ran to Magnussen, put her arms around his waist, pressed herself close to him, and shouted: "Fill me with your little viking babies!" He would have his revenge. Soon, very soon, their Master would turn his attention in Cody's direction, and he would have the same brutal power, the same strength, or even more of it, and he would show Magnussen who's the Alpha among the Master's housecarls. Soon. Kortoth-Gnaah turned around. He looked in the direction of Cody. Cody smirked. He braced himself. He couldn't imagine how it would feel, but he knew it would be better than anything he could imagine, if the behaviour of Jack and Magnussen was anything to go for. Soon. Naked, sun-tanned flesh. Soon. Steel-hard muscle mass bulging in all directions. Soon. He could see the green shimmer building up around Kortoth-Gnaah's big hands again, as he watched Cody. YES! MASTER! ME! SOON! Masculinity beyond all limitations. Soon! The green flames intensifying. Cody closed his eyes and smiled. Soon. Unlimited physical and supernatural power. Soon. Cody swallowed, and braced himself for the incoming impact of the transforming, empowering rush of supernatural force. Soon. Nothing happened, but he could hear the familiar crackling sound of unnameable and unholy power in the air close to his bench. He opened his eyes. NO! Not tiny Tim! Not the shrimp. Not the scrawny hardgainer. Not the little runt. The little runt wasn't a little runt, anymore. A broad-shouldered behemoth bellowed in the pec-dec machine with his legs broad apart. Things didn't go as Cody had expected, and he fell into dark despair: An icy cold awareness arose that he wasn't one of The Master's chosen. Chapter Three is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13105-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake-chapter-three/
  11. The Giant Football Coach - Chapter 4

    Previously https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12573-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-1-2/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12587-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-3/ CHAPTER 4: Double As the rest of the team headed inside the training complex, I made my way over the other side of the field to pick up coach's shirt. As I picked it up, I noticed that it didn't seem any bigger, unlike Coach. I grabbed the sweaty garment, Coach's manly sweat stench washing over me, and headed back over to Coach standing near the goal post. “Here's your shirt, Coach Wood. But I don't think it will fit you any more...” Coach crouched way down and took the shirt from my hands. He picked it up and held it out in front of him. I was right. While I would've been swimming in his shirt, to him it looked like a toddler's t-shirt. “WELL DAMN, THIS LITTLE THING WOULDN'T EVEN FIT ONE OF MY LEGS!” Coach boasted. “THE REST OF MY CLOTHES GREW, THOUGH. GUESS I'LL JUST HAVE TO GO SHIRTLESS UNTIL I CAN GET A NEW SHIRT MADE!” I shouted up at him, “I don't think anybody would have a problem with that, big guy. And if they do, what are they gonna do?!” “HAHA. DAMN RIGHT. THERE'S NO MAN ON EARTH WHO CAN MATCH UP TO THIS!” Coach crunched down into a most muscular pose right over the top of me, filling my vision with nothing buy hairy, ripped musculature. I was amazed and showered him with praise. “Damn Coach, imagine if you competed in a bodybuilding show now at your new size! That would ROCK!” Coach relaxed his pose, chuckled, and reached down and patted the top of my head. My skull fitting easily in just the palm of his hand. “THAT'S WHY I LIKE YOU, JACKSON. ALWAYS WORKING YOUR ASS OFF AND ALWAYS MAKING ME FEEL GOOD. ALRIGHT LITTLE GUY, HEAD INSIDE AND GET TO LIFTING WITH YOUR BUDDIES, I'LL BE IN A FEW.” I made my way into the locker room, cooled off and changed into my lifting clothes. After refueling in the team's cafeteria, 45 minutes later it was time for the defensive backs' lifting session. We headed into the weight room and were greeted again by the sight of our towering, muscular colossus of a coach, our eyes about level with his knees. I took notice that it was good thing the weight room was a cavernous, warehouse type room. It was thankfully large enough that our captain could still stand inside. Even then, Coach's head looked to be less than 10 ft from the ceiling. I briefly wondered how he even got inside until I remembered the garage door at the other end of the building. Today we would be doing Olympic lifts. Hang cleans, clean and jerks and snatches to really work on our explosive power, which is ideal for football. As we took turns doing our lifts, Coach would walk along the line behind us. It was crazy to look in the mirror in front of us and only be able to see his massive crotch hovering about our heads. The mirror was far too short to expose anything above his waist. And nothing was more motivating the hearing his voice booming down encouragement. “NICE JOB JACKSON. REMEMBER TO USE YOUR LEGS. REALLY USE YOUR LOWER BODY TO DRIVE THAT WEIGHT ABOVE YOUR HEAT. TURNAROUND AND I'LL DEMONSTRATE.” I turned around to looked up and watched as Coach brought his arms up to his shoulders like he was pretending to hold a barbell on top of his chest. “MAKE SURE YOU KEEP YOUR BACK STRAIGHT AND STICK OUR ASS OUT AS YOU CROUCH DOWN...” Coach began to squat down, his huge muscle ass filling the khaki shorts to the brink, his quads and hamstrings exploding in relief, his huge chest puffed out from his exaggerated arched back. “WHEN YOU GET DOWN SO YOUR LEGS ARE PARALLEL TO THE FLOOR, EXPLODE UP WITH YOUR LEGS AND THEN PUSH YOUR ARMS UP TO GET THAT WEIGHT ABOVE YOUR HEAD.” Coach quickly stood up straight, his head rocketing upward far beyond comprehension. As he extending his magnificent arms his fists accidentally PUNCHED the ceiling! One of his hands collided with a light fixture sending small shards of glass raining down. I instinctively ran under the nearest thing I could, Coach Wood himself. “WHOOPS!” Coach exclaimed surprised. After the glass bounced harmlessly off his chest and fell to ground I heard a booming chuckle. “DAMN, I FORGET HOW SMALL THESE BUILDINGS ARE. HOW SMALL AND FRAGILE THEY ARE TO A BIG, STONG MAN LIKE MYSELF, HAHA! WHERE'D YOU GO JACKSON??” “Down here, Coach!” Coach leaned over and saw me huddled underneath him. He grinned when he saw me. “HEY LITTLE GUY. SORRY ABOUT THAT. BUT IT LOOKS LIKE YOU QUICKLY FOUND THE SAFEST PLACE. UNDERNEATH MY MASSIVE PECS!” Coach playfully bounced his colossal pecs as I stared straight upward. “YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN ONE OF MY SMARTER PLAYERS, LITTLE GUY. THIS IS JUST ANOTHER EXAMPLE!” “Thanks, Coach! You'll just have to be careful in this world that was made of us little guys!” “I KNOW, I KNOW. BUT DAMN I TELL YA, IT EXCITES ME TO KNOW THAT I'M OUTGROWING YOU GUYS AND THESE LITTLE BUILDINGS. I'M LOVING THE POWER I'M FEELING.” I looked at him nervously and he quickly saw the look of trepidation on my face. “BUT DON'T WORRY, JACKSON. I WOULD NEVER DO ANYTHING TO MY PLAYERS. YOU ARE ALL LIKE MY SONS. I JUST WANT TO MOTIVATE YOU TO BE THE BEST YOU CAN BE!” I smiled warmly up at him and he gave returned a handsome smile, putting me a ease. “GREAT WORKOUT MEN, SHOWER UP! WE WILL BE HAVING A TEAM MEETING IN THE FIELDHOUSE TONIGHT AT 7:00PM. I'LL SEE YOU ALL THERE.” And with that, Coach stomped over the garage door, opened it and ducked down through it and into the hot summer air. ---------- A few hours later my roommate and I left our dorm and headed to the fieldhouse. The fieldhouse was a huge cavernous building, about the size of 1.5 football fields. It allowed us to practice inside during inclement weather and during the cold winter as well. We made our way inside and saw shirtless Coach towering over the growing mass of players at the other end. Jamal, of course, pointed out the obvious. “Coach, are you just gonna hang out shirtless all the time showing off your huge muscles or what? Put a shirt on man!” Coach chuckled down at Jamal. “WELL, JAMAL, UNFORTUNATELY I DON'T HAVE A SHIRT THAT FITS. I SPOKE TO DR. MARTIN, THE PHYSICS PROFESSOR. HE SAYS THAT SINCE MY BODY IS THE MAIN SOURCE OF THE GROWTH, ONLY THE CLOTHES THAT I AM WEARING WHEN I GROW WILL GROW WITH ME. SINCE I HAD MY SHIRT OFF WHEN DOING PUSHUPS IT DIDN'T GROW WITH ME.” We all nodded as he explained. Like our leader and Dr. Martin, we were still learning all the ins-and-outs of what was really going on with our growing leader. Coach smirked down at Jamal and stepped right up to him, Jamal slightly backed up in intimidation. He knew Coach wouldn't do anything, but when a 25 ft tall bodybuilder moves toward you you can't help but shirk a bit in fear. “BESIDES, JAMAL, WHY WOULD I WANT TO COVER UP THIS MUSCLEBEEF! BOOM!” Coach quicly turned sideways and executed a graceful side chest pose. This hamstrings and arms tightened and his chest shelf bulged up like a filling balloon. Jamal shouted back up in response, “Damn, Coach, looking JACKED! I guess you're right. If I looked like that I would NEVER wear a shirt either!” The crowd of players laughed in response. We all completely agreed. “WELL LITTLE GUY, AS YOUR COACH ITS MY GOAL TO GET YOU UP TO MY LEVEL...WELL MAYBE NOT MY NEW LEVEL, BUT CLOSER ANYWAY, HEHE! SO, ANYWAYS BOYS, THE REASON I CALLED YOU HERE IS THIS IS WHERE WE WILL CONDUCT OUR TEAM MEETINGS FROM NOW ON. THIS SPACE WILL ALSO SERVE AS MY OFFICE AND LIVING SPACE. AS YOU CAN SURMISE, I'VE BECOME SO DAMN HUGE THAT I'VE OUTGROWN OUR TINY LITTLE AUDITORIUM AND I'VE DONE THE SAME TO MY HOUSE. THE DEAN IS WORKING TO BRING ME IN SOME BASIC AMMENITIES. AND I WILL BE ABLE TO HIDE A BIT IN HERE TOO. AS YOU CAN IMAGINE, THE PRESS IS GOING WILD AT THE THOUGHT OF A GIANT FOOTBALL COACH. ” We looked over to the tall, open garage door and saw men bringing in several mattresses. It looked they would be linked together to serve as a his makeshift bed. We watched them complete the bed as coach went over this weeks routine in preparation for our first game. They also brought in a huge, hastily built wooden bench, obviously meant to give coach something to sit on. They brought in some more crates for our leader to do whatever with and soon left and closed the garage door. After more discussion Coach began to bring the meeting to a close. “SO, IF YOU NEED ANYTHING I WILL BE IN HERE. THE DEAN HAS INSTALLAED A BUZZER ON THE DOOR THAT WILL ALERT ME WHEN YOU WANT TO COME IN. THAT'S ALL I HAVE BOYS, NOW IF YOU WILL EXCUSE ME, I NEED TO FIGURE OUT HOW I'M GOING TO GET SOME FRESH CLOTHES. WE'LL SEE YOU TOMORROW FOR PRACTICE, MEN!” We began filling out the side door as Coach kicked off his shoes and socks. Being at the back of the group and a freshmen, I let the upper classmen exit first. Before I stepped out I turned to see coach facing away from us and sliding down his khaki shorts! He was wearing a dark grey jockstrap underneath. His giant, lightly haired ass muscles were exposed, each framed by the straps of the jock. He turned and saw me, the last player left in the room, staring,. He gave me a grin and spoke, “HEY JACKSON, BEFORE YOU LEAVE COME HERE PLEASE.” Coach turned to face me as he spoke, revealing a fabric covered, bulge that was obscenely large, even for a man of his size. He had his hand on his hips as I walked toward him, the bulge looming high and higher and bigger and bigger as I approached. Clad in just his jockstrap, standing in front of me was the most perfect, most masculine man in the history. Clearly the rumors about him being mega-hung were true. Finally, I stopped about 5 ft in front of him. Any closer and his face would've been obscured by his bulge and/or pecs. “Yeah, Coach?” “JACKSON, IF YOU WOULDN'T MIND, WOULD YOU TAKE MY CLOTHES TO ASSISTANT COACH HARVEY? HE IS GOING TO GIVE THEM TO THE MAINTENANCE DEPARTMENT FOR WASHING. THESE ARE THE ONLY CLOTHES I'VE BEEN WEARING FOR THE PAST COUPLE OF DAYS AND THEY ARE STARTING TO STINK. PLUS I CAN'T FIT IN THE ATHLETIC OFFICES ANYMORE.” “Uh...um...sure, Coach! But, what are you going to wear?” “THE SERVICE GUYS BROUGHT ME A COUPLE OF SHEETS TO WRAP AROUND MY WAIST. HEHE, IT'S JUST LIKE THOSE TOGA PARTIES WE USED TO HAVE IN COLLEGE!” I imagined what a buff, young, 21 year old Coach looked like at a college toga party. Even if he weren't as muscularly developed at that time, he no doubt would've put any other frat bros to shame with his body. Coach then shocked me by leaning forward, grabbing each side of his jockstrap and slid it down his legs. He kicked up his left leg, then his right to step out of it. Awestruck, I saw his soft, cut dick flop down nearly 2/3 of the way to his knees! And it wasn't just long, it was THICK. The reason his bulge was so pronounced is that he obviously had to curl up his soft cock within the tight fabric of the jockstrap pouch! Plus, his ball were also enormous! Now, at his size they looked bigger than basketballs! Coach then slowly stood up, smirked and tossed the jockstrap to me. The huge, towel sized garment flung toward me and I instinctively reach out and caught it. It was still damp from his sweat and I was dampened by his masculine crotch essence. I was still staring, awestruck at my giant, naked, bodybuilder football coach. He notice my gaze and broke the silence, chuckling, “YEAH, JACKSON. I KNOW. EVEN I AM SURPRISED AT HOW BIG MY JUNK IS. IT ACTUALLY KEPT GROWING UNTIL I WAS 25 YEARS OLD, BELIEVE IT OR NOT.” Mercifully, Coach then turned and grabbed a bedsheet off the ground and wrapped it around his waist like a towel, shielding me from the incredibly emasculating site of his huge cock and bull balls. “THERE WE GO, NOW I'M AT LEAST SOMEWHAT DECENT. DON'T WANT TO CAUSE A STIR IF SOMEONE WALKS IN, RIGHT?” Coach winked down at me. “Yea...yeah Coach!” I stammered as he chuckled. “Would you hand me your shorts and socks and I'll take them to Assistant Coach Harvey.” Coach picked up the rest of his soiled garments, stepped up to me and piled them in arms. “THANKS, JACKSON. LET'S HOPE I DON'T GROW AGAIN WHILE I'M LIKE THIS OTHERWISE I'LL REALLY HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR! He thanked me and I exited the fieldhouse and completed my task. I couldn't help but replay the incredible show of pure manhood that I had just seen. As a football player I was used to seeing lots of junk in the locker rooms and such, but I had never seen anything as impressive as Coach's equipment. The following morning I went to class and I couldn't help but notice all the news vans parked along the athletic complex. Obviously the word had leaked out. I wasn't surprised, it had to be darn hard to hide a 25 ft tall muscle man. A couple reporters noticed me with my official athletes' bag and came over to try to interview me. I decline and sped up my walk to escape them. I heard similar stories from my teammates throughout the morning. After morning classes we notice the campus police had been pressuring the news vans to leave to allow us our privacy and we were very much thankful. After I ate my lunch I made my way back to the stadium for practice. The locker room was abuzz as we all shared our stories of being harassed by some of the reporters. Several of us noted that they better be careful, Coach certainly would NOT be happy with them if he knew they weren't leaving us alone. We dressed and made our way to the field and few minutes later the assistant coaches joined us, followed by out titanic head coach. His clothes must've been washed because he came out in his signature sneakers, socks, short khaki shorts, whistle and ballcap, looking as buff and as powerful as ever. Even after seeing him yesterday the first look was still awe inspiring. “GOOD TO SEE YOU ALL BOYS! NOW, I'VE BEEN HEARING SOME OF THE MEDIA HAVE BEEN GETTING IN YOUR FACES. IF ANYBODY MESSES WITH YOU LET ME KNOW!” Coach's face a had slight sneer on it as he spoke and the effect was terrifying. I would not want to face the wrath of a giant muscle man. “ALRIGHT BOYS LINE UP FOR STRETCHES.” After his introduction practice resumed as normal. Well, as normal as it could be with a huge coach looking after everyone. At his new vantage point he was able to see all the units working no matter where he was standing on the field. And he let us know too. Even when we was standing over next to the defensive lineman, he noticed one of the running backs goofing off at the other end of the field. “PORTER! YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS BACK TO WORK!” He boomed across the field. Jeremy Porter blanched in fear and instantly got back to his drills, giving 110% effort for the rest of the day. Once everyone realized there was no hiding from a 25 ft football Coach, the intensity of practice as a whole kicked up another notch. And we were already known for practicing hard thanks to Coach's methods. After the unit practices we gathered together to practice our team plays. At one point he became displeased with our center's stance. “YOU NEED TO WORK ON YOUR THREE POINT STANCE, YOUR FEET ARE FAR TO NARROW! I NEED YOU TO GET DOWN LIKE THIS!” Coach stomped over, bent his knees and leaned straight over the center himself. He let his hubcap sized hand fall on the ground. “LIKE THIS! SEE HOW MY HIPS ARE WIDE AND READY TO EXPLODE FORWARD!” I could see the lineman of the defensive side of the ball stare up at his rippling body in fear as they imagined what it would be like to have to go against someone like Coach. “THEN WHEN YOU HIKE THE BALL YOU EXPLODE FORWARD, BRING YOUR HANDS TOGETHER AND PUSH THE DEFENSIVE GUY AWAY...LIKE THIS!” Coach the lunged forward and GRABBED the nearest defensive practice player, Billy Morton! With the small (to him) man in his huge hands, he LIFTED him up and pushed him out at arms length, pretending that he was pushing a man that matched his own size. Billy yelped, terrified at so easily being manhandled and brought 15 ft up in the air as if he weight no more than a feather. Coach set Billy back down. “THANK YOU FOR HELPING ME DEMONSTRATE BILLY, TAKE A WATER BREAK.” Billy was shaking as he went to grab a drink, I wondered if he had maybe pissed himself from the events. Jamal, never the one to keep quiet, voiced his awe, “Damn, Coach you picked him up like he was an action figure!” Coach turned and grinned down at Jamal. “JAMAL, SON, LOOK AT ME...” Coach flexed his enormous biceps up by his shoulder, “...AND LOOK AT YOU LITTLE MEN. YOU PRACTICALLY ARE ACTION FIGURES TO ME. I PROBABLY GOT MORE MUSCLE IN ONE OF THESE BICEPS THAN YOUR ENTIRE BODIES! PICKING UP ANY ONE OF YOU IS NOTHING!” Coach was starting to sound arrogant, but I guess when you look like him, you can back up that arrogance. For the next 45 minutes we ran our team plays to the coach's satisfaction. Then it was time for our conditioning. More situps and pushups. This time, Coach elected to stand at the front and direct us unlike yesterday. A few minutes later we were left panting and heaving for the effort, our abs, arms and chests burning. Once we caught our breath Jamal once again spoke up. “Hey, Coach, what's the deal? You always do situp and pushups with us! What's the matter, are they getting too hard for you now that you've put on some weight?” “IS THAT A CHALLENGE JAMAL?” “Heck, yeah Coach! Let's see what you've got, big guy!” Coach chuckled and slowly got down on all fours. If there was one way to manipulate Coach, it was to challenge him. “TELL YOU WHAT JAMAL, LET'S SEE IF I CAN DO 500 LIKE I DID YESTERDAY. ONLY, I AM GOING TO NEED SOME MORE RESISTANCE. FOR A BIG MAN LIKE ME PUSHUPS AREN'T MUCH OF A CHALLENGE ANYMORE,” Coach looked around at us and grinned. “ALRIGHT, ALL YOU FRESHMEN, CLIMB UP ON MY BACK, NOW!” The 16 of us freshmen all looked at each other, frozen in place. “I'M SERIOUS BOYS, HOP UP, YOU'LL BE SAFE, TRUST ME!” With that, Coach let himself fall flat on the ground. Us freshmen made our way over and clamored up on top of his beefy back. His warm, thick skin felt like taught leather underneath our hands and feet. Because he was nearly perfect in every way, there was no hair on his back, just smooth, tanned, hard, lumpy muscle. After the last of us had climbed on, Coach instructed, “OK SPREAD OUT EVENLY UP THERE, UP AS CLOSE TO MY SHOULDERS AS YOU CAN. I'VE GOT A MASSIVE BACK SO THERE SHOULD BE PLENTY OF ROOM FOR YOU ALL. OK, NOW STAY OUT OF THE CENTER OF MY BACK, WHERE MY BACK MUSCLES WILL PINCH TOGETHER. I'D HATE TO ACCIDENTALLY SQUEEZE ONE OF MY PLAYERS.” Coach felt us maneuver around. I took the highest position up by his shoulders. Just in front of me was the drop off from his front delts that led to the ground. We all had to squeeze in just a bit but there was still just enough room as we covered the expanse of his upper back. “OK BOYS GET COMFY. HANG ON TO EACH OTHER, IT MAY BECOME AN INTENSE RIDE!” And with that Coach began. Up and down. Up and down. It felt like being an enormous seesaw. I hoped that none of my fellow freshmen suffered from seasickness. To steady ourselves we all linked arms. Coach's form, like every part of him, was flawless. His huge back bunched and bulged underneath our butts as he continued the movement. The upperclassmen were hooting and hollering the whole time, encouraging their hero to pour it on. “Yeah, Coach! See if you can make those tinies fly off your back, like a bucking bronco!” “Damn, look his form! Looks at those triceps and pecs swell, bro!” “Is it hard with all those men on your back?” Coach, with his perfect form had his head up the entire time, watching his players praise him. “NOT AT ALL LITTLE BUDDY. I CAN BARELY FEEL THEM BACK THERE. IN FACT I FEEL STRONGER AND MORE POWERFUL THAN EVER!” Coach smiled cockily and exclaimed as he passed 100 reps. On top of his back we all began to notice his skin warming up. Soon our butts began to dampen as well as sweat began to form on his back. At 200 reps we also began to notice something else. For some reason, all of us freshmen began to slowly drift away from each other. I wondered if we were just sliding around on his sweat but then I saw it. His back was stretching WIDER! And not just wider, longer. I heard more gasps from the players still on the field as they realized what as happening. Coach was growing. Again! He moaned deeply as the feeling set in. “OHHHH YEAH BOYS. I'M FEELING IT AGAIN! GETTING TALLER...AND BIGGER...AND STRONGER! YEAHHHH!” Once again the toes of Coach's feet were sliding along the grass. The groundskeepers were certainly not going to be his biggest fans as they would again have to repair the turf once he was done. Some of the freshmen began to panic and started to slide off his back. Since his back was now covered in sweat, many simply slid off his torso as if they were riding a slip-and-slide. I remained perched up near his shoulders as he continued. I looked to see his handsome face just a few feet away from he, his head growing and expanding keeping up with the rest of him. At one point he glanced to the side and looked right at me and he gave me a wry grin. “300 reps!” the quarterback shouted. “Fuck Coach, you are growing too big!” A couple of more players shouted in unison. “HAHAHA. NO SUCH THING AS TOO BIG, LITTLE MEN!” I turned around and noticed that I was the last player left perched up on him. I surmised that's why gave me a smile. Coach was now getting so big that I was able to swing my legs around and rest my feet on the top of his pec shelf! I turned to Coach's saucer sled sized ear and spoke, “Keep going Coach! Blow them and everyone out of the water. It's your destiny to be our GIANT!” “OH YEAH, JACKSON, THAT'S WHY I LIKE YOU SO MUCH, LITTLE BUDDY. STEADY YOURSELF, WE'RE KICKING THIS UP A NOTCH!” Coach then nearly doubled his pace. I steadied myself by reaching out a hand and putting it on his thick, taught neck. Up and down he went, his whistle bouncing off the ground at the bottom of every rep. “400, big guy!” Coach continued to swell, thicker, longer, taller, mightier. When coach was at full extension the drop off his shoulder was now nearly 20 ft and I was feeling some vertigo. Way down below the players were again awestruck and Coach's massive chest took up more and more of their vision as it pumped and expanded wider and wider. “STILL WASN'T DONE GROWING BOYS! DON'T KNOW IF I EVER WANT IT STOP NOW! HAHAHA! I LOVE THIS! At 500 reps Coach let himself fall to the ground. BOOOOOOM! The field rumbled as his massive tonnage made contact. The players instantly backed up from the small earthquake he generated. I slid off his sweaty deltoid, coating my back in his musky, salty wetness. Once I had backed away and joined the crowd of players, Coach tilted his head forward and smirked. He slowly put one hand on the ground and began to push himself up onto one knee. On just one knee he looked almost as tall as he had a few minutes ago. He was now far, far, bigger. The top of his kneecap was now nearly twice as high as we were. We only came up to about mid shin on him! If I were behind his leg I would been staring at the biggest, hardest calf muscles imaginable. He slowly extended his leg up to a standing position, the quadriceps muscle flexing and threatening to cover his kneecap with its mass. Up higher and higher he rose as our necks craned further and further back. From his happy smile I could tell he was getting more and more excited as we shrank further and further before him. Finally after what seemed like and eternity he had reached his full height. It looked like he had again doubled his height. I estimated him to be about 50 ft tall now! “MY LITTLE PLAYERS. YOU ARE ALL SO SMALL.” Nobody said anything. “HEHE...OR I GUESS IT'S JUST ME THAT HAS GOTTEN TO BIG!!” Coach stomped his foot down for emphasis and the ground shook. We instinctively cowered. “HAHA! SORRY DIDN'T MEAN TO SCARE YOU! I JUST WANTED TO SEE YOUR FACES. KNOW THIS, I WOULD NEVER DO ANYTHING TO ANY ONE OF YOU!” We shook our heads in acknowledgment and relief. Looking around, Coach spotted Jamal. “NOTHING TO SAY NOW JAMAL? WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Jamal nervously stepped forward. “Coach...you...you...you're HUGE!!! You are like a GOD among us tiny men. I'm one of the biggest linemen on the team and I feel like a mouse next to you.” While grinning down at Jamal coach bounced his pecs and flexed his right arm. “WELL, JAMAL, HONESTLY, YOU ALL LOOK LIKE LITTLE MICE TO ME! YOU BARELY REACH MY CALF MUSCLES! LOOK HOW BIG MY PECS ARE COMPARED TO YOU GUYS! YOU COULD PROBABLY LIVE IN MY BICEPS ITS SO HUGE! LOOK AT THIS MASSIVE ARM!” Coach bragged as he flexed and unflexed his arm. “MY LEGS MUST LOOK LIKE SEQUOIAS TO YOU GUYS! BEING THIS BIG IS AWESOME!!!” Once Coach had finished his self appraisal at his new size he dropped his hands on his hips and proudly stood tall above us. “ALRIGHT BOYS, THAT WAS ANOTHER GOOD PRACTICE. HEAD INSIDE, ANOTHER LIFTING SESSION AWAITS!” **********************************************
  12. Good Friends

    Hello guys! This is my first story and i didnt wrote it in my native language. Hope it dont suck so much! ------------------------------------------------------------------ “You are in charge of the drinks” they said. “Well i guess i will surprise them” i thought to my self. I nocked the door three times and waited for an answer. “Hey Brian, we were waiting for you” Derek was standing in the door with his muscular 6 feet tall body and that goofy pretty smile that melt me down. I came trough the entranse and saw Lian and Jhon waiting in the couch while Derek close the door. “The game is starting” said lian “come on, sit by my side” and so i did.<br> “What did you brought?” “A beer for all of you and sprite me” Jhon made himself to the bottle and opened with his tooth and pour its content in three different glasses. His big biceps bulge while he did that and thogh he was smaller than Derek and Liam he had still a much bigger body than mine. I pretended to open my bottle and started drinking. As the game passed both , their beer and my sprite, started emptying.<br> As i move my ayes across their faces i could start to see the first changes. Lian ,that has always been a muscular guy, seem now deflated and with all his clothing baggy. His cute curly hair and sexy green eyes where still their but his face has lost masculinity. His prominent jaw has disappeared and his previous two day beard is gone too. Though his pants where loose on his legs, now without any muscle, they where tight in his butt that now is the main feature of his body. He wasnt the only one that has been changing, every one else did in similar ways. Derek had lost all his muscle and was left with a puny little body like mines and Jhone was even smaller, the only thing that wasnt smaller in them was their butts that had grown bigger and more prominent . Though every one has notice it, no one wants to mention it mabye because of shame or mabye because of the tension . On the other hand, I didn’t change like the others. My new acquire muscles mad my shirt stretch to its limits. My biceps had noticeable tear a little bit of the fabric and my pecs stand out like balloons. The jeans that i am wearing bearly resist the size of my new grown legs that push the material outwards making my dick bulge even bigger trough the pants. Finally the bottoms gave up and fly across the room. At these point no one was watching the game. My upper body is completely exposed. Black hair made a trail that passed from my pecs to my abs and downwards. “Wha…what have you done!” Said Derek out loud and then toched his throat when he noticed the high pitch voice that had replaced his old masculine voice. I stand up with my new 7feet tall body and walked confident to him. He had gotten smaller than before and his face barely reached my dick. I opened my enormous hand and grabed him by the hair and pulled him towards my bulge. He started licking my pants , i pushed his face away. “I dont know why im doing this… I AM NOT GAY! … But really need to be filled… FILL ME WITH YOUR DICK MASTER” He pulled my pants and boxers down and a one foot long dick slapped his face. He started sucking it and with a little bit of force his jaw adapted. I put both hand in his head an pulled him deep till he was not able to breath. I started fucking his skull rithmicaly. I could see his face filled with a mix of fear and pleasure. While he was desperately gaging, Josh and Lian had been watching at the same time as they were fingering their asses under their pants. They both stand up timidly and walked towards me. I could feel their hand traveling trough every curvature of my muscles. One on eache side they started licking my abs and tavelled with their tongues upward to my pecs. I felt them suck and lick my nippels that for them to reach they had to clime me and gripe their legs around mine and hold tight to my arms. I felt a wave of pleasure travel trough all my body, i felt dominant. “Turn aroun you little faggot, i will destroy your ass” i said Derek pulled his mouth away of my dick and followed my order showing me his bubble but. I pulled him closer and entered my dick completely as fast as i coul make him cry like a little bitch. I fucked him like a beast not caring about all the pain that i was causing to him. “Ow FUCKING YES” i screamed with my powerful voice as i filled Derek ass whith my juice. I felt everyone of them cum with their small one inch dicks not knowing that they were sealing the spell forever
  13. So I started writing this on another site and was convinced to post it here too. It will not be everyone's cup of tea, but hey, I think it's hot! This story will not nearly be as long as my last either, which is fine by me. We'll get to the action much quicker. ************************************************ Chapter 1: Recruited I’ll never forget the first time I met Coach in person. It was February of my senior year of high school and I had just arrived home from my after school workout. As I walked in the door there he was, sitting at my kitchen table, chatting with my parents. I had exchanged a few emails and phone calls with him in the past couple of weeks, but to meet him in person was an especially exciting event. Not just because he was a local celebrity and one of the most sought after young college football coaches in the country, but because of the opportunities he brought with him. But first, let me back up. The previous Fall, I enjoyed a surprisingly successful football season, racking up several accolades and honors. All of a sudden I was soon receiving some recruiting interest from the smaller universities in our region. This was all very surreal to me as never in my life did I think I, Mason Jackson, was good enough to extend my football playing career past high school. Not only did I question my own skill, but I played of the smaller high school in our state, which don’t tend to get the type of exposure needed to get recruited to the bigger schools. Even then, I thought I was too small to play college ball, being only 5 ft 10 but a solid 175 lbs. Granted, I played defensive back, which are always the smallest guys on any football field. The position I play is out in the backfield, which is mostly open space. Primarily, my job is to keep the faster players from the offense from catching passes. So being smaller, faster, quicker and more agile was an advantage for my position compared to the big, lumbering beasts who played at the line of scrimmage. Regardless, thanks to my own high school coaches, my name had gotten out there for the college coaches to review. It was exciting to receive the attention I was getting even though it was mostly from smaller universities. Of course, my parents were thrilled that I now had a chance to attend a school on scholarship. Being a straight A-student, I was already in line for some financial assistance, but a full-ride athletic scholarship was not something I was going to squander. But no offer was more exciting than the one I received for Biltoft University. Bilthoft University was the major college in our area of the state. It was located in a college town about 50 miles from my home. It was a smaller major, private university that was heavily invested in academics. Over the decades it had built up a reputation as being one of the top academic universities outside of the Ivy League. Of course, being our local university, I had grown up following all the Biltoft sports teams, along with the majority of my family and friends. The men's sports teams were known as the Brutes. The Bilthoft Brutes. While most of Brute teams experienced average levels of success, for most of my life the Brute football program had a sad existence. Apparently, the football team was quite good for about a 15-year era in the 60’s and 70’s but then went into a dark period for about three decades. During this time it was common for the team to only win two or three games per year and there were even a couple of winless seasons in that mix. During this period, the university powers-that-be invested very little into the success of the football program. Most of the school's resources were directed o expanding the academic profile of the school. At its heart, being an institute of learning, this certainly wasn't a bad thing and it contributed geatly to the school's academic profile. With this philosphy, Biltoft had even become one of the top universities in the world for its research in particle and quantum physics. So, while no one could really argue that a school shouldn’t spend most of its money on academics, it wasn't being realized that a lot of extra potential revenue was being missed that even a mediocre football program can generate. Revenue that could then be used for both athletic and academic improvements. So, as a result the football program languished for nearly three decades. Since Bilthoft was so heavily focused on academics, many of the football players recruited during this time were, well, nerds as well. Basically the university took in any smart high school football players they could get, regardless of skill level. For three decades the school's mascot was never more ironic. The Brutes, the hulking, muscular mascot betrayed the frail and weak (by college football standards) players on the Brute football team. During this time the university's squad picked up a derisive nickname, the “Bilthoft Boobs.” Although no one knew it at the time, the future of the school would forever change in the late 90’s when it recruited a tall, wiry, hardworking local linebacker named Mitchell Wood. Like most of the school's recruits at that time, young Mitch was virtually unknown. Mitch Wood's main intention was to attend Bilthoft for a biochemistry degree. He was of course, very intelligent, 4.0 GPA, valedictorian of his class you name it. He was a good player in high school, but did nothing that would indicate the star player he would develop into. After his college career, in various interviews Mr. Wood would talk about how most of his success could be traced back to when he really discovered the weight room his freshmen year. As he progressed through his four years at Bilthoft he lifted intensely and developed into one of he best defensive players not only in the school's history, but in the entire country. His startling physical development, combined with his impeccable intelligence, helped him become a beast on and off the football field. He set many of the Brute defensive and weightlifting records and still holds many of those records even to this day. There was even talk that, if he had been on a better football team, he could have been a contender for the Heisman trophy. By his junior year, he had NFL scouts chomping a the bits to draft him. The star Brute player had even led the team to its first bowl game appearance in 21 years. But, alas, halfway through his senior, Mitch Wood was felled by the all to common ACL injury. He still could potentially have rehabbed himself in time for that year's NFL draft and that was his original plan. However, he fell in love with the idea of coaching while sidelined with injury. He elected to forego the draft to the disappointment of many agents and finish out his college career to get his biochemistry degree, which he did that spring. The following year Mitchell Wood took a position at a local high school teaching chemistry and, of course, coaching the school's football team. His impact was immediate. His teams continuously improved and in just a few short years developed a new high school dynasty, even winning multiple state championships. Back at the University, soon after his time at Bilthoft had ended, Mr. Wood's impact was still being felt. Having had one of the the best players on the country leading the team to even moderate success had begun to weigh on the university's board. The younger members of the board began to realize how a successful athletics program can actually compliment the school's academic profile and not hinder it. The new revenue that Mr. Wood helped generate was a catalyst that began to weigh on the minds of the board. It was just a couple of years after Mr. Wood had left that program began to regress again and so the board decided to take action. They fired the football coach in search of a new direction. Of course, still being a relatively low-tier football program, the school knew they would not be able to bring in any high profile coaches. Thus, they decided to take a risk and hired Mitchell Wood, the formal Brute star and high school coaching phenom, to be the new coach at the tender age of 27. Coach Wood was absolutely thrilled to take over the position at his alma-mater and graciously accepted. Much like his high school teams, he quickly turned the Brute football program around. As a man hugely into weightlifting, he immediately revamped the team's strength and conditioning program. He was unusual in college football in that he assumed the shared role of head coach and also strength and conditioning coach. Very soon the brainy jocks on the field began to look bigger, faster, stronger and harder. After a 1-11 season the year before, Coach Wood led his first collegiate team to a 7-5 season and its first bowl game since he played. It was a stunning turnaround for modern college football. In just one year the average weight of a Brute football player increased by a full 25 lbs of solid muscle! It wasn't long before the school lost it's derisive moniker and soon the players were being known as the “Built Brutes”, a fun play on words that perfectly reflected the physiques underneath the Brute jerseys. His second season the team went 9-4, earning the school's first top 25 ranking in four decades. The third season they played for a conference championship and in his fourth season the Brute football program brought back its first conference championship trophy in FIVE decades! His stratospheric rise then led his teams to back-to-back 11-2 season and top 10 rankings. Unsurprisingly, with his meteoric rise to success many of the historic powerhouse football schools clamored to hire him away from Bilthoft. But, every year coach rebuffed their offers, saying he owed everything to the Brutes and that the now 33-year old coach was happy to build a new powerhouse football program, further endearing himself to the Bilthoft institutional family. What was even more surprising regarding the team's success was that Coach Wood kept with the schools proclivity to recruit the most intelligent players to maintain the school's high academic status. With the recent success on the field, the athletic profile of the average Brute recruit rose as well, but Coach had a knack for finding diamonds in the rough. The highly intelligent, but ultimately undeveloped players for which he considered himself to be when we first recruited out of high school. And so, this philosophy led Mitchell Wood to my kitchen table one winter day. He saw me walk into the kitchen and I immediately froze in star-struck awe. Even though I had been exchanging messages with him I had no idea he was coming to my house. He stood up and up and turned to face me and offered his hand in greeting. “It's nice to meet you, Mason.” Other than his celebrity, the man was simply overwhelming. From seeing him on TV I knew he was a big, burly man. But seeing him in person really illustrated that point. He had to be 6 ft 5 in, maybe 6 ft 6 in tall. He must've had a late growth spurt because I thought he was listed as a couple of inches shorter during his playing days. The other thing that astounded me was his muscularity. He was not just big like many ex players, he was still very buff! I knew he was a seriously lifter from researching his history once he started contacting me. I had found out that he had even competed in some amateur bodybuilding contests back when he was just out of college. With some internet digging you can even find a few photos of him flexing up on stage from about a decade ago, looking huge, jacked, tanned and shredded. But now, the man in front of me was even bigger and more powerful than the young man in those photos. He was wearing a dark blue polo shirt (the team's colors) with the Brute logo, a “B” with two cartoon biceps flexing on each side, plastered over his overdeveloped chest muscles. The tight blue polo was tucked into tan khaki slacks which were also tight due to his muscled glutes, quads and hamstrings. Not to mention that he seemed to be very well developed in the crotch as well. The man seemed to have it all. He had hugely muscular arms with a pencil thick cephalic vein running over his biceps and vascular forearms. It looked like with one accidental flex he would burst the seams of his polo. He was in fantastic shape. He had the type of build that suggested he could still compete in bodybuilding with just a few weeks of dieting and conditioning. His head was topped off with matching white baseball cap, his signature accessory, also with the Brute logo on the front. Being straight, I still couldn't deny that he was an amazingly handsome man with a rugged visage and chiseled jawline. He had a dark fu-manchu mustache which complimented the deep dark brown sideburns that stretched down from under his hat, framing his face. The fu-manchu added to his intimidating presence, but once he smiled warmly and shook my hand, I saw there was no reason to fear. “Nice to meet you, Mason. I'm Mitchell Wood, but I hope you'll call me 'Coach'”. I shook his huge hand which seemed to swallow up my own. I could feel the scratchy callouses on his palm, no doubt built up from years of gripping the knurling on weightlifting bars. His voice suited him perfectly, it was deep, rumbling and masculine. “It's nice to meet you Mr. Wood,” I began. “I'm a bit surprised you have expressed so much interest in me.” He chuckled down at me and gave me another friendly smile. “I see you are modest too. I have been watching your high school tapes and I am very impressed. You were a special player to your team, a great on-field leader. I fully believe I can help you develop that and that you would be a great asset to our program.” He was very charming too. This guy was the complete package, the perfect man. “Son, I am here to formally offer you a invitation to play for the Bilthoft Brutes.” I committed to play for the Brutes right there on the spot. *********************************************************** Chapter 2: A New Season I was seated in a large room with about 75 of my football playing peers early the following August. It was still three weeks before school officially began but the athletic teams were allowed to move onto campus early for practices. The room was abuzz with excitement as we waited. Finally, the coaches began walking in and stood at the front of the room. Coach Wood, stood front and center wearing what I would soon discover was his trademark outfit. On his feet he was wearing large white sneakers. Even from afar I could tell he had very big feet, I'm guessing at least size 15. The bottoms of his legs were covered with white athletic tube socks. The socks came up to encircle to the largest diameter of his massive, protruding calf muscles. Traveling up from his calves his muscularity and pulchritude became more and more evident. The lower half of his exposed, striated legs were covered by thin dark hair. Above his knees coach's quadriceps exploded outward in relief, the heavy muscle of his thighs so large that they threatened to cover up his kneecaps. This was clearly a man that had focused on squats and deadlifts to build up those tree trunk legs. A few inches higher coach was wearing mid-thigh length khaki shorts. I suspected the reason coach opted for short khakis was as utilitarian as it was aesthetic. The short shorts allowed his massive legs the freedom to move with causing much chafing, but it also gave his adoring fans a chance to ogle some of the beefiest legs you can imagine. Upward still, the legs of the shorts joined at the crotch where a sizable bulge was unmistakable. Coach was certainly a man whose large stature was in proportion everywhere. Above the shorts Coach was in his typical shirt. A tight, light grey, light fabric t-shirt that had “COACH” printed on the front chest in large block letters. His heaving pectorals were so large that the middle of the shirt was sucked into his muscled cleavage, thus slightly distorting the word “COACH”. Hanging just in front of those beefy muscle pillows was Coach's whistle, the noise of which we would soon become well acquainted to. Due to his tremendous bulk, the t-shirt was tight everywhere else too. Well, except at his waist. Our new coach obviously made an effort to keep his bodyfat relatively low. Further up, on the sides of his chest and under his arms his lat muscles pulled the fabric outward whenever he extended his arms or stood with his fists on his hips. Even further up, you couldn't help to be amazed at his arms. We all knew coach was a bodybuilder in his former years and his arms certainly led credence to that fact. They were enormous and sinewy, each with that large cephalic vein prominently sticking out over his unflexed arms. And you certainly couldn't ignore the huge meaty mass of his triceps hanging from the bottom of his arm, adding to his arms' intense size. I longed to see what his arms looked like when flexing. On top of his chest stood his fire-hydrant neck, framed by two huge triangular trapezoid muscles. On top of his neck sat his amazingly handsome, rugged face with his classic fu-manchu mustache and matching side burns. Completing the outfit he wore a white ball cap with a large blue “B” with two flexing arms, the logo for our Brute football program. As we settled down Coach began to speak. “Men, welcome to another year at Bilthoft! I look around this room and I see champions. Some of you may still be champions are in the making, but you all have what it takes to succeed. ARE YOU READY FOR A NEW SEASON!” The room erupted in hoots and hollers from all the players, the room was buzzing with competitive testosterone. The coach raised his hands to silence his players and then went down the line and introduced us all to the various position coaches. In general, each player would only be working with one or two of these position coaches plus the head coach during practices. “Ok boys, head to the locker and suit up for our first practice!” One of the seniors sitting in the front row piped up before anybody moved. “YO, COACH! YOU GOTTA SHOW THE NEW GUYS!” Coach grinned at the senior lineman who had addressed them. “Show them what, Jamal?” “C'mon Coach. Every year you end the first meeting showing us those huge GUNS of yours! It looks like you've been lifting even harder since spring practice ended. IT'S TRADITION, COACH!” Laughs and snickers could be heard throughout the room. Coach and his assistants were chuckling too. It was easy to tell why everybody loved Coach. Off the field he was a very easy going, playful, charming, and endeared himself to almost anybody he met. “Well, Jamal, I upped my caloric intake in the past couple of months and switched my lifting routine around a bit to see if I could put on some more mass. You guys have all been getting bigger so I decided I needed to put on some size too. Need to you keep you fella's in your place, haha.” Coach began bending and unbending his arms at his sides, smirking at Jamal as he spoke. “I've put a solid inch on these pythons, can yo believe that?” “Shit yeah Coach! You are looking monstrous. C'mon show 'em to us. You've got the ball cap with the flexing arms, all us upper-classmen consider your first meeting flex to be the real start to the football season!” Sheepishly, Coach replied, “Well, I don't know, Jamal, maybe we need a new tradition...” The room noise began to grow as the players protested playfully. Coach was toying with us all and we knew it. Catcalls, whistles and claps poured out from the crowd of jacked up young men: “Show us, Coach!” “Let's see it.” “I don't think your arms are any bigger!” “Flex 'em big guy!” Coach chuckled at looked at the ground with his hands on his hips. He loved that his huge powerful body was such a motivator for his players. "Well, boys, let's go suit up and have a great practice. I think this is going to be a special year. Work hard out there on the field, lift hard in the gym, study hard in the classroom and big things will come, and do you know why, boys?... … BECAUSE WE ARE THE BILTHOFT BRUTES!” Coach suddenly raised both arms into a herculean double-biceps pose. The enormous mass of his biceps exploded upward seriously testing the fabric of his tight, grey t-shirt sleeves. The huge hamlike muscles of his triceps simultaneously pulled the shirt downward, filling the tortured sleeves with pounds and pounds of muscle. His biceps were freaky! They looked like they belonged on a champion pro-bodybuilder, the peaks were amazing! The room exploded in a masculine frenzy of cheers as we all admired our colossally buff coach and also hyped ourselves up for our first practice. Coach finally lowered his arms, “OK boys, time for practice!” As we dressed for practice the upper classmen couldn't stop talking about coach. “Holy cow, bro! His arms were HUGE! He's always been jacked but I can't believe he put on even more muscle since we last saw him.” “Shit, bros, I hope he trains us like he trained himself, I would love to put on some more beef too!” I knew Coach was big and buff, but the last time I saw him in person he was in slacks and a polo shirt. Of course, I didn't see him flex when he recruited me so I didn't have much to judge by. I took my teammates at their word that coach was even bigger now. That first week of practice was one of the hardest weeks of my life. Coach worked our asses off. Even though he was so huge and intimidating and could've easily used fear to whip us into shape, he was such a great motivator that the thought of disappointing him was enough to make us give him 110%. Of course, that didn't stop him from yelling like a terrifying beast when he was displeased. But, there was never any threat of physical violence, he truly was like our huge, intense football father out there on the field. In the afternoons we would lift weights with our team unit. That is, for me, I lifted with all the other defensive backs. As coach was the strength coach as well, we was right there with us to teach us proper technique and push us to lift heavier and heavier weights. Since the outdoor practice in the hot summer sun usually left his grey t-shirt soaked with sweat and clinging to his lumpy muscles, he usually changed into a sleeveless shirt for the lifting session. This of course fully exposed those ENORMOUS arms. Once we were done lifting, the seniors again couldn't help egging him on about his huge pythons. Matt, the starting senior safety and captain of the defensive backs, always seemed to be the instigator of our group. “Damn, coach! How big did you get over the summer?” he asked. Coach just laughed at his players. Since the defensive backs were the smallest guys on the team, Coach towered over all of us and was also far more muscular. “Oh, Matt, about the same size, I guess, haha. 6 ft 6, just like always!” Coach teased. “Ah, C'mon coach you know what I mean. How much do you weigh now big man?” Now that our lifting session was over we gathered around to hear Coach out. “Well, Matt, let's go see.” We followed him over to the electronic scale that was in the corner of the weight room. Coach stepped up on it and we all watched the small screen as the numbers were calculated. “Well, little men, it looks like I'm up to 305 pounds!” “DAMN COACH! YOU ARE A FUCKING MONSTER!” Coached just stepped off the scale and looked down at us proudly. “That's what, another 25 lbs since last winter, right?” Matt asked. “Yep, Matt. I told you this new routine has really been helping me grow. It's the same routine I got all you on right now, so I expect the same result from all of you! I want to see all of you put on 25 lbs by the end of the season, GOT IT BOYS?” “YES SIR!” We all shouted in unison. However, Matt still wasn't satisfied. “Hey, Coach one more thing, you said you put a solid inch on those canons, how big are they now?” Coach just chuckled down as his senior captain. “Bigger than yours, Matty. Bigger than yours.” Matt, however, knew just how to play to Coach's competitive side. “Yeah I figured they gotta be like 20 inches or so. I mean, they didn't look very big last winter.” Coach smirked and stepped right up to Matt, who, at 5 ft 11, only came up to Coach's chin. “You think these monsters are only 20's?” “Yeah Coach, can't be that big, haha. Maybe 21s, but surely no more,” Matt grinned back. Coach chuckled and walked over to a bench press station that still had 225 lbs loaded on the bar. He grabbed the bar and quickly performed ten perfect barbell curls and set the bar down. He made it look like he may as well have been curling a broomstick. The peaks up his arms exploded in size as he curled a weight that many of us struggled to bench press, pumping them and filling them with nutrient rich blood. “Hey, Jackson,” Coach turned to look right at me. “Why don't you grab that tape measure hanging by the scale and we'll see how good a judge of size Matt here is.” Since I was closest to the scale, I turned and saw the tape measure that he was referring to hanging on the wall. I grabbed it walked over to Coach. “Why don't we measure Matt's guns here first.” Matt laughed. He was one of those cool, relaxed guys who had virtually no shame so he cheerfully stepped up to the plate. “Sure, Coach, but don't feel sorry when my huge guns make yours look like pipe-cleaners!” I walked up to Matt and he raised his right arm, gritted his teeth and flexed his bicep as hard as he could. I wrapped the tape around his arm, which for his size was quite impressive. I announced the number as 16.5 inches. Certainly not huge, but he had very little fat so it was a solid measurement. Coach patted him on the back. “Not to shabby Matt. Nice job. Ok, Jackson, why don't you do the honors and measure this little pipe-cleaner right here.” Coach stepped up to me and FLEXED his enormous arm right in front of the me. Gasps and whispers emanated from the other defensive backs as we watched the huge lump of muscle surge upward. I froze for a second, partially in fear and partially from awe, before stepping up to Coach with the tape. I placed one end of the tape on the very peak on his biceps and held it with my finger. It felt like pressing on warm granite. His arm was so huge that my hands looked like a toddlers as I wrapped a tape around his arms. I pulled the tape tight and read the result. “Just a hair under 24 inches.” “HOLY SHIT COACH!” Another stunned teammate shouted. “Those are like, pro-bodybuilder size arms! And your arms aren't fat, they're fucking jacked!” Coach dropped his arm and stood up proudly in front his players. “Well, Matt, it looks like you need to do a few more curls before you can match these babies! But, seriously, gentlemen, great lifting session today. Now after you shower make sure you head to cafeteria to refuel your spent muscles, otherwise you won't grow. Then rest up and we'll see you all tomorrow. Great job my little Brutes!” During that first week on campus it also became apparent just how popular Coach was outside of the athletic department. We all knew he was a smart guy and he could often be seen eating lunch with the scientists in the physics laboratory. It was quite a site to see, this huge, herculean man eating lunch with short, skinny, nerdy looking scientists. And they genuinely all got along. One time when I was in physics lab I overheard him speaking with this scientist friends and he was able to converse with them even at their own level of quantum physics technobabble, language that went right over my head. At that moment it really sank in just how intelligent Coach really was. About a week before our first game something happened on campus that would forever change the dynamic of Bilthoft University. School had just started and so campus was now full of students. While I was sleeping in my dorm on Monday morning my room suddenly rattled. At first I thought it was an earthquake but then I remembered those are quite rare here in the midwest. About 15 minutes later my phone buzzed with an automatic text message from the university: [Students. There has been a minor explosion at the physics lab. The University is still investigating but thankfully we do not believe there have been any major injuries. Please stay away from the physics lab as we continue to investigate and clean up.] Of course, as soon as I read this I ran outside, as did most of my dorm mates, and walked over the physics building. The campus police had already ran some yellow tape around the building and were keeping us all at a safe distance. We could see there seemed to be a small blowout of one of the outer brick walls and fireman were milling about. We soon realized that, as the message had stated, it seemed like true disaster had been diverted. That afternoon I received another automatic text message from the football coach's account, telling us to meet in the team meeting room before practice today. The team filled in the small auditorium, wondering what the occasion might be. The offensive coordinator, Assistant coach Harvey, an older 45 year old man, walked into the middle of the room. We were all wondering where the head coach was. “Gentlemen, I have some unfortunate news. Now, before I set you in panic, know that Coach Wood is doing well. Unfortunately, he was in the physic lab this morning when the explosion occurred. I don't have all the details, but the scientists and the doctors have been monitoring his condition as a precaution. I have been told that there is no reason to worry at this point. As such he will not be at practice today. I will be leading practice. I want you all to work harder than ever had to make Coach proud when he hopefully returns tomorrow.” All the players took that to heart and we really did try our best at practice. But, there certainly was a bit of somberness among the entire team. We couldn't help but feel at least a little bit worried about our beloved Coach's condition. Of course, for the rest of the day, the local news media was all over the story and had gotten wind that coach was involved. As the speculation ran rampant, it certainly didn't help with our anxieties. The following day my roommate, also on the football team as a wide receiver, and I went to class still wondering about the fate of our coach. Later in the morning we received another team message: [Practice will begin at it's normal time. Coach Wood is doing well and will be in attendance] Instantly we all felt better and looked forward to having Coach back on the field with us. No doubt we were all curious as to just what happened in the physics lab, as the details from the local news was still spotty. Later that afternoon the team had gathered in the locker room to change into our practice gear. I was chatting happily with my defensive back buddies, talking about how we couldn't wait to see Coach. We were speculating if we was even going to be able to participate or if he was just going to watch while he recovered from his injuries. Facing my locker, I had just pulled up my jockstrap and football pants when the locker room grew quiet. Suddenly I felt a large presence near me. This was not uncommon, as many of the guys on the team were in excess of 6 ft 5 and 300 lbs, but this felt different. I turned to look at my locker neighbor, Derrick, “Yo, Derrick, why is everyone so quite all of a sudden?” I glanced at his face a saw his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide, staring upward at something behind me. I slowly turned around and saw one of the most incredible sights of my life. There was Coach, standing a couple of feet behind me, in the middle of the locker room. He had his hands on his hips, with his elbows flared out in that quintessential superman pose. Coach was...big. I mean, even bigger than he was before. WAY BIGGER. I now understood why the room was silent. Coach allowed us all to take him in...and there was A LOT to take in. He had a cocky smirk on his face as he looked out around the locker room and saw all his players staring way up at him. Since he was standing right near me I took note of the true size of this man. I was standing straight up and noticed that my eyes were just about even with the waistband of his khaki shorts! Coach has GROWN! That meant that his legs alone were now almost as tall as I was! And Coach had of course retained his immense musculature. At his new size he probably now had more muscle in one of these meaty thighs than my entire body! My eyes followed his torso upward. He was wearing his typical tight coach shirt, tucked into the relatively small waistband on his coach shorts. From my vantage point down below I could actually see the underside of his heaving, fabric covered pectorals. His flared elbows and monstrous arms we now well above my head as well. I actually had to step back just slightly to see his face, which at close range was obscured by his muscled chest. Finally my eyes gazed upon his ruggedly handsome face and ballcap covered head. I noticed his head was right near the light fixture hanging from the high ceiling. He was a towering colossus of dense muscle. Being this close to him I had never felt so small in my life. A shocked murmer began to roll through the locker room as the players began to regain their speech functions. I heard several shocked phrases from my teammates: “Holy Shit!” “He's fucking HUGE!” “Look at the size of his arms! His chest is massive!” Finally Coach spoke, “Gentlemen, once you are dressed, please meet me in the auditorium for a quick team meeting!” With his new size his already deep rumbling voice was even lower. You could practically feel his voice vibrating in your chest. After he spoke he slowly turned and sauntered out of the locker room, having to hunch over to exit out the 8 ft tall doors, leaving his stunned team behind to finish dressing. Once he was gone Derrick and I shared a look. He spoke first, “Holy shit, Bro! Coach was already a big guy, now he's a GIANT!” The entire team quickly dressed and we made our way into the team meeting room. Coach was standing up front, dwarfing the assistant coaches. One we had all filed in coach spoke up. “Gentlemen, as you know, yesterday there was incident at the physics lab. Dr. Martin, the quantum physics researcher was showing me around the lab when we both heard a lout explosion. The next thing I know this weird green energy beam is blasting me right in the chest and rubble is all around me. Dr. Martin thankfully was able to quickly shut off the energy beam generator. Dr. Martin and the fireman rushed me to the hospital just to make sure I was ok while the fire department cleaned up the destruction. While at the hospital it became apparently that my clothes and I were, well, growing. Once my growth had stabilized the docs checked me out and allowed me to head home. Dr. Martin is going to continue to monitor me to make sure there are no adverse reactions to the that quantum laser beam that blasted me so there is no reason for further worry. Men, I am still your Coach, I'm just a bit bigger now.” One of the senior lineman couldn't resist replying. “A bit bigger, Coach? You are a GIANT!” The room erupted in laughter, and the coach just smiled handsomely. “How tall are you now?” “Haha, you lineman are always so obsessed with stats. Well, little men, as of last night your big coach was measured at 9 ft 10 in tall!” Coach proudly puffed up with massive chest as he announced his new stat. He obviously was enjoying his new stature as much as we were. The lineman couldn't contain his awe. “DAMN COACH! You gotta show us, Coach.” “Show you what?” Coach cockily grinned. The lineman replied, “C'mon Coach! You know what we want to see. Especially at your new size. Let's see 'em!” My teammates were now hooting and hollering up to our leader, showering him with encouragement. The giant man at the front of the room gave us a sheepishly look. “Alright men, let's go out there and have a great practice today. Work your little asses off, give me everything you've got. WE ARE THE BILTHOFF BRUTES!” Coach quickly brought up with arms into the most gargantuam double-biceps pose in the world. The sleeves of his strained shirt retreated upwards into the gap between the peaks of the muscle and his boulder like deltoids. At his new size his there was no doubt he had the biggest, buffest arms on the planet. We knew it was going to be a great practice. ************************************************ Hope you like!
  14. Henry - The Beast Within 3

    Henry was shocked and amazed at what was happening to his body. Sure he'd been working out a lot more lately, but this was incredible. He could still taste Pete's load on and was just realizing how much of his muscle juice he swallowed. "Am I growing right now?!" Asked Henry with worry and excitement in his voice. "Yes, yes your are", replied Pete in an excited, matter of fact tone. Henry already experienced his chest filling out and tightening his tshirt around his newly improved pecs. A few seconds later Henry felt the rest of his body surge with ecstasy. It wasn't an organism sensation, but more an endorphin rush after an exhausting workout. He filled out his shorts to the point where his quads were skin tight and the outline of his still-hard cock was extremely evident. "Holy fuck", Henry whispered to himself as he checked out his toned body. "Take your shirt off beast, let's see what we've created" Pete chimed in. Henry peeled off his shirt and was pleasantly surprised with his defined physique. He took off his pants and gave his legs a shake, memsemrized at his calves and quads. "Is this because I ate your load, how is that even possible?", Henry asked. Pete ignored Henry's question. He was enamoured with the idea that he was able to make Henry evolve into a more muscular beast than he was 10 minutes earlier. That turned Pete on like never before - the ability to share his muscle growth with a hot stud and make him grow into a freaky beast. Henry approached Pete standing on the other side of the room. Both men naked and still hard despite already blowing their load. Henry was still awe struck at this muscular god feeding him his muscle juice. "I want more", Henry stated, "I don't care how this is happening, and I want to grow bigger and I want you to make it happen". Pete grinned, "Then let's hit the free weights and push through some more reps." Henry grinned back and locked lips with Pete. Moving his tongue around the muscle studs mouth while he felt up his body. Pete did the same to Henry feeling the muscle he provided. "Fuck my muscle hole", Henry whispered into Pete's ear. Pete grabbed Henry and slammed him against the empty desk in the room. He loosened up Henry's newly thickened ass with his tongue. "Fuck me deep", Henry demanded, "I want to feel all of your muscle cock inside me. Cum inside me. Make me grow bigger." Pete already intended to do both. He slid his powerful cock slowly into Henry's tight muscle hole while Henry squirmed a little and moaned. "Yes, yes, this is amazing" Henry yelled out, "fuck me deep you muscle beast, turn me into a beast like you". Pete obliged and started pounding Henry, flexing his entire body with each thrust. Pete was so turned on, it didn't take him long to cum deep inside Henry. "Fuuuuck yes you beast, take my roided muscle juice". Henry came as soon as he felt Pete unleashed his seed inside him. Pete flipped him over off the desk and aggressively sucked on his juicy lips. He then noticed Henry's massive creamy load all over the desk, and couldn't help himself. He leaned down and licked it up. "Can't waste quality muscle seed" Pete said as he flexed for Henry. "Do you feel any different?" Pete asked Henry, hoping for more muscle growth. "Well my ass if killing me", Henry replied and they both laughed. Then Henry's eyes expressed the same shock and ecstasy he felt before but much stronger. "Woah, I fucking feel it Pete, it's happening again", Henry exclaimed. His defined physique slowly transformed into an inflated jacked junior bodybuilder. "Holy fuck this feels incredible, look at my fucking arms" Henry said as he flexed for Pete. Pete wanted in on the action and started groping Henry softly as Henry continued to transform and grow. Henry stood in front of Pete a full 30lbs heavier, made of pure muscle. The hair alone that sprouted all over Henry's body was enough to make Pete want to cum again. It was in that moment, Pete realized he was growing. "What the hell!" Pete said as he felt his body growing thicker. "Henry, its gotta be because I licked up your seed. Fuck this is amazing. Look at my pecs, look at how thick I am!!", Pete let out a slow intense groan and he flexed to show off his newly earned gains. Cum started dripping from his muscled cock and Henry ran his ring get along Pete's shaft and licked the roided seed so he could grow with his muscle beast. The room was rank with sweaty muscle man musk after their growing and worship session. Both men put on their skin tight underwear since nothing else fit, and made their way across the gym to the locker room. "Look at my abs and chest and traps and arms and fucking tree trunk thighs'" Henry exclaimed as he flexed for himself in the bathroom full length mirror while Pete stood behind him admiring the muscle beast's growth. "You're definitely getting there stud", Pete admitted as he flexed in the mirror. Henry could smell Pete's sweaty pits as he flexed and the taste of Pete's body lingered in his mouth. "Hey Pete, you have to tell me how the hell this is happening, and when we're doing this again!", Henry inquired, hoping his gym crush turned growth accomplice would still want to fuck and workout. "We're working out together every fucking day now", Pete said and laughed, "we just made each other grow and that was the best sex of my life". "If you want to know why this is happening, I'll have to introduce you to Bill", said Pete. "Bill, who is that?" Asked Henry as he continued to flex for himself and smell his own sweaty musk.
  15. I wrote this over email for someone I met online. I suppose it means something more between the two of us, but I'm sharing it here. I've never shared anything before, nor have I commented. I've written a series of these for him, so I suppose I'll post one at a time. Thanks for the indulgence. This is a jump-right-in set of fantasies. He and I met online, and he lives near a large city in Colombia. I live in California. ---- Email 1. Because you had never been to a hotel, I made a reservation at one of the fancy hotels in the downtown. You’ve never seen anything like this, so I made sure it would be memorable. I arranged for a limousine to pick us up – you’ve never had this type of luxury. It’s unfortunate that so many have his daily and don’t deserve it, while you deserve it and have never experienced it. I reserved a suite, with its own private balcony, large bathroom and massive king bed. The bathroom is bigger than your room you normally live in. The views from the balcony overlook the massive pool area and gardens of the hotel. You can’t believe this exists. Since it is Colombia, it’s around 38 C outside with 90% humidity…and you laugh at my inexperience with humidity. I’m sweating a lot, and you suggest that sometimes taking a shower helps. Yes. A shower. That’s what I need…and I get an idea. You told me that you’ve never had a warm shower, let alone a hot shower, so you don’t know how it feels and that it works better than cold water when it’s hot outside. So, I start to strip for the shower – I’m still embarrassed to be naked in front of a living, breathing, moving god of muscle and beauty – and I ask you to join me. I don’t give you a chance to strip. I pull you into the shower, which is exposed to the large balcony and overlooks the massive estate of the hotel. I turn on the water, and you instantly gasp. Warm water starts pouring over you, making your already-tight shirt cling even more handsomely to your pecs and abs. Your pants were gripping to your marvelous butt before, but adding water…it was hard to figure out what’s more tempting: the bulge in the front or the bulge in the back. I start to soap up my body, and quickly realize it’s not fair to not have you wash too. I spin you around, your ass to my quickly hardening dick, and start to grope your lengthening and thickening manhood. I bend over, water dripping from me to you, and ask if I may take off your pants. You moan, flex your cock and start to rip your shorts. Your semi 19 cm python swung free, and let me tear away at the rest of your pants. I move my hands…reluctantly…from your massive dick – now much longer than 19 cm, maybe 23 or 24 cm and at least 15 cm around – to your pecs. I start groping them, so tight and full in your shirt. You start to bounce them, tearing the shirt. I help you by ripping the shirt off your body. Your mass swells and fills up the shower. Seeing so much muscle swell, water dripping off all of the ridges and veins snaking your back, my cock swells up even more. It hurts seeing so much beauty within my grip. I add soap to your body and start to scrub. I want to be gentle, since you turn red so easily, but I want to feel the abrasion of your muscles. There’s nothing as hard as them. You start instinctively contracting muscles wherever I add soap. Your biceps swell larger than 40 cm. Your forearms much bigger than 26 cm. Your chest expands larger than 107 cm. Your shoulders become rounder. Your thighs blow past 70 cm. Your cock must be at least 28 cm. It’s angry and red and covered in veins. Your moaning becomes very loud. I don’t know if it’s because of the warm water, your swelling muscles, your massive cock almost at your pecs, or that you’re with me. You bend over, having more muscle spread wide. I lather up your back. It is nothing but ridges and mountains and valleys of muscle, moving and swelling. You bend over even more, showing how wide your back is and how small your waist is. I lower my hands to put more soap on your lats, waist, and ass. I massage your ass and waist, reaching around to grab your colossal cock. I can’t get my hand around it. You bend over even more. I’m puzzled why you keep doing this. But you soon let me know. You start to back up, pushing your perfect ass up against my dick. I understand now. I start to slowly grind my cock against your ass. It’s not anywhere near your size, but since I’m taller, I can grind down against you. I push it between your ass cheeks, much similar to a hotdog between buns, and you instinctively squeeze. I moan. I’ve never felt something that strong. You moan more, reach around and push my dick into you. You’re so hot. My dick feels like it’s on fire. I push with all my strength to enter you. Your ass is so strong it fights back against my entire body. You start to relax with the flow of water. I bend over, grab your chest, and start to massage your words, abs, arms. I kiss your neck and cheek. I keep pushing and pulling. In and out. In and out. You face me, your dark eyes look into mine, and I kiss you. Your tongue is so hot and strong. You reach up to grab my head, your biceps swell. In and out. In and out. In and out. I can’t handle how hot you are, and I warn you I am going to shoot. You beg me to stay in, and grab my ass. I am pushed further into you, and I shoot. Your prostate is pulsing and your massive 30 cm cock erupts. I can’t keep track of what’s hitting me: cum or water. I keep pushing tho. In and out. The massaging keeps your cum flowing. I feel your legs start to shake, and I grab you before you collapse. We need another shower :). --- Email 2. We had sex two more times in the shower. Well, sort of. You made love to me, and then we mutually sucked each other off. I choked on your swollen 30 cm cock twice, but you insisted that I swallow as much as I could. After all of that sex, we needed to go outside. Both of us are so pale, but I tan better than you, so we both put on sunscreen. You insisted that you put some sunscreen on my ass, even though I didn’t think we would be naked. There were people outside! I am too self conscious to do anything that risky. You also don’t want anyone to see you naked…and I want you naked only for me. I called the pool to see if there were any cabanas available, and there was one! It was rather large, next to the pool, and had coverings on all four sides so that we could have privacy. I booked it immediately. We had three hours to use it…so we had to get down to the pool immediately. For as hot as the day was, there were not a lot of people at the pool. We got to our cabana, and then immediately went to the pool. I’m not too fond of swimming, because I don’t like my body, but your god-like body relishes in the swimming. You strip your pants, and I notice you’re wearing a speedo. Your ass bulges commandingly from the rear, and then there’s your cock. The bulge is obscene. Your balls had swollen as much as your manhood, and it was pushing the pouch down. Anyone can see the thick root of your cock easily. You don’t seem to notice or care – your muscles shone in the sunshine, from the sweat and from the sunscreen. We jump into the pool. No one else is in the pool. Too many people were drinking, dancing, or taking selfies. I’m more comfortable than you in the pool, so you stay in the shallow end and I swim all over the pool. I prefer to swim laps, but I didn’t have my prescription goggles so it made it restrictive. I wasn’t happy with swimming that way, but I made it work. You were a blur, but even in that blur I could see your beautiful face and muscular body. I swim back to you. You smile, grab me under my arm pits, and easily pick me up out of the water. I kick the water, playing and partly scared (I didn’t expect that!), and then you throw me back to the deep end. I shoot out of the water, gasp, and call out “you fucker.” You said “only if you’re good” and giggled. Game on. I dove under water and swam at your legs. I stood up, wrapping your legs over my shoulders, and your crotch in my face, and I stand up. You immediately start to worry, because you’re out of the water! I walk around, holding you up this way, and ask you “is this being good?” and start to kiss your cock bulge. You start to moan and then tell me to stop – people will look. I comment that they won’t, since they’re all playing on their phones or drunk. You look around, and notice it’s true. I keep sucking. Your cock stretches more and more, and eventually your speedo breaks. I saw this happening, so I wasn’t surprised when your cock slapped me upside the head. Not going to lie, it really stung. I’m not sure, but it’s feeling thicker than the 15 cm girth and 30 cm length. How you keep becoming more massive, I do not know. I suck on your balls, with your cock hanging on my face and onto my head, and your moaning is getting loud. I feel your balls pull up and start exploding, a fourth time in under an hour, adding more godmade sunscreen onto both of us. Your scream made someone call out, from somewhere and sounding very drunk, “what’s going on?” I got scared and dropped you into the pool. You gasped at that when you came back up, and it was your turn to call me a fucker. I pointed at our cabana, tugged on your 32 cm cock, and said “only if you’re a good boy.” You smiled. --- Email 3. I run and grab your towel to attempt to cover you up as we head back to the cabana. Not going to lie: it was very difficult trying to cover you up. Whatever has been making your muscles grow has made you waist smaller and your penis, now only semi-hard, was pushing 25 cm straight to the side. Watching you walk was amusing to say the least – it looked like you injured your leg…until you notice that massive third leg pushing to the left. We get back into the cabana and you toss away the ridiculous towel. I scold you for being messy, and hang the towel on your cock. You laugh, making it bob up and down. I pull you into the cabana and close the coverings. From the inside it seems rather bright, but having been at the pool noticed you can’t see much of what goes on inside. Probably a lot more alcohol and selfies, based upon the tourists. There are blankets and towels everywhere in the four-square meter space. I had other ideas. I had been pondering why you are getting so much bigger, so much more manlier. Exercise wasn’t entirely doing it – the sex alone should have made you three times the size you are – and it’s not food. Ever since visiting you I notice you don’t eat as much as I think you should. But, since I was trained to think as a scientist, I had a possible cause. I don’t know how it works, but first thing is I must test it. Looking at you, I see how the sun makes a halo around your body. Your pecs, at least 115 cm, look black compared with the light shining around your shoulders and biceps. Your face is hidden, although I’m sure your gorgeous eyes are smiling as big as your mouth is. I had you your glasses, and I grab mine, and we see each other. You are magnificent. God himself couldn’t have made someone so beautiful, so perfect looking, so wonderful, so sweet, so handsome, so charming. I ask you to crawl over to me, and I lie down. I notice that, as you crawl over me, your penis is hard again. I can’t see past it’s profile: it’s so long, so thick, so massive, I can’t see your face or insanely broad chest. I keep my eyes closed and take my glasses off. Then your testicles come into view, and they are bigger than they were. I swear they’re at least 5-7 cm in diameter. How did they get bigger? Just, damn. I can hear more cum being made inside of them – and they must be churning so much testosterone that it keeps that immense log of manhood erect. You sit on my chest. I feel a bit more mass – you are heavier than you were in the pool. I start rubbing your chest and abs. Your six pack is now feeling like they might be eight. Your body is just so hard. Pushing my hands are feeling friction against your skin and muscles – there’s no fat to be found. I only feel striation and veins. The veins are so thick and hot. Your balls push onto my neck, and they’re so heavy I need to try to swallow and breathe. Your cock blocks both of my eyes from seeing you. I keep feeling your muscles, and I slowly start licking your cock. I feel it swelling up thicker with my tongue. My arms swing down and start to feel your thighs. I know the names of every muscle in the thigh. I can feel every muscle, swelling, rippling, generating tens of degrees Celsius. It’s so hot being placed between them. I’m sweating, and it’s slicking them up. I try to reach around and grab you ass. It’s so thick. It’s so hard. It’s so tight. Even with your ass spread open, I can feel your muscle pushing your hole closed. I feel it. So smooth. You giggle at the sensation – is your voice deeper? I might be hearing things. I go back to your thighs and calves. I had not noticed your calves before, but they’re wide and thick. I notice the veins crossing over the back of the swollen muscle. It must also be at least 30 cm around of hard man muscle. You give a loud gasp followed by a deep, sensual moan. As I rub your calves I feel something push against my chin and I feel a cool sting to my forehead. What’s that? Your balls feel like they pulled up and hit my chin…but they’re still crushing my throat. They’ve swollen bigger. That cool sting happened again, but I feel it moving on my forehead. I open my eyes to see your cock – no, a pillar of manliest muscle and fuckhood – standing straight up. It’s almost at your chest, and precum is dripping off it like I just came. I was right. Praising and worshiping your body makes you bigger. I can’t handle this. This defies anything that should make sense. I grab both hands and try to grab your mancock – both hands do not go all the way around it – and I start jerking it. It’s so difficult; the friction is giving my hands blisters. My forearms are burning, as are my arm and shoulder muscles. I cough from your balls bouncing up and down on my throat. I scream your name, acknowledging your body above all others. Your beauty above all others. I want my god to show me his muscles. You give me a double biceps pose, and I see your biceps swell up in size, peaking higher than your shoulders. Your triceps push down. Your forearms swell more. Your lats push outwards. Immediately you move into a most-muscular, where your traps build up higher towards your ears and your chest balloons. Holding onto your cock, you flexed it and pulls me upwards. You tell me to back away as you grab it with your two hands and jerk as hard as you can. I stand up as best I can in the cabana, I bend over to tickle your balls – each the size of an orange – and I gently lick your cockhead. I tickle under neath its flaring sides. You can’t handle it. I can feel, since I’m pressed against this 40 cm monster, waves of contraction move from the base to the head, and you cum again. You hit the top of the cabana and dent it. There is so much cum that it starts flowing over the edges and onto the concrete. You are moaning and screaming as your cock pulses, jet after jet, for two minutes? Three minutes? I don’t know. I’m swimming in your cum and sweat. I’m covered in cum and sweat from your body heat. Once it starts to slow down, you look down at me. You smile with your beautiful, chocolate, love eyes, and I whisper “fuck me.” --- Email 4. I was torn when I saw your massiveness: I know I want you to fill me physically as much as you do with love, but I also knew…I don’t know how this would work. Your cock, at least 40 cm pulsing, would tear me apart. I might not make it. I was willing to try it, because, it’s you. Looking into your beautiful eyes I knew you would not hurt me intentionally. To give me a chance, I ask you to calm down. You awkwardly lower your body – you’re so much bigger than you were, it’s stunning – and sit next to me. In order to calm you down, I start asking you about your mom, to make sure she’s ok. Your face changes, it softens, namely because I know that you have a special place in your heart for her. Her medications are helping her out, but they are just so expensive. I hold your hand during this. You’re not sure what to do. I see tears welling up in your large chocolate eyes. We will make this work. We will make this work. So quickly for your size, you grab me and give me a big hug. For being so hard and muscular, you are so soft and warm. I kiss your cheeks, then rub away your tears. You open your mouth to speak, but I immediately put my fingers onto your lips – those large, succulent lips – and tell you “shh.” Your eyes remain locked onto mine. I move my fingers, and replace them with my lips. Your lips are so soft. I caress the back of your head as you pull my body into yours. I push my tongue into your mouth. You taste even better than your cum does, and your cum is delicious. I continue to make out with you as you slowly lower me down onto my back. We found a spot not still dripping with your cum. Feeling your back move as you move me – it’s just so thick and hot – as I then move my hands around your neck – it’s maybe 35 cm, and barely visible near your insanely huge traps – to your waist, which is so small, and I’m getting aroused again. At times I wish I were growing like you, so I could please you the way you please me. Based upon how you kiss me and caress me and gently handle me, I think you are quite pleased with me. I feel you start to rub your soft cock near my ass. I had slowly been practicing being stretched by you – your girth is so much bigger than my sad looking penis, at times I feel like a child next to you – but even what I’m feeling next to me is somewhat scary. You start rubbing my ass, massaging me to make my hole relax, and continue to kiss me. Your lips are just so soft. After a few minutes of relaxation, you ask me if I’m ready. You push your soft cock – it’s “only” 22 cm at this point and around 10 cm around – in as gently as you can. I’m trying to relax, but even soft you’re so hard. You keep pushing. 5 cm in. 10 cm in. 15 cm in. 20 cm in. I can’t believe that much has been pushed in. You then, slowly, pull all 20 cm out. As you do that, I feel you starting to thicken up. Your erection is coming back. The stretch is painful, but having something that large rubbing against my prostate is unlike anything I have ever felt. I cum immediately. I cum a lot for me. It hurts. You smile, and rub the cum into my abs then start licking your hands. You slowly push the hardening and thickening 27 cm back into me, the friction requiring you to use your strength to overcome the resistance of my body. You pull back out, thickening even more – 13 cm around – lengthening even more – 31 cm. The sensation is unlike anything anyone could describe. My prostate is always being activated by your passive cock. I feel like I have a piece of shit in me that keeps getting bigger and bigger. I look and I can see your bulge inside of my abdomen, as you push back in, swell up even more, and pull out, swelling even more. You continue to kiss my face, rub your arms against my much inferior chest and arms, and I continue to feel your back, your ass, your chest, your arms. My god you are so perfect. You pull almost all 37 cm out – the pressure relieve is amazing – you leave your massive, 6 cm long head in, which is probably 17 cm around by now. You ask me to tell me I love you, and I do. You push all the way back in. I erupt again. And again. It’s too much for me. I am shaking so much that the cabana itself is shaking. You can hear others wondering what we’re doing – stupid drunk tourists – but I don’t care. Your moans were getting louder. After you bottomed out – I felt your balls slap my ass hard – you continued to grow. I felt your cock get even harder inside me. I felt it thicken inside me. I’m pretty sure there should be structural damage inside me, but I don’t feel any pain. Nothing but pleasure. You pull out, slowly, moaning so loudly that others start to giggle at figuring out what we’re doing. Your cock thickens even more as you pull out. It lengthens as you pull out. You keep just the tip in, and use just that to keep fucking me. Just those 10 cm, back and forth, in and out. It tickles so much I cum again. I start masturbating your cock. It’s at least 45 cm if not more. It’s at least 26 cm around – that’s your old forearm width! You start to shake, and I know I can’t handle if you came inside me. That might cause harm. You know that, too, and pull all the way out. Oh my god the relief. You immediately push your cock down into the towels and wooden structure of the cabana, and your God cock breaks the bottom of the cabana. YOU BROKE THE CABANA WITH YOUR COCK. Your roar shakes everything around, and you release again. The blast was so powerful it pushed you back into the cabana, ripping the bottom even more. Cum shot out around three meters everywhere underneath the cabana, and it continued to pulse inside. Five shots took out one of the railings and it collapsed on top of us. You keep cuming. It hits a cabana four meters away. Your cum hits the concrete and makes another pool. You cum and cum for the next five minutes, bathing everything in your manjuice. Guys who didn’t look gay started running over and drinking your cum. Drunk women started using it as lotion. The hotel staff wanted to take their clothes off and masturbate. It was a sight to see – I had found my glasses. You were on your back, erupting like a fountain. If it weren’t for the fact that that we were elevated we might have drown in the cum. Eventually, you stopped. People were in a frenzy, and no one noticed us. I couldn’t walk from the ass pointing you gave me, but I could sit up. I got a glimpse of you before your erection went away. Your cock was 50 cm long at least, your balls the sizes of melons. Your chest, biceps, triceps, forearms, quads, ass, calves, neck, lats, all had grown. It was too much to take in. You pick me up, kiss me gently, with your cock slapping me on my side, and ask me if we should retire to the room. I said yes, falling asleep in your arms.
  16. Dork to Beast, pt 3

    Two days had gone by since Danny had given Dwayne the supplement he got from his trainer Ivan. It was still early in the morning, and Danny was working out in the garage. He had promised Ivan he wouldn't lift weights while Ivan was visiting Poland, but he hadn't promised not to pump up everyday, so he'd been busy doing handstand pushups, bending rebar, breaking lumber and crushing brick. He'd just finished his 6th set of deadlifting the front of his dad's Range Rover, when he got a text from Dwayne. "Dude, that stuff u gave me is kickn in," he wrote. "I woke up at 6 this morn and went for a run. A run, man, and no one was chasing me. I ran all the way to the city park." "Isn't that like 5 miles from ur house," Danny answered. "Yeh and I didn't even get winded. U know that fitness trail at the park?" "The one with chinup station and monkey bars, shit like that? Yeh I know it." "I hit that thing like an American Ninja. I did 40 chinups. Remember how many I could do in PE?" "5?" "3. Sometimes only 2. And even they were bad ones kicking my legs all over. Everyone mocked me. Now I fly thru the monkey bars. I'm stoked man, that stuff is legit." "Told u" "Yeh but now I'm insane hungry. Meet for food?" "OK, how bout McDonalds there by park?" "OK, but shouldn't we be eatin lean or oatmeal or something?" "Yeh probably but it doesn't seem to matter. C u there." Danny got the keys to his dad's car and headed out. He wasn't supposed to drive the Rover, but what was the old man gonna do, spank him? Danny chuckled at the thought. He pulled into McDonald's and saw Dwayne waiting outside in a sweat-soaked running shirt and cargo shorts. "Hey, man," Danny said as he got out. "Dude," said Dwayne, "you got no neck anymore, you're just huge traps clear up to your ears." "Yeah, I was doing deads with the truck, it swells up my back and traps pretty wicked." "This truck?" "Yep." "Geezus, man," said Dwayne as they headed inside. "What's in your gym bag?" "My mass gainer shake. I'm gonna have it with about ten McMuffins." They got their food then sat down at a table. Dwayne said, "Did you see the way that cashier was checking you out?" "Nah, man, I thought she was looking at you. You're looking jacked." "I know, right? Look at my forearms." Dwayne held out his arms, his palms upward. Veins were showing all over the underside of his forearms. "Any maybe you're right, she was looking at me. I noticed it at the park, too, girls looking me over with that 'look'. Some guys too." "Get used to it, bud, I get it all the time now." "Well, yeah, you. Look at you in that stringer. I never had anyone look at me with hunger in their eyes before." Danny was already through with half his McMuffins, and was now downing his mass gainer. He saw Dwayne looking at him, and he said, "It all turns to muscle. It's crazy. I had 3 large pizzas and a gallon of this gainer shake last night around midnight." "It doesn't bloat you up?" "Yeah, fiercely for awhile. Take a look," said Danny, pulling up his tank to show his gut, bulging out like a balloon, the skin stretched tight, but with abs ridges making his stomach look like a tortoise shell. "I shaved it down this morning. Wanna touch?" "God yeah," said Dwayne, coming around the table and laying his hand on Danny's muscle gut. "Holy shit, dude, it's like a Buddha belly, except hard as marble!" Dwayne rubbed his hand on the smooth hard mound. "Yep. Except in about two hours it'll be flattening out and I'll be starving again." "My hunger's been thru the roof too, and I've never been much of an eater." "You know what else?" said Danny, "Your skin's all cleared up, too." Their faces were only a few inches apart, and Danny couldn't help but notice Dwayne's complexion, which was smooth and healthy looking. He had always had a lot of skin problems. "You're actually kind of a looker now." "Shut up," said Dwayne, going back to his seat. "You're right though, all my zits cleared up almost overnight." "Hey, I heard from Ivan last night on WhatsApp. He's taking another week over there, to go to Russia. He might be getting a supply of something new." "Stronger than the stuff we got now??" "Not sure. Guess we'll see." They finished eating, and headed out of the McDonald's. When they got outside, Dwayne said, "You want to go check out the fitness trail at the park?" "Sure." "We'll see if I can beat you on some of the stations," said Dwayne. "Yeah, ya think? Think you can beat these?" Danny flexed his arms, his biceps rising into mountainous peaks. A car that was pulling into the parking lot rear ended another car. "Dude,"said Dwayne, "your arms just caused an accident!" Danny laughed. "I think you're right. Let's go to the park. You wanna ride?" "Nah, man, let's run. It's less than a mile. I'll race ya." "You're on," said Danny, and the two friends started running up the hill that led to the park. Danny couldn't believe how fast Dwayne was. It was like he was racing the Flash. By the time Danny got to the hilltop park, his smaller friend was resting on a bench. "What took you so long?" chided Dwayne. "Very funny, pip-squeak. I'd a beat you if I didn't have 150lbs more muscle to schlep." Danny went over to the back of the bench, picked it up and tipped it up until Dwayne fell off of it. Dwayne landed on the ground in a heap, but he wasn't hurt. He looked at Danny in awe. "Man, that bench is made of cement...it must weigh 450lbs! . "Does it?" asked Danny. "Doesn't feel that heavy," and he pressed the bench up over his head and started pressing it for reps. "Fuck," said Dwayne, watching his huge friend from the ground. Then he said, "Geezus man, your legs..." Danny tossed the bench behind his head where it landed on the grass and sank in about a foot. He looked down and saw that the run up the hill had bloated his legs full, and had brought out a whole new level of vascularity. His massive quads were covered with them, snaking in and out of thick layers of muscle, and his big calves each had a garden hose sized vein running across the outside sweep. "Hoo yeah!" said Danny, bringing his right foot up and flexing his calf. The thick muscles bulged outward, shifting the vein to one side as it swelled. "Let's skip the fitness trail, and go into the woods behind the park. I'm feeling like I could uproot a tree or two," said Danny. They crossed thru the park along the jogging path. Almost every jogger they passed turned back to get a second look at the two young friends. One guy looked for so long, he ran into a tree. Dwayne went back to help him up. "My friend is so huge, it's hard not to look, isn't it?" Dwayne said to the guy as he got him back on his feet. "He is yeh, but I was looking at you. You're jacked up so lean and hard. You look real strong for your size." The guy jogged off, embarrassed but unharmed. Dwayne stood there for a second, stunned. No one had ever complimented his physique. "Dude, come on," yelled Danny. "Did you hear what that guy said?" asked Dwayne as he caught up. "Yeah, I heard. You got him all atwitter inside, stud." "I did, didn't I?" The two of them headed into the woods, with Dwayne walking with an exaggerated swagger like Vince McMahon heading to the ring. They made their way thru the trees, until they came upon a stand of birches. "Think I could rip one of these outta the ground?" asked Danny, stripping off his stringer tank and tossing it to the ground. "Just one? Why don't ya try two at once, ya cocky brute." "Yeah? You wanna see cocky?" Danny found two birches, about five feet apart, and stood in between them. He reached out his arms and grabbed their trunks, one in each hand. He tightened his grip around the trees, each trunk about 20 inches in circumference, his meaty fingers crushing into the crunchy bark and almost reaching completely around the trunks. He squeezed harder, adjusted his stance, and began to lift. Muscle all over his body tightened and clenched, and his nostrils flared, as he lifted upward with his huge arms. The leaves on the two trees started shaking, and more bark flaked off as Danny's powerful grip dug in. Dwayne heard the ground start to rip around the base of the trees. "Dude...." he said in awe, as his Herculean friend began to force the tree trunks upward, inch by inch. Danny grunted deeply with each effort to lift the trees more. Thick veins popped out on his neck and across his chest and delts, and down his big arms. He threw his head back and his neck bulged like a column of sinew. The trees lifted higher. The ground around them tore apart faster as Danny lifted them up, up, up. He shook the trees back and forth, freeing the roots from the earth. Finally, he ripped them free of the ground and held them midair like two trophies. "Dude..." said Dwayne, leaning against the trunk of a third tree."You a freak..." Danny let the tree trunks go so that they both fell behind him with a crashing thump. "Yep," he said brushing his hands together to knock off the bark flakes. Sweat rolled down his thick muscles, dripping to the ground. His huge barrel chest heaved in and out. "You got me all riled up now, man," said Dwayne. "I got to try something myself." "You gonna try to rip up a tree?" "Nah, I ain't no rhino like you. But I've been watching mma vids, and I've been aching to test out a roundhouse kick." Dwayne was already circling a birch tree. Not as big as the ones Danny had taken on, but not a sapling either. He squared himself up to it, then swung his leg into it, whacking the trunk with his shin. The tree snapped in half, the top part toppling down next to the two trees Danny had uprooted. "Aw, yeh!!" growled Dwayne. "Man, didn't that hurt your shin?" "The weird thing is, it didn't. I felt it, but it's not like real pain. I've been kicking and punching stuff at home, like walls and columns, and it doesn't hurt me." With that, Dwayne stripped off his running shirt and flexed into a most muscular pose. "Man, you are definitely jacked up! You look like Conor McGregor without the ink!" "Who's that?" said Dwayne, looking down at his newly sinewy arms. "You've been watching mma stuff and you've missed McGregor? You gotta look him up. Fuck, you could probably take him if you can snap a tree in two with one kick." "I doubt that, but I am starting fighting lessons at that UFC gym downtown tomorrow. I met the manager who thinks I have potential." "You definitely have that. Flex your arms for me." Dwayne grinned and lifted his arms into a flex. "Man, you got peaks! I bet those things are 16 inches of pure muscle." Danny reached out and put one hand on each of Dwayne's arms. He squeezed them. "Fuck, dude. They don't even dent." "Oh come on, those sausage fingers of yours can't dent my little arms? Squeeze harder." Danny crushed down on the biceps, digging his big thumb into the belly of the muscles. "They're like rock," he said. "This isn't hurting you at all is it?" "Nah, man. I feel it, but it sorta feels good. it's kinda fucking turning me on." Danny lifted Dwayne up off the ground by his two arms. Dwayne smirked. "Awww, yeh man. Harder!" Danny walked with his friend in the air, over to an oak tree, and pinned Dwayne high up against the trunk. His crotch was even with Danny's face. "You ever have a bj, Dwayne?" "Heck no man, you know I've never had sex yet. Neither have you." "Let's change that," Danny said, and he started unzipping Dwayne's cargo shorts with his teeth by biting down on the tab and sliding Dwayne higher up the tree. "Oh god yeh,"groaned Dwayne. Not only had his muscles gotten bigger and harder, so had his cock. Thicker too, and able to muscle its way out of his pants and plop onto Danny's face. Danny took it into his mouth. He'd never given a blow job, but he figured there couldn't be that much to it. He just started sucking and bobbing, while pinning Dwayne's arms against the tree. Dwayne arched into his big friend's face, as a feeling of total ecstasy flushed thru his body. Nothing had ever felt so good. "Goddammmm," he grunted over and over. "GodDAMMMM>" It didn't take him long to bust like a fountain down Danny's throat. Danny took it all like a seasoned pro. It was like being force fed a protein shake, so he continued to milk his friend until he was totally dry. Then he lowered Dwayne to the ground. Both of them were a little lightheaded. They laid down on the mossy ground, both smiling like deflowered virgins. "You want payback?" Dwayne asked Danny. "Eventually," said Danny,"but now I have to get going, I'm running late." "For what?" I have to drive out to the university. I have an appointment with the wrestling coach." "You're going to try out?" "Yep. And I'm going to make a deal with the coach. I'll be his heavyweight champ, but only if I get to use Jack as my training partner." "Dude, that's too wicked good," said Dwayne, getting to his feet and zipping himself up. "Definitely let me know how that goes."
  17. Growing Together

    First Story! I'm still getting a handle on things on this site, but this is really the first story I've EVER posted online...EVER! I hope y'all like it. There wasn’t really anything I wouldn’t do for Tommy, and so that’s why I wound up doing just about everything for Tommy. You could say our life together is anything but normal, but I think that’s part of what makes it all so special. We were freaks. But soon we would have to change the way our dynamic was working because I was starting to become so freaky, I really needed help taking care of the both of us. Sure, we were never bodybuilders or anything, but we had dedicated our lives to becoming the biggest, freakiest, most musclebound monsters there ever was. Tommy got there a few years ago, with the help of entire teams of doctors and nutritionists, personal trainers, freaking scientists! It took a lot of work, drove us completely over the edge, but together, we transformed ourselves into beasts and formulated lines of supplements all kinds of shit to help other people grow like we did. But no one ever came close to Tommy. There are a handful out there a lot like me, over six hundred pounds of beef, albeit a little blubber here and there. I’m not cut like I was in college, but it’s grown on me. Something with my system and the formula just didn’t agree and I blimped out a bit. It’s nothing crazy, just some pooch, but it makes me look all kinds of swole. I can’t really fit through doorways, and clothes have to be made custom, but I love shit to be tight, so sometimes I buy normal stuff so I can hulk out of them. Tommy loves it. He can’t really get up anymore, not without help. They gave him all kinds of implants and hormones to make him a little taller, to pack on more mass, but more importantly, make him sturdier. His bones are fucking huge! When we met, he was like six feet tall, maybe two hundred thirty pounds of off-season bulk. Today, after maybe ten years, he’s seven feet even and almost a thousand pounds. He can’t tie his shoes anymore, he can’t wipe his ass anymore, he can feed himself after we stretch for most of the morning, but that’s about it. We really only dress him to workout, but he has shit that’ll make him decent if one of us is feeling like going on a little date. “Babe.” I pat the mountainous slab that was his pec. “Baby…” Due to his size, Tommy snored. Sometimes, if he wasn’t angled right, he stopped breathing, but that was a problem of the past. Now, the real struggle was getting his giant ass up in the morning; his snores rattled the windows! My heart always melts when I watch him sleep. All those enhancements we made on his body had gradually altered his face too. When we met, he kept his blonde waves cropped short, and you could cut glass on his cheekbones. His jawline was thick and manly, and the cleft in his chin went deeper than I thought a cleft could really go. His lips were luscious and lovely, but it was his eyes that won you over. He had the most gorgeous pair of baby blue eyes framed by long lashes. Those eyes were really the only thing that remained of the man I had fallen for, at least on the outside. He had been swallowed up by the beast of my dreams, a hulk with a jawline that nearly gave him an underbite. His lips had plumped up, growing thick like something even a porn star would be envious of. His cheeks had sunken in as his metabolism skyrocketed, eating away every ounce of fat on his body, making his cheekbones stand out all the more, and then growing even farther when he started on his bone supplements. Every muscle in his face rippled, the veins on his temples often bulged out when he spoke or chewed, his brow had grown heavy like a brick. It was a hard face, but the hottest and most lovable face I had ever known. He was my beast. “Hey…” I tried to shove…something. I pushed on his shoulder, his globe-sized shoulder, but I barely even made an indentation on his skin. “TOMMY!” I slapped his leg. There was a satisfying PAP! sound as my hand clapped against his beefy, hairy thigh. Even relaxed, every striation stood out like his skin were paper thin. That roused him. He stopped snoring and mumbled, confused and annoyed. “Uh?” His morning voice was so deep and scratchy. He jerked his head around as best he could without much in the way of a neck. His thick beard hung down, between his pecs and slipped back and forth as he looked around the room. “What?” he croaked. “We gotta get up.” I said, kissing him. “I made breakfast, come on.” “Mmm…” He tried to stretch, but he could barely lift his arms. “Noooo…” Something jerked me forward, and suddenly I was crushed up against my lover’s immense body. It was only when he literally ripped the clothes from my body with a single tug that I realized he had pulled me in for a bearhug. His foot long morning wood brushing against the insides of my own massive thighs. I got hard right then and there. That was another thing that I absolutely fucking loved about Tommy. When we fucked, he could hold me up in one hand forever. I’m fucking massive, but he was a monster that could bend around and throw me and manipulate me like I was just a toy. He took me by the wingspan that was my lats and lowered me down on his massive cock. It still felt like he could tear me in half, but I loved it. Even lying down, his balls were so huge my thick backside slapped against them. He fucked me for what felt like an hour, getting harder every time he made me scream or moan. I had lost all control of myself, and this was just morning wood. I lost all track of time when he came inside me, but by the time he had finished, my guy was taught. He tried to get up, still holding me, but bending at the waist was impossible right now. The other day, we had destroyed his chest and abs, and he moaned with pain as he found against his own body. Tommy set me down, but I had lost feeling in my legs. And there we were, him sprawled out on the bed, me sprawled out on the floor. Even laughing hurt like hell as he chuckled at our situation. We had turned ourselves into total freaks, and I don’t think either of us would change a single thing. To be continued?
  18. coming home

    Since winter vacation started, i usually spend it with family or my boyfriend Danny. We met in college a while back, I'm two years ahead of him and he just completed his first year. Now Me and him meet in class and we fell for each other, he’s kind, funny and just so cute, like a little ball of joy you can keep in your pocket to cheer you up whenever you’re down. I loved to play with his wavy blond hair; he had that skater twink look I liked for some reason. He’s pretty skinny for a guy his age, like you can pick him up like a toothpick with one arm, it was just adorable. He wasn't skinny to the bone, he’d could eat whatever he wanted and wouldn't even gain a pound. The other thing I loved about him his mini plump ass that I could (and have) destroy countless time and pretty decent dick I could have fun with. We haven't spoken in a while since he went to go visit his parents; I've gotten pretty lonely without him around, id loved it when I would get back from the gym and he’d welcome me home asked how my gym session went and I'd show him by flexing my pumped body, he loved to feel me all over when would come back from the gym; to be honest having your muscles worshiped feels great. One day I got a text message from Danny while I was at work. Danny: hey sorry i haven't msg you in a while hope you're OK, I miss you a lot since I've been gone and don't worry I'm doing just fine, I'm keeping this short because I'm heading back home soon. I hope you like you gift, see you soon ;] He sent me that picture and could not, for the life of me believe this happened in two weeks; it took me years to get big and now he's almost halfway to getting my size, i'm 235 pounds of muscle and the last time I checked, he was 129. Whatever it is that happened to him, I want what he's having.
  19. EDIT: Index of Chapters: Chapters 1-3: See below Chapter 4: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=129914 Chapter 5: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=130640 Chapter 6: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=131076 Chapter 7: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=131485 Chapter 8: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=132071 Chapter 9: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=133087 Chapter 10: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=133988 Chapter 11: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=135527 Chapter 12: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=135528 Chapter 13: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=136405 Chapter 14: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=137921 Chapter 15: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=139040 Chapter 16: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=139903 Chapter 17: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=140806 Chapter 18: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=142531 Chapter 19A: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=143838 Chapter 19B: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=144296 Chapter 20: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=144513 So I've noticed lately there's been a real slow-down in new material so I thought i would help out. I have lurked here for years so I thought I should pay my dues and post a story. I haven't written anything since way back in high school English so I have no idea if this is any good at all. Hopefully it doesn't suck. Also, the first few chapters of the is going to be very similar to a well-known story by Musclegod300 (and one my absolute favorites) until I get far enough to take a unique direction. I promise I am not trying to rip you off MG300, please take it as the ultimate compliment, as you are in the top 3 of my favorite muscle story authors ;-). +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Dad's Lost Glory Years Prologue: I had just graduated high school and the summer of my last year at home was winding down. My name is Jed Graves and I had spent the last few days packing up what I could and preparing myself mentally to leave my father behind. Not so much for my sake, I didn't think. More for his. My father, Chad Graves, was an amazing man who had lived a hard life. Growing up he was, plain and simple, a stud. Ever since he was very young he was always one of the most athletic kids in his class. He excelled at every athletic sport he played, even earning starting positions at linebacker on our high school football and baseball teams by his sophomore year. He was a shoo-in for all-state honors in football before a freak back injury ended his season right before the playoffs began. During play he was awkwardly bent over backwards and was nearly paralyzed. The doctors let him know he was very lucky he came out of it with only minor injuries. Consequently, with his athletic prowess, charming yet humble personality and stunningly rugged good looks he was very popular, especially with the ladies. He dated around in his early high school years, even snagging the interest of some the upper class girls. Many of the upper class boys wanted to hate him for stealing some of their women but he such a charming and fun personality that he endeared himself to all. He fell in love with a woman that would become his wife and then my mother when he was just 16 years old. She was the same age and of course, athletic and gorgeous, a track star in her own right. Shortly after came the biggest test of my parents' young life. The virile young man got my mom pregnant and I as born right before his 17th birthday. My father and my mother never once considered terminating the pregnancy or offering me up for adoption. They decided to raise me as best as they could, with my father giving up his athletic pursuits to take part time jobs at nights after school to help raise me. This was certainly a difficult time for both of my parents. With some assistance from my Dad's Grandparents they were able to raise me to toddler-hood while maintaining their slightly above average GPA's and graduating high school. Throughout my infant years my father continued to find jobs here and there. Once he had graduated he settled nicely into a construction job that was ran by a family friend. With his strong, 6'1 frame, the interviewer knew he would be able to haul around the heavy equipment and materials with ease and he was a hired on the spot. He proved to be a hard and courteous worker. He took pride in his work and he knew this would be his only form of exercise that his robust body craved while I was growing up. While my presence was undoubtedly tough on my young parents, they both loved me and each other unequivocally and never once regretted their decision to have me. Our small family was able to scrape by via modest, yet comfortable means through the hard work of both of my young parents. I adored both of my parents and saw my father as my own personal superhero. I especially loved when we would go to neighborhood pool and he would use his thick arms to toss me up in the air so I could try to make the biggest splash I could. Unfortunately, life has a way of throwing you curveballs and when I was 8 years old my mother was killed in a car accident during a winter storm while driving home from her job. It of course hit both my dad and I very hard. However, like every challenge that ever faced him, my father soldiered on and worked even harder to love me and give the best life he could. Growing up my genetic background was easily evident as I also excelled at nearly every sport I did. I too was able to secure a spot of the varsity football team from an early point in my high school career. While I likely could've been just as good at or exceeded my father's accomplishments I never really had that killer athletic instinct that truly elite athletes have. I was happy with just being “good” as opposed to “the star” was enough for me. I saw sports mainly as a good way to maintain my healthy physique throughout high school and rather than as a means to advance my athletic career. I grew to match my father in height at 6'1 on a solid, but not ripped 190 lb frame. In fact, I actually excelled more at academics, earning myself a engineering scholarship to the large state university. Even though I more heavily pursued academics in lieu of athletics my father never once wavered in his support of me. I honestly think he was more proud of me for my intellectual side as he had first-hand knowledge of how difficult life can be without a college degree. While I was growing up my father maintained his healthy strong physique with his hard work at the construction job. Some aged-ness did catch up to him in he form of a layer of softness around his large muscles, but we has still a stud. At only 35 years old he still had no receding hairline. His dark hair was kept short and he had an angular jawline with an almost permanent 5 o'clock shadow that would be the envy of any man. To tease me, my female friends constantly reminded me of his rugged DILF status much to my chagrin. Honestly, I couldn't blame them or deny that I hoped I could become half the man he was when I reached his age. I often told my Dad he should get out and date more often than he did but he never pursued it much further, preferring to spend his free time with me. So here we were, my father and I making the 5-hour drive to the university to drop my off for my freshman year. We moved my stuff into my dorm then went our for a nice meal before saying our goodbyes. The parting was very difficult for both of us, it was the first time I saw my father tear up since my mother passed away. We hugged each other and then he took off for home and I began my college career Chapter 1: Thanksgiving Break College began with a flurry as I settled into my new routine. I called my father at least once a week as we kept in touch. Engineering classes, as well as a regular workout routine, kept me more than busy. It was during the first month that my father told me he had been promoted to a site manager position at his construction job. I was super excited for him as it meant a big pay raise. The only downside was that it meant he would be spending more time in the construction office rather than outside doing physical labor. Due to the lack of physical labor, when my father came down to visit for Thanksgiving he had put on about 20 lbs of mostly fat, bringing him to still healthy, if just a bit soft 225 lbs. My workout routine had been going steadily and I was up to about 200 lbs, adding about 10 lbs. Of course, with the nearly ulimited amount of food at the school cafeterio it was probably only ½ muscle. When I first saw my dad I of course playfully had to give him some ribbing. “Hey Pops, it's great to see you again,” I said as we wrapped our arms around each other in a typical man-hug. I could feel his belly push against me. “Woah, old man what's going on here? Too many hot pockets?” I joked as I playfully jabbed his midsection. He heartily chuckled. “Yeah son, all that time sitting in the construction office this past fall has taken it's toll. Last week I really noticed so I up and joined that new gym that opened up a few blocks from our house this past summer.” The gym he was talking about, 'UrbanFlex', was a national chain known for being a mecca for serous workout addicts. “Oh yeah, that place? You think you can keep up with the dudes that go there?” “Of course, son! I know my way around a weight room even though I haven't been in one a long while. I spent a lot of time in one before you came along and ruined my workout life,” he shot at me with a joking wink. “I can see you are still putting some time in the gym. You are looking more and more grownup, I'm not sure I like. I miss my little guy.” “Aww, Pops, you're embarrassing me. And thanks! I'm up about 10 lbs. Just trying to get half a studly as you, old man!” “You'll never match all this beef, boy!” he said as he threw his arms in front of him for a mock most-muscular pose. I absolutely loved my father and his playful attitude. We had great Thanksgiving weekend here in the university town hanging out and of course, eating way too much once we settled on a restaurant. After our meal we parted ways and looked forward to visiting each other for over Christmas break. Chapter 2: Christmas Break. Four days before Christmas I ended up sharing a ride with one of my female classmates from high school for the trip back home. It was lightly snowing when she dropped me off at my house. With my duffel bag full of clothes slung around my shoulder I entered in the house. My father instantly bound in from the kitchen and wrapped me in one of his patented crushing dad-hugs. Unlike at Thanksgiving, I instantly noticed there was no fluff pushing at me from his belly. After he released and held me at arms length I was able to get a good look at him. He definitely looked much trimmer in his slightly baggy blue t-shirt. He always maintained his fairly muscular arms but now I able to see some more definite veins on his forearms and his face seemed tighter. “Wow, dad you great! What happened to that old-man flab?” “Well I knew this studly young buck was coming home so I decided to get rid of it keep up with him!” He quickly raised his shirt and patted his slim, semi-hairy belly. While he far from ripped, he had a taught waist that was far cry from the pooch he sported at Thanksgiving. “Been hitting that new gym hard. I've lost about all of my office fat. I'm down to 200 lbs, I feel small now just like you, haha,” he added in jest. “You mean you're now studly like me!” I retorted. “Haha, yeah, exactly, we are two peas in a pod! Maybe over break I take you to the gym with me.” “Awesome, pops. That'd be great. I certainly don't want to fall out of routine over break.” We enjoyed a great Christmas. We went to visit my Grandparents and caught up with the extended family. Of course we ate way too much food. I was surprised at how much my father was shoveling into his mouth. “Woah, careful dad, you're gonna gain all that fat back you keep eating like that.” He chuckled, “Maybe son, but I thought I'd indulge myself since its a holiday. Plus actually I've been eating much more heartily since thanksgiving so I'm not too worried.” The day after Christmas we decided to get back into our gym routine. Thirty minutes before we left Dad opened a kitchen cabinet full of supplement bottles, big and small. He started mixing various powders into a cup. “Geez, Dad, are you going a bit overboard with all that?” “No way son. With my new raise and you out of the house I decided I need a hobby. So I'm going see if I can really take this workout thing seriously. Besides, so far I can't argue with the results!” He again patted his trim waist. “You want a preworkout shake, son?” “No thanks, Dad. You go ahead. You need it more than me, old man,” I replied as I faux-punched his shoulder. “Haha, we'll see. The car's warmed up, let's head to the gym.” We grabbed our duffels and headed to the gym. On the way the pre-workout must've been kicking in as I could tell my dad was getting antsy. “Can't wait to throw around some iron, son. This five day break has got me itchin' to get back to work.” We got the gym and headed into the locker room to change. I had heard of these UrbanFlex gyms but it was the first time I had been to one. It truly was a hardcore gym. Unpainted brick walls, loud pounding rock music, a smell of sweat that lingered in the air. The clientele was definitely a step above your average fitness club. Clearly, coming here for the past month was giving my father good motivation. While changing I got good look at his progress. He still had those thick, full, yet soft muscles, but the fat had clearly been melting off. While he still wasn't what I would call ripped, the definition and veins were just beginning to show all over. Standing next to him with my shirt off, his youthful visage and our identical heights and weight, we almost looked like twins. As he changed into his shorts I couldn't help but take a glance at what he was packing. With our superior genes I never got any complaints from my dates. I hung soft at 5” inches and only plumped up to just under 7 inches. Still nicely above average but I was always just slightly disappointed that I was more of a shower than a grower. When my father dropped his shorts he hung about equally to me in length, but was MUCH thicker. It looked like a flesh colored Red Bull can hanging between his legs. I tried to suppress my surprise but I think he noticed and I thought I saw a wry smirk appear on his face as turned and pulled up his underwear. I could only hope that I wasn't quite done growing and could someday match that thick monster. We headed out to the weight room and my Dad gave me the most intense chest and shoulder workout I have ever had. My father attacked the weights with a savagery I could only imagine. As we entered the weight room Pops looked like a caged tiger. As all lifting bros seem to do, we started with barbell bench press. We ended up having very similar strength levels but my father was clearly superior in form and intensity. We worked our way up to 265 lbs. I was able to get it for eight ugly reps but he got it ten, in perfect strict form. We then worked our way through incline and decline dumbbell benches and finally cable flies to finish off the chest. Each set was nearly identical as my father was just able to outdo me on every lift. I couldn't tell if he was getting his normal reps or if he was purposely trying to make sure he outdid me on everything. We then did a full shoulder routine of military presses, lateral and front raises and Arnold presses. During each exercise my father had also been giving me “helpful tips” as he called them, correcting my form and showing me the the best way to perform each exercise. I was getting a little annoyed and I thought he sounded like an overzealous personal trainer. By the end of the workout his light grey t-shirt had turned dark as it was soaked with sweat and was taught against his pumped muscles. I had the usual sweat spots under my armpits and under my chest but looked nothing like the drenched man next to me. “Damn, Pops, look at your forearms, your veins are unreal!” “Yeah, I always get a great pump. I love that feeling you know! You can almost feel your muscles growing, I love it!” Dad was starting to sound like one of those jocky frat guys I hear at the campus gym. When we finished this big handsome guy came over and started talking to us. My dad introduced him as Ted. He was huge, he looked like one of those real bodybuilder guys. He was just shorter than us, about 6' but probably 225 lbs of bulging muscle. He had short brown hair styled up and forward to a point. You could tell he was one of those serious lifter guys as his legs and arms were shaved and he had a light tan even though is was the middle of winter. Plus, he was wearing one those small stringer tank tops you tend to see the big muscle guys wearing. I guessed him to be about 30 years old. “Teddy, my man, how's it going!” Dad said as he slapped Ted's meaty shoulder. “This is my son I've told you about.” The larger cheerful man replied, “Doin' well Chad! Nice to meet, you Jed. Wow, you are a spitting image of your old man, you two look like brothers! You're father is a beast, I've never seen anyone who lifts as hard as him. I learned a couple of weeks ago not to come distract him in the middle of his workout. He was practically screaming at me in front of the whole gym to leave him alone. Won't make that mistake again!” “I already told I was sorry about that, but yes, don't bother me when I'm in my zone.” Dad playfully punched Ted in his chest. Ted and my Dad were having a complete bro-down. Dad added, “I started lifting with Ted just after Thanksgiving. He was the one who taught me how to do all the exercises correctly. About a week ago his work schedule shifted so we don't get to lift together much anymore.” Ted replied, “Well it looks like you're still makin' good progress! Let's hope those newbie gains don't slow down.” “Oh I'll make sure they won't,” my father said with a seriousness that almost seemed ominous. “Well, nice to meet you Jed, see ya' around Chad-man.” And with that Ted turned his wide, defined back to us and headed back to his work out. “Damn, Dad no wonder you have been making such good gains, that guy was huge. His lats were enormous!” “Yeah, he is huge, huh. He told me he's even placed highly in a couple of the local physique shows. Ted showed me how to do things right with the lifting, diet and supplementation. I owe a lot of this to him,” he mentioned as he gestured to his sweat soaked body. On the way home Dad pulled out a couple of pre-made shakes and handed one to me. I almost couldn't drink it because it was so thick. When we got home Dad immediately headed to the kitchen and started pulling out Tupperware containers full of chicken breasts and vegetables. “Son, would you grab the peanut butter out of the pantry?” In the pantry I did a double take. Clearly, a lot of his newly expendable income had been spent on improving his body. Along with our normal foodstuffs it was full of giant supplement bottles of every kind. Proteins, BCAAs, glutamines, vitamins, pills, and other chemical names that I had no idea what they where. “Holy crap, Dad. Do you think you are maybe taking this lifting thing a little to seriously?”. “Haha. Maybe Son! But as the results have kept coming I keep trying adding new things. I've always loved working my body but now that I mostly sit in a office the lifting really helps me de-stress. Plus, if it continues to give me the added benefit of being healthy and looking good then I'm can't complain!” “True, I guess I can't argue with that, Pops.” We sat down to consume a post-workout meal. My father practically inhaled his food. He had to have consumed three whole chicken breasts along with a heaping pile of broccoli and peanut butter toast. All I could do was stare as he just kept shoveling it in. My mind flashed back to this summer watching the hot dog eating contest on TV during the Fourth of July. As he was finishing his meal he finally looked up at me and gave an embarrassed, wry smile. “Sorry, I always get really hungry after a good workout. You not hungry, son?” Breaking my stupor, “Oh, yeah, sorry I guess I was just got lost in my own world.” I started eating. I guessed I ate about 1/3 of the total that he did. “Sorry, like you I guess I tend to get lost in MY own little world when I'm eating. Like Ted has told me, you have to eat big to get big!” “So you are trying to get bigger, Dad? I thought you were just trying to lose some weight to get back into shape?” “Well, sure I want to get bigger, son. What man wouldn't like to be bigger and stronger? I love you to death son and I don't blame you for anything, but when you came around I sorta had to sidetrack my athletic pursuits. I guess now that I have the time and means I'm just making up for lost time,” he said as he patted me on the back. “I guess you could say I'm finally getting to experience my glory years, even if just a tad late.” “I get it Dad. I think you should go for it. You're looking great. You're gonna have to start beating the chicks off with a stick if you keep it up!” I said as he guffawed and walked out of the room. This routine kept up for the next two weeks, the rest of my winter break before I had to return to school. We would go to the gym two days on and one day off. Dad continued to be a madman in the gym and eat like a horse afterwards. Two days after New Years we were at the grocery store when I ran into two of my good female classmates from high school. Amy and Mandy were also back in town visiting their families. They both went to a community college that was only about an hour away. They were two of the more attractive girls from my class and I was proud to say that Mandy and I even dated for a while during our sophomore year. She was actually my first. Inheriting my father's good looks certainly never afforded me any trouble with opposite sex. “Jed! Great to see you!” they both squealed and ran up to hug me. We proceeded to talk about how our early college careers were going. While we were talking they kept glancing at my father. “Jed, is this your roommate?” Amy asked. “HAHA!” my Dad let out huge belly laugh and slapped my back forcefully. “No, girls. This is my father.” “SERIOUSLY JED! Wow, Mr. Graves you look so young!” said Mandy. “It so nice to meet you.” As they shook hands and acquainted with each other I noticed the girls seemed to be acting strange, giggling at his cheesy Dad jokes, whipping their hair. That's when I figured it out. They were totally flirting with my Dad!! “Well I see where Jed got his great looks from,” Mandy stated as they finished up their conversation. “And his body!” Amy added as my face blushed a deep red. She also reached over and gently put her hand on my dad's flannel shirt covered arm. She was totally feeling my Dad up! All the while they were chatting you couldn't pry the giant glowing grin off my father's face with a crowbar. This was obviously a huge boost to his self esteem. “Well it was nice meeting you ladies, we'll be seeing you around” and with that we parted ways. As we checked out and walked back to the car my father seemed to standing up little straighter, had his chest puffed out a bit more. And, ahem, it tought it looked another part of him was bulging more than usual. That night I received a whole slew of text messages from Amy and Mandy telling me how hot my dad was. They were even joking about me giving him their phone number. At, least I think they were joking... It was a little over a week later when we had our last workout together before I had to head back to school. That day we did sort of a full body circuit routine. “To really shock the body,” as my dad put it. I was getting more used to it, but his intensity was still nothing short of intimidating. If I weren't his son I would've been completely scared to go near him. Over the last two weeks the weights he was using were slowing ticking up. Grunting with aplomb, he put every ounce of effort he could in to each rep of each exercise. While it was intimidating, it was also very motivating and I too seemed to be making great short terms progress over the last two and half weeks. After the workout, my father once again soaked, we headed to the locker room. “Hey, bud. I've been texting with Ted and he says I should keep a log of my progress. I brought a notebook and measuring tape. Could you help check my stats?” I thought this would be a little awkward but I agreed. He disrobed to his tight black spandex underwear and, holy crap! We had been coming straight home from the gym since that first workout before Christmas. Since that workout two weeks ago he had noticeably improved. A little less fat, a little better definition, a little better vascularity and of course, a little more size, all over his entire body. To try to control my shock I undressed and and jumped on the scale. I was at 195. I had lost a few pounds but I could tell it was all fat thanks to the intense workouts. “Looking good champ, let me try.” He stepped on and the small weight slammed against the top the balance. He adjusted the weight. “209 pounds” He stated enthusiastically. I was almost aghast. “Wow Dad, 9 lbs is a lot to gain in two weeks. It looks like you gained even more than that in muscle. You've definitely lost some fat, too.” “Yeah I think so too, Son.” He pinched a small fold of skin on his waist. There wasn't much there to grab. You could definitely make out his abs under the ever shrinking layer of fat around his waist. We measured his arms. A nice solid 17.5 inches. Chest, 48 inches. Thighs, 25 inches. He always had huge thighs, that was his genetic gift, if you don't count everything else about him. Waist, 33 inches. “Hey son, what sort of guns are you sporting?” I really didn't want to measure. I knew I had good arms but also knew his were bigger. No man likes to have it pointed out that they are smaller than another man. We had about the same shape, but he had just a bit more size. “I don't know Dad. Hey we better shower and get going.” I tried to distract him. “Nah, let's see those pythons first,” my Dad said again sounding like a frat jock. He wrapped the tape around my arm, “16.5 inches, very respectable son. Certainly not quite on this level though!” At that he through up a double bicep pose and I'll be damned if he didn't look like one of those physique models. Ya, know, the guys who are just not quite big enough to be bodybuilders so they cut all the fat away to get ripped, but not huge. A little less fat and he could certainly hop up on a stage with them. It was a little emasculating. Again my Dad seemed to puff up with confidence as we strode to the shower. “You're going to have to step up your workouts at school if you want to keep up with me!” “Aw, Dad, I'm fine with the way I look. Still better than most guys out there” He shook his head, “Well, suit yourself son. I'm going to go ahead put on a bit more size.” “Well Dad, don't be surprised if you slow down, those beginner gains are always the best.” “Yeah, Ted has mentioned that to me too. Hopefully I can prove you both wrong, haha,” he winked and headed to the showers. After the shower we headed home and he had, of course, another gut busting meal. Sadly, my winter break ended and I headed back to campus the next day. I was immensely proud of my Dad, he was handling his empty nest syndrome wonderfully. On the drive home all I could think about was how much better he was looking. I could only hope to someday look half as good as him. Chapter 3: Spring Break I quickly fell back into the routine of school, which as an engineer meant a lot of study time. The first year and half of engineering school mainly consists of “weed-out” classes. These are classes that are very difficult and are designed to make sure only the worthy students make it through to the upper level courses. During these classes about half my engineering peers won't cut it and will choose different majors. Unfortunately, all this studying meant I was spending less and less time at the campus rec center. My father, on the other hand, was apparently still “crushing it” as he repeatedly noted in his text messages. He had been texting me more and more since I came back to college. I don’t know if he was just excited about his progress or was purposely trying to show off. I suspect a little of both. He had also started emailing me new workouts that he was finding on the web as well as links to sites about nutrition and new supplements. All I could do was roll my eyes at everything he sent me. He was totally obsessed with this workout thing! Apparently, Ted’s work schedule switched again and so he and my Dad were now lifting together again. According to my Dad’s texts they were even hanging out as friends more often. Dad even mentioned them going to the bars a couple of times on the weekend together. Was my Dad, the guy who never dated, going out on the prowl? I was glad to read to that. Growing up my Dad never spent a lot of time hanging out with friends. I knew it was because of the long hours he worked to support our family. So I was happy that he was making some friends, as cheesy as it sounds. One day in February he asked me how my progress was coming along. I told him I was only going to the gym a couple times a week due to all my studying. He replied that he was proud of me not taking my college career for granted. Then he added “Be careful that you don’t become one of those little guys ;-). I don’t want to be TOO much bigger than you the next time I see you”. My heart thumped in my chest. How much more had he grown? Surely his newbie gains had to have slowed down, right? Finally in March, after an exhaustive week of midterms it was time to head back home again for spring break. Some of my friends were headed west to go skiing and invited me along, but I was still a relatively poor college boy so I decided to forego that and save my money and go home. So I hopped in the car and started back for along, needed week off from school at home. I drank a bit too much water on the way home so when I finally got there I was in a rush to use the bathroom. I had to park on the street as Ted's red pickup was in the side slot of the driveway. I barged in the front door and saw Ted's wide, tanned, muscular back in a stringer tank top. The back I remembered from January. He was sitting at the kitchen table facing away from me reading a magazine. “Hey Ted!”, I shouted as I hoofed it to the bathroom. Right as I turned to enter the bathroom the door swung open and I crashed into a meaty pair of pecs in tight t-shirt. I was majorly confused for a second as I realized, I crashed into Ted! “Jed, my man, good to see you!” he said. “Yeah, you too. 'Scuse me, nature calls,” as I squeezed by him and entered the bathroom. While relieving myself I finally had time to process. I had ran into Ted. That means that wide, muscular back at the kitchen table must've been...Dad! Holy cow! From behind he looked huge, just like Ted! I finished my business and headed back out the living room room where I again bounced into some, semi-hairy huge pecs. “Champ, you made it! I missed you, buddy!” I heard as my newly enlarged father wrapped his thick arms around me in a crushing father-son manhug. Once again I was having trouble processing as I was squeezed in a cocoon of rock hard flesh. He smelled like a total jock. That combination of recently showered soap smell combined with just a hint of lingering sweat and muskiness. As he released me I backed up a took a look at him in full. He was standing next to Ted and they now looked more like brothers and than my Dad and I. With a bright grin plastered on his face he let me soak him in. Finally he opened his arms wide, looked down at himself, then back to me and asked, “What do you think?” “Damn, Dad. You are pumped as hell! Have you just been living in the gym since Christmas!?” My father threw back that handsome head and guffawed. His thick, fireplug neck bulging with veins I had never seen before. “Just about, son! I love it. Everyday I feel like I'm getting better and better and getting bigger and bigger. I've got more energy than I've had since high school.” He was standing up straight and had his balled hands resting on his hips in a total superman pose. Only, he was more ruggedly handsome than any actor who had ever played superman. “Wow, that's awesome Pops, I'm still in shock.” “Everyone seems to be saying that to me lately, but I love it! You should see the stares I've been getting when I go to the grocery store or out to the bars. I can't lie it's been a huge ego boost! Plus it's been fun to make 'lil Teddy here jealous, haha!” Ted playfully punched my father's meaty shoulder. The connection made a meaty 'thwack' but my father didn't flinch at all. “Hey! Watch it old man! You been killing it in the gym but you still haven't quite caught up to me!” “YET!” my father retorted. “Hey, Jed, take a look at 19 inches of pure muscle!” And with that he threw up a single arm bicep pose in front of Ted. HOLY SHIT. A big solid ball of muscle mounded up toward the ceiling right in front of Ted's face. I had seen my Dad jokingly flex his arms a few times while wrestling with me while I growing up. He always had large, sturdy arms. But in the past when he would flex his arms would just sort of tighten up. Now, instead of just tightening up his arm actually grew into a softball of muscle. There was a definite line between his biceps and where his meaty triceps reached toward the ground. Running along his biceps was a large cephalic vein you usually only see on the truly muscular guys. All I could do was stare as another wave of emasculation and jealousy flowed through me. Next, that feeling got worse. Ted maneuvered himself around Dad's arm and flexed his opposite arm right in front of my father's arm. His own tanned, massive arm flexed upward and eclipsed my father's huge gun, but only just so. Gawd, it was like watching two bodybuilder's jockying for position during a final posedown of a competition. All the while both egging each other and laughing. It was a muscle lover's dream. “Jed, who's bigger?” Ted asked, still nudging his shoulder into my Dad as they continued their frolicky upright wrestling match. My mouth hung agape and I tried to form the words to reply. “Ted, ya big showoff we know you are bigger,” my dad jumped in. “Ted's bigger but you are really close, Dad.” My father lit up like a Christmas tree at this. My father slapped Ted's big back. “I'll take it! Being compared to this big oaf is a big compliment. We measured the other day, this gun is only one inch shy of big Ted, here.” Ted added “Yeah your pops is right there with me. I weighed in at 232 lb yesterday and what were you, Chad? 220?” “224! Right on your tail big guy!” DAMN! My dad had put on another 15 lbs of solid mass since I last visited! “I keep thinking your old man's gains will slow down but he just keeps growing. He's been matching all my lifts in the last couple of days. You're father is a beast.” Ted then grabbed his coat and headed out. “Well I gotta head back home so I'll give you some catching up time. Good to see ya again Jed, enjoy your break!” Ted left and I and my father and I just stood there staring at each other as I took him in. He looked like he could step on a stage for a novice show with just a couple weeks of dieting to really slice down what little remaining fat he had. “I'm really glad you're back champ. Hey son, no offense but you look a little smaller. Have you stopped lifting?” “Well with studying I haven't been able to stay as consistent. Down to about 190 lbs. Engineering classes are hard.” “Well, I'm glad you are staying on top of you classes and not wasting your education. Even though you could've been a great athlete I'm so proud that you are using that brain of yours. Good thing your mother was smart so you could inherit some intelligence, haha.” “Dad, stop you are one of the smartest, most down-to-earth people I know, even if you didn't go to college.” Dad gave me one of those one-arm side hugs, “Thanks Son. I do hope you can get back into your gym routine, I need someone strong enough to spot me when we lift this summer.” And so began my Spring Break week with Dad. On Sunday I went with him to the gym. I was almost afraid of what I was going to see. Since I was out of practice I was going to do a full body workout, while Dad was hitting up chest. I told him I would spot him in between my sets. We went into the locker room to change. Dad slid off his pants and took off his shirt and proceeded to open his locker. He was wearing a black par of spandex underwear that clung to his meaty thighs and ass. He had a prominent bulge. Was he horned up? It looked like it was bulging more than I remember. He looked like a physique model in his shorts. Like one of those guys you see on Men's Health covers. Not overly huge, but just big and bulgy enough to put those ripped, yet skinny models to shame. A light tan with just a dusting of hair over his front and a bit more hair on his legs. I've mentioned before that Dad always had slightly over-proportioned legs. It's a good thing his spandex trunks were stretchy or else his thighs would've torn the underwear after one set of heavy squats. My dad caught me looking at him again. “You're going to have to stop staring or else it's going to go to my head,” he said with a smug grin. He put on a stringer tank that left no secrets of his buffed physique. We proceeded on with our workouts. Dad began with bench press. I was going through my sets when I noticed he was up to 265 lbs on the bench, the same amount we ended with during Christmas break. I went over to spot him. “You can do a couple more of your sets I'm still warming up.” Wait, what?!? He was still warming up? “Dad, are you sure? This is the most I've ever seen you lift.” “Really, son? This is all I was doing at Christmas? Damn, I was weak.” He immediately saw my embarrassment and apologized. “Oh sorry Son, I was just joking to myself. I know this is what you lifted at Christmas and trust me it is impressive for a young guy like you.” “Gee, thanks Dad” I gave him a wry smile. So I proceeded to do a set of lat pull downs and dumbbell shoulder presses. When I was done I felt a big heavy hand fall on my shoulder. “I'll take a spot now, champ!” “Ok, Dad.” We walked over to the bench. Holy Shit. He had 335 lbs loaded onto he bench. “Geezus, Dad, this is a lot of weight! Ok so are you going for a low rep set of 3-4 reps?” He chuckled that deep,masculine rumbling chuckle his. “Not quite, son. I should be able to get 10 reps easy, just keep an eye on me.” “TEN REPS! This is like 70 more lbs then you were doing three months ago!” “Yeah, it sure is.” He proceeded to bench 10 reps in quick, strict form. Letting the bar come down to touch above his nipples, and then with a light, sexy grunt, lifted the bar straight up, 10 times. After the first set he did the same with 345 and 355 lbs. On the last set I had to help him on the 10th rep. But I was still stunned out of my mind regarding his impressive lifts. My dad got up off the bench after his last set and turned to face me. He now had worked up a light sheen of sweat that covered his body. In just his stringer tank you could see his pecs were red and swollen with effort. His nipples nearly pointing down due to the impressive shelf he had going on. He let out a big exhale “Woo, that was a great pump.” He swung his arms back and forth to keep loose. Every time his arms swung forward his upper pecs bunched upward toward his chin, deepening the already impressive cleft in between. “Shit, Dad...” was all I could say. He warned me against it, but he had clearly left me behind on his lifts. It was amazing and emasculating all at the same time. “He he, thanks Son.” The rest of week was more of the same. Dad continued to blow me away with all his lifts, which all seemed to be 50-100 lbs more than I could ever do. He also continued to blow me away at the dinner table. His meal portions were even larger than the last time I saw him. He had to be eating over 6000 calories per day. Dad was also spending a lot more time on his phone lately. Apparently, Ted had got him set up on Tinder and his phone was constantly buzzing. I certainly couldn't blame all the ladies messaging him. I always heard my Dad was a stud. With his improved body he was now on another level of manhood. I felt bad for all the other local men in the area for having to compete with him. On late Friday afternoon of that week a buddy of mine and I were heading to a city that was about 3 hours away for a concert we had both been wanting to see. Dad wasn't disappointed, he said he had been chatting with a girl from Tinder and that they would to meet on Friday night since I was going to be gone. We headed to the concert but when we got there we found out the the lead singer had come down with the flu and the show had been canceled. We were obviously bummed but were assured we would get a full refund. So we went to a nice restaurant, ate and then decided to head home early. I was wondering how my Dad's date was going. On the drive home I sent him a message letting him know we would be home early. I didn't get any response so I figured it was going well. Finally we got home about 11:00pm. My buddy dropped me off and headed to the front door. As I was about there the door flung open and pretty young woman frantically ran out looking unkempt and disheveled. . It was obviously she didn't want me to see her. And I then I realized why. Is was my friend and fellow classmate, Amy! “Oh, um, hi Jed” she said embarrassed. He hair was a mess “I was just...um...gotta go I'll see ya around.” HOLY CRAP. Amy was my Dad's date. And I know sex hair when I see it. She had totally hooked up with my DAD! My dad showed up at the door shirtless in a pair of gym shorts looking like sexy sated warrior. “Have a good night Amy.” “Om...um...thanks Mr. Graves...I mean, Chad...” she stumbled out. I stared at her in shock as she walked down the drive to her car on the street. “Dad, you know she was in my class right? Don't you think she's a little...young?” “Yes, I know. Son. And don't worry I'm wasn't looking for a relationship. We just had a little fun, that's all.” He stood there leaning against the doorway, proud as a peacock. The moon light shining on his bulging pecs and abs. My dad was a total jock stud. The next morning continued to be a little awkward around Dad. He noticed “Son, please don't make this weird. She's 19 years old and an adult and I'm a red-blooded grown man. Sometimes I have...needs.” I just hid my face in my hands as he spoke. Finally I relented. “I get it Dad, but maybe try to avoid my classmates, if you could.” “Heh, well I'll try son. But I tell ya though, it's getting harder and harder to avoid. It's like this bod of mine has become a supercharged chick-magnet. And I plan on supercharging it further.” “Seriously, how much further do you think you can go? You are already HUGE.” “Well, I think I'm decently big but far from HUGE.” He put an emphasis on the word “HUGE” with a faux most-muscular pose. His body still instantly tightened and seemed to pump up even larger. “But, Ted is going to help me see if I can really get in the realm of huge.” “What?! You're not talking steroids are you? Pops, please don't do anything stupid to your health.” “Buddy, you have nothing to worry about. Ted is going to hook me up with his doctor who prescribes him some HGH and testosterone. And the fact that is is a real doctor means he can monitor me to make sure nothing goes wrong.” “I don't know, Dad. I'm don't like it.” Dad came over and put his hefty right arm on my shoulder and looked me in the eye with a serious face. “Son, please trust me on this. I've been doing my research to make sure I'm not doing anything to jeopardize my future. Have you heard all those new radio adds in the last few years about male medical clinics and low testosterone doctors? What I'll be getting is the exact same thing those people offer. If it were dangerous why would there be so many doctors and clinics out the prescribing this stuff?” “I guess that's true Dad. But you clearly don't need any testosterone, you look like a walking testosterone factory!” He smirked, “Well that may be true son, but why should all the weak beta males out there get this stuff and not the alpha men who will actually put this stuff to good use?” I was surprised that my Dad even knew the term “beta male.” He sounded like a body imaged obsessed bro! “Well, please be careful. After losing Mom I couldn't handle it if anything happened to you to.” Dad wrapped up in his bulging heavy arms and pulled me to his chest, leaned back and lifted me off the ground. It was weird, my now bigger dad made me feel like I was 10 years old again, him giving me one of those dad-hugs that makes you feel safe and secure when you are a young kid. “I love you to death son and I promise I will be careful. This is something I really, really want so I want you to fine with it.” I sighed. “Dad, after all you've been through, you deserve it!” At this, with my feet still hanging a couple inches above the ground still wrapped up in his huge arms. Dad smiled widely and squeezed even harder. “OOOHF! Easy there big guy. You're going to squash me!” Dad set me down and let out a big guffaw. “HAHA, well son you better start lifting again 'cuz those hugs are going to get a lot tighter!” I had no reason to believe that would not be true. The next day I headed to college to finish my freshman year, wondering what Dad would look like when I came back for summer. NEXT CHAPTER: BACK FOR SUMMER
  20. A Twist on My New Year’s Resolution

    Short Story - A Twist on My New Year’s Resolution Please feel free to tell me what you think! I am planning on writing other stories, and maybe a sequel to this one if people want it. Hope you enjoy it! Okay, just hear me out. I know everyone always makes a New Year’s Resolution, usually fitness related, but never meet them. I understand that the gym gets full of people trying to get in the best shape of their lives at the start of the year…for a few weeks at most. But I’m different, I’m going to do it; my name is Drew and my New Year’s Resolution is to go to the gym and get ripped as fuck. Being skinny all of my life has not made things easy for me, especially during my first year of college. I’ve never really been popular, and if we’re being honest, I haven’t even kissed or had sex with anyone. My friends have always been pretty nerdy and geeky too, but don’t get me wrong, I like them all, I was just hoping for something different in college. Sadly, nothing has changed during my freshman year, except for the fact that I’ve gotten even more jealous. I’m tired of watching the hot muscular guys on my floor get with whoever they want whenever they want. My roommate, who isn’t even that big, has already been with like 10 different people. I’m forced to sleep over at my friend’s dorm every Saturday night, while my roommate is having his way with some hottie. I’m honestly sick and tired of it…but I have a plan. I am going to get some muscle on my body if it’s the last thing I do. Every day after class I am going to get myself into the campus gym, and I’m just going to work at it until I can’t anymore. I laid out my plan for my friends and they just laughed in my face. After I got over my initial anger, it actually just motivated me more and more. Leading up to New Year’s Eve it was all I could think about. I wanted to be muscular, I wished I could finally have sex, I needed a body that others would envy and drool over. The thoughts raced through my head, making me so horny, so turned on. Then, New Year’s Eve came. I was forced to attend my family’s New Year’s Party as I had no other plans. I didn’t care for it though, all I could think about was waking up tomorrow, driving back to my college, and heading to the gym. As my family watched the ball drop at midnight all I could do was wish to myself that I would get huge this year. But, after hanging around for a little while longer, it was time for bed. As I woke up the next day I had one of the worst headaches I’ve ever had, and my body felt so heavy. I was so annoyed that I might have to miss my first day at the gym, but it was honestly so hard to get out of bed and drag myself to the bathroom. Then, it hit me…as I looked in the mirror I almost didn’t recognize who was looking back at me. The first thing I noticed was that I was taller and now hosting a sexy and strong jawline. But then, I looked down, to find that my shirt and pants were almost bursting at the seams. My jaw almost fell to the ground…I couldn’t believe what was happening. The first thing I did was start to rub my right bicep through my shirt. Without even flexing I could feel that my bicep was now rock solid muscle. But then as I flexed it I heard my shirt rip, and through that I could see the giant bicep popping out through the sleeve. Amazed, I proceeded to do a double bicep pose in front of the mirror, which was too much for my shirt to handle. Drool trickled down my chin as I watched the shreds of my shirt fall to the ground, revealing my new muscled body in all of its glory. Along with my huge biceps I now had massive pecs, which I couldn’t help but bounce. First the right one and then the left one, and then together, again and again…fuck I was so turned on. Then, I focused on my abs, abs that looked like they had been chiseled out of marble. I had to play with each and every one of my six new abs giving each on personal attention. I couldn’t believe that this was my new body, the body of a god among men. Unable to control myself any further I ripped my pants off, revealing tree trunk like legs and a dick begging to be taken care of. I took my right hand and started to frantically stroke my cock as my other hand rubbed all of my muscles. I began by flexing my abs and pecs while my hand felt up every corner of my upper body. Then, as a started to moan and breath heavily, I went to massage my other bicep that was expanding as I stroked faster…fuck I’m close. As I started to play with my giant legs my cock released endless streams of cum all over the bathroom floor. I was experiencing some greatest pleasure in my life, but I needed more, my cock needed more. I ran back into my room and as I looked around I grabbed a pillow and jumped onto the bed. Fucking a pillow had always been a go too way for me to masturbate, but with my new muscles it was a completely different experience. As I knelt down on the bed with my amazingly muscled ass sticking up, I placed the pillow in front of my dick. Then I just went at it, uncontrollably fucking that pillow as hard as I could. With every thrust I went faster and faster, harder and harder, deeper and deeper. The entire bed shaking and hitting the wall in rhythm as my cock went in and out of the pillow. My entire body flexing as the sweat made each of my giant muscles glisten. My pecs, my biceps, my abs…wow I must have looked like a fucking sex god. I felt more powerful then I had ever before, so strong that the pillow could barely even handle a quarter of my new found strength. I shortly realized that the pillow was beginning to rip apart in my hands. I laughed to myself a little but the thought of not knowing my own strength was honestly turning me on so much. As I started to use a third of strength to fuck the pillow the feathers started to burst out all over the bed. I had been such a weakling before this and now just a fraction of my strength—my own godly physique—actually fucked a pillow to shreds. But I needed to finish, and this pillow was not going to do it anymore. Throwing the remaining pieces of the pillow off the bed I leaned over to my nightstand and grabbed some lotion. Feeling up my rock hard pecs and rubbing my nipples, I started to aggressively stroke my cock. Getting close I moved to flexing my huge sweaty muscles as I rubbed my dick faster and harder. My moaning and heavy breathing got even louder as I continually brought myself closer and closer to the edge. Before I knew it my cock was exploding with even more cum then in the bathroom again and again and again. Once it looked like my dick was done I fell back onto my bed dripping with sweat. After such an ordeal I thought I would be exhausted but it looked like this body could take far more than what I just did. As I laid on the bed imagining everything sexy and terrible naughty thing I could do with my body I realized that this was only half of my New Year’s Resolution. It was time to get up and give this body the training at the gym that it deserved. I needed to get even more ripped, even stronger, and even more of a fucking god. I quickly got up, took a shower, and put on some workout clothes, which barely fit over my massive muscles but looked sexy as fuck on me. What took me even longer was cleaning up the huge mess that this real man’s body of mine had made, but I honestly felt like I had a few more rounds in me. With my family still fast asleep, I got into the car to head to the gym for the workout of a lifetime. But I couldn’t help but think about what everyone was going to say about my new body. It was time to show off, have fun, and be the sex machine that I was meant to be. I was especially interested in showing off to my nerdy friends who didn’t believe me…oh were they in for a surprise. As I began to drive away all I could do was laugh to myself as I made my monster sized pecs bounce up and down through my shirt, stretching it to its limits. God, this semester was going to be insane…
  21. Bitten by the Growth Bug

    I've been having this kind of recurring fantasy in my waking hours the last week or so, so I figured I might as well write it out. Here's part one. More parts to come as I have the chance to add them. This is just set-up, so far. Once the growth gets going, I'm intending to take it pretty far. You didn't know him that well. He was the guy whose eye you sometimes caught. Glances exchanged in the food court in the basement of the office block where you both worked. Maybe three or four times a year - the slender guy with the cute face and the good hair and the nice little butt just curving out the back of those skinny-cut grey trousers, you'd think. The hot guy with the widow's peak and the jutting pecs whose wide shoulders are putting a hurt on the seams of that dress shirt, he'd think. Mark, you think his name is. You spoke once, in the elevator. Miraculously alone together, briefly, fleetingly. You traded names, a remark about the goddamn weather. Then - "I've seen you around." "Yeah, I've seen you around, too." That flush of heat where you both know you want to dive in, suck face, rip the clothes off your heaving bodies, nail that fucking twink to the mirrored wall with your steel-hard cock, but it's 1:00 on a Tuesday and there's meetings to attend, conference calls to join, quarterly reports to be revised. That kind of bullshit. But your eyes meet, and both of you know. And then the elevator dings and the doors open and the spell is broken and dull crushing ordinary life resumes. But the sexual energy flashes in the distance even still, like far-off heat lightning on a dry summer night. At least, that's what you tell yourself. Every now and then, that inner voice of doubt - Derek, settle down you're full of shit. Well - maybe so. But a fantasy's a fantasy, right? And then one day he comes over, in that damn soulless could-be-anywhere foodcourt, and asks if he can sit across from you. Well - naturally - you say yeah. Kid's nervous, you can tell. "Kid." He's maybe 25, 26. Just two or three years younger than you. But he's running his hands through his coiffure, he's fidgeting. You decide to cut to the chase - why let him twist in the wind? "You gonna ask me out, bud?" He looks shocked, but not offended. "Well, uh, kind of, actually. I was wondering... um. Your body... shit." "Yeah, it's a pretty good body," you say, leaning back a little, feeling the fabric of your shirt stretch and strain over your lats as you rearrange your posture. 5'11", 210, lean enough for abs. "I'll bet it is," Mark blurts, face flushing. "No, damn, I'm doing this all wrong." "Relax, bud," you say, not actually wanting him to relax. You enjoy how flustered he is. "Your body," he resumes. "You obviously know your way around a gym. I want.... I want to bulk up. I don't mean a little. I mean, at least as much as you, maybe more. I know I'm skinny as hell, I know it must sound ridiculous. But I thought maybe you could point me in the right direction, tell me which gym to go to, what trainer to hire, I don't know. No one I know is into it. They all think muscles are creepy and gross." You smirk, not unkindly, and lean in close, let your voice shift into something a bit more bedroom-y. "But you don't." "I don't," Mark gulps. "Fuck, man, I'm so nervous, just saying it." You consider him. He's probably your height, but he can't weigh more than 155 lbs. His clothes are well-cut, and you can see the suggestion of a good structure underneath. Good bones to build on. "I'll tell you what, Mark. You come to the gym with me this weekend, and I'll give you a little intro, just as a favour to a friend. You definitely wanna work with a trainer. It's expensive but hey, you're in this same corporate hell as me, right, you can probably throw a few thousand a year after this, right? I think I know the guy for you...."
  22. Manzeum (Part 4)

    Part 3 can be found here… https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10931-manzeum-part-3/By Richard Jasper “I’m gonna level with you, Doc,” Roger said. “I don’t get it. I’ve gained 25 lbs. in two weeks and I’m lifting heavier – way heavier – than I ever did in my prime. What’s going on?” Peterson cleared her throat nervously. “Well, Mr. Funderburk, uh, the medication does tweak the metabolism,” she said. “You have more energy. All of our patients, in fact, have more energy. What they put it into, however, varies a great deal.” She continued. “Some are passionate about gardening, others about music, and I have at least one fellow who is insane for stamp collecting. You wouldn’t believe the albums he’s put together.” Roger nodded his head. “And I’m into bodybuilding,” he said. Dr. Peterson blinked. “Yes, apparently so,” she agreed. “I must say I know of only one other case where physical progress has been this extreme.” Roger chuckled. “Scott Allen.” Peterson blushed furiously. “Mr. Funderburk! As I’m sure you know, I couldn’t possibly discuss another client – it would be a violation not just of medical ethics, but also the law…!” Roger shook his head. “He’s gained what, 75 lbs. of muscle in 10 weeks?” Peterson started to nod, then stopped herself. “I’m further along than he was at the same point, I’m guessing.” The young endocrinologist decided to get huffy. “Mr. Funderburk, if you’re displeased with the results, we can always stop,” she said icily. Roger held up his hands. “Not on your life,” he replied. “I want to see where this goes!” He received his third shot. That afternoon Kevin once again ushered him into his office at the gym. Once again Roger stripped to his skivvies and Kevin took his measurements. Weight: 246 lbs. Chest: 52 inches Waist: 33 inches Arms: 20 ½ inches “You’re the same size I am, give or take five pounds and a half inch here or there,” Kevin said. Kevin, who was 20 years younger and a nationally ranked competitor, now looked upon him as a peer. Roger felt a stirring in his groin. “And I hear you benched 495 lbs. yesterday,” he added, licking his lips. “That’s 50 lbs. more than I can do.” Roger lifted his right arm and f-l-e-x-e-d. The tent in Kevin’s pants bulged. “This isn’t the only thing that’s grown,” he purred. Kevin’s eyes widened. “I think it’s time I introduced you to the inner office,” he said. “Follow me.” Roger had never noticed the door behind Kevin’s desk, or, if he had done so, he assumed it was a closet. Turns out he had a mini-suite back there, complete with sofa, king-sized bed, full-sized bathroom, and a mini-kitchenette. “Sweet,” Roger said, then threw Kevin down on the bed, pinned Kevin’s thick wrists against the silk duvet, and went to town. An hour later… “Time to go eat,” he said. “Then time to lift.” The look on Kevin’s face was approaching awe. “You’re not slowing down, are you?” Roger laughed. “Babe, I’m not slowing down,” he replied. “I’m speeding up!” The next week found Roger in the gym three times a day. He was at the Original Pancake House before his first session, at the all-you-can-eat sushi place between sessions, and at the steak house after the last session. Every session he lifted heavier than the last session, no slowing down, minimal recuperation time, and no soreness from one day to the next. In three days Roger put on 11 lbs. of muscle. By the end of the week he had gained another 14. He was averaging 3.5 lbs. of muscle per day. The results were spectacular. Kevin basically ditched all of his other clients to focus on Roger. And after Roger’s last workout they retreated to The Inner Office for Kevin’s workout. Not that Roger was in any way satisfied. He spent two hours every evening at the Phoenix Club or out at the bars where he was suddenly the hottest property around. On the night before his fourth session with Dr. Peterson, Roger skipped the Club and the bars – and took Kevin home with him. After raucous sex, he and Kevin were both standing in front of the expansive bathroom mirror. Roger was now noticeably larger and more muscular than his erstwhile mentor. “Kevin, have you noticed anything odd about my appearance?” Roger asked. The snort of derision was not unexpected. “Seriously, I’m not talking about the muscles,” he added. “I’m wondering where my wattle went.” Kevin blinked. “Your what?” Roger chuckled. “You know, that loose skin you get on your neck when you get to be my age,” he said. “I had one and now it’s gone.” Kevin thought about it. “Well, you’ve added, what, something like 50 lbs. of muscle? Of course, your skin has tightened up.” Roger shook his head. “I don’t think it works that way,” he said. “Plus I know it shouldn’t have gotten rid of the wrinkles around my eyes. Or firmed up my jaw. And, for the love of God, I have cheekbones again.” Kevin looked at their images in the mirror. He was used to thinking of Roger as being the same as his dad’s younger brothers, both of whom were in their late 50s. Now, though… “You could pass for my older brother,” Kevin said, awed. “My slightly older brother, come to think of it.” Roger harrumphed. “And you’re how old?” he asked. Without missing a beat, Kevin replied: “Thirty-eight.” More to cum…
  23. Manzeum (Part 3)

    Part 2 can be found here… https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10930-manzeum-part-2By Richard Jasper Roger was headed out of the gym when Kevin stopped him and asked him to come into his office. “You’ve been making great progress, Roger,” Kevin said, eyeing him up and down. Roger felt like there was in a but… in there somewhere. “You know,” he said. “I’ve been taking this new diabetes medication and for whatever reason it has really tweaked my metabolism.” Kevin nodded. “Same one Scott’s on?” Roger’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I know,” Kevin said. “He’s made remarkable progress. He’s put on 50 lbs., all of it muscle, in the past two months.” Roger gulped. “My doctor said there were some occasional side effects,” he pointed out. “But nothing like that.” Kevin shrugged. “I couldn’t say but whatever it is it makes me wish I had diabetes!” Roger laughed. “Believe me, no, you don’t.” Kevin changed the subject. “But that’s not why I called you in here,” he said. “If you’re going to be growing as much as Scott has, I want to get your baseline measurements. I’ve wanted to do the same with him – but he’s resisted, for some reason.” Fifty pounds in two months? Roger thought. That’s insane. “Sure,” he said. “Won’t hurt. I’m sure this past week has just been a fluke but it’s certainly motivated me to get back into the groove. Let’s do it.” So they did, with Kevin carefully recording the numbers: Weight: 232 lbs. Chest: 48 inches Waist: 34 inches Biceps: 18 a Quads: 26 inches Calves: 17 ½ inches Roger gaped. Those measurements were as good as any he’d had in his prime. “Let me guess,” Kevin said. “Waist down two inches, chest and arms up two inches?” Roger licked his lips. “To tell you the truth, I really don’t know,” he allowed. “But I’m guessing at least that much.” Kevin winked at him. “Keep it up, stud, and we’ll have you on the stage before you know it,” he said. “Master’s competition coming up at the end of the year.” Roger laughed out loud. Even in his prime he’d never been remotely close to competition shape. It had never even occurred to him. “But I’d have to get rid of my hair,” he complained. Kevin grinned. “And that would be a damned shame,” he agreed. “But it grows back, y’know?” That evening after an enormous supper Roger was still totally horned up, thanks in part to Kevin’s attentions. He drove downtown to the Phoenix Club, the local gay bath-house, and cruised aimlessly for an hour before hooking up with a cute 20-something Latino boy, about 5’8” and 140 lbs., smooth as a whistle, who clearly had a daddy complex. “Fuck me, papi,” Luis said, while sucking on Roger’s cock. Roger did not need to be asked twice. He let Luis slide a condom over this thick tool, then put his hands under Luis’ pits, lifted the kid in the air, pinned him against the shower wall, and impaled him. Luis wrapped his arms around Roger’s thick neck while Roger fucked the daylights out of him. They did it three more times – once on the pool table, once on a weight bench, once in a cubicle – before Luis passed out. Luis left his card by the kid’s wallet, stopped at the front desk to pay the kid’s tab for another 12 hours, then headed home. He was hard again by the time he got to the car. The second week Roger was even more of a demon in the gym than he had been the first week. His energy level was off the hook and so was his appetite. His stamina was boundless. He would stop himself after two hours in the gym, not because he was tired but because he was horny. He would eat an enormous meal, then spend a couple of hours at the Phoenix Club, then head back to the gym. He didn’t see Luis again until the day before his third appointment with Dr. Peterson. The kid’s eyes nearly bugged completely out of his head. “Ai, Papi,” Luis said. “I think you’re too big for me!” Roger chuckled. “Oh, c’mon,” he said. “I know I’ve gained a few more pounds but…” Luis interrupted. “No,” he said. “I’m not talking about your muscles, which are truly excellent. I’m talking about down there…” Roger gaped. “Look,” Luis said, wrapping his slender hand around Roger’s instantly hard shaft. “Last week we were exactly the same length, only yours was thicker, of course.” And now Roger was easily an inch longer, as well as thicker. It was a good 8 inches and probably 7 inches around – definitely bigger! “Well I’ll be damned,” Roger muttered. Luis didn’t let go. “I can probably take this,” he said. “But only if you are gentle. Not like last time, OK?” That evening Roger hit the gym again, the third time in one day. He slid onto the bench, wrapped his thick, meaty hands around the iron, and did one perfect rep – at 495 lbs. “I’d ask you if you needed a spot,” a deep voice said from behind him. “But clearly you don’t.” It was Scott Allen, looking as big as a house. And maybe 40 years old, tops. “Jeezus,” Roger exclaimed. “You’re fucking huge! How much do you weigh now?” Scott grinned. “295 lbs., as of this afternoon,” he replied. “I think I’m going to have to change gyms. Kevin’s running out of weights!” With that he lifted his right arm and flexed what had to be 25 inches of rock solid muscle. “Fuck me,” Roger said. Scott arched an eyebrow. “Right here?” Roger spluttered. “Uh, maybe we need to do dinner and drinks first?” he queried. Scott chuckled. “That could be arranged,” he replied. “But don’t dilly-dally. I’m not sure how much longer I’m sticking around. It may be time for a move.” The next morning Roger showed up at Dr. Peterson’s office for his check up and his third shot. The young endocrinologist’s eyes widened when Funderburk entered the office. “Umm, let’s get your weight first,” she stuttered. “Then your vitals. I must say, Mr. Funderburk, the gym is doing you good. You look, uh, vigorous!” Roger stepped on the scale. 245 lbs. More to cum…
  24. Manzeum (Part 2)

    Part 1 can be found here… https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10221-manzeum/By Richard Jasper “Hey, Roger! Good to see you here!” Kevin, the hunky gym manager, always went out of his way to greet Roger. “You’re looking enthusiastic,” he added. Roger nodded his head vigorously. “Time to get back into it,” he said, well, enthusiastically! Two hours later Roger wracked the last weight and headed to the locker room. He’d done more work in an afternoon than he had done in the previous six months. “You’re gonna feel it tomorrow,” Kevin said. Roger shook his head. “At my age, I’m going to feel it the day AFTER tomorrow,” he pointed out. “But right now I feel like a tiger. And I’m starving.” In the locker room Roger stopped dead in his tracks when a beautiful salt-n-pepper muscle bear, one he’d never seen before, stepped out of the shower. Jeez Louise, Roger thought. What a stud! “You must be a newbie, huh?” Roger said to the hunk once the latter had dried off. “Haven’t seen you around here before. Not that I’ve been around much the past few months!” The hunky guy, who was just about Roger’s height – 5’10 – but a good 30 lbs. heavier, all of it muscle, stuck out a muscular paw. “Scott Allen, is the name,” he said. “And, actually, I’ve been a member here for years. You’re Roger Funderburk, right?” Roger blinked. He prided himself on being good with names and faces but while Scott’s name rang a bell, his face didn’t – nor did that hot body! “I guess our schedules don’t usually overlap,” Roger said. Scott laughed. “Well, I have been making a LOT of progress in the gym lately,” he pointed out. “You just don’t recognize me!” Roger chuckled. “Oh, believe me, I wouldn’t forget a stud like you,” he said. “Of course, at my age making any kind of progress is something to appreciate.” Scott grinned. “Tell me about it,” he exclaimed. “I just turned 63 two weeks ago!” Roger’s jaw hit the floor. The man in front of him didn’t look a day over 50 – at least from the neck up! And from the neck, he looked more like he was in his late 30s or possibly early 40s. “No way, Jose,” Roger sputtered. “Yes way,” Scott replied. “I started taking this new diabetes medication a couple of months ago and it has had remarkable side effects.” Roger’s eyebrows shot to the sky. “Manzeum?” he asked, wonderingly. Scott tilted his head. “Heard of it, have you? On it yet?” Roger nodded his head. “Just had my first shot before I came to the gym,” he noted. Scott tapped Roger’s shoulder. “Good job! Someday we’ll have to compare notes,” he added, then finished dressing and walked out. After the gym Roger ate an enormous meal. For the rest of the week he spent at least two, sometimes three or four, hours in the gym. The expected soreness not only didn’t arrive the second day, it didn’t arrive the third day or the fourth. If anything, Roger felt more energized with every passing day. Certainly his strength was going up! Back in the day Roger had had a pretty decent squat and deadlift but bench was always his downfall. On a good day he managed 225 lbs. for 4-5 reps. But a week later he was doing multiple 10-rep sets at 315 lbs. By the time he went back to see Dr. Peterson his shirts were tighter and his pants were looser, except in the crotch and in the legs. Roger put it down to water weight but he was still surprised when Dr. Peterson put him on the scale and the number flashed: 230 lbs. That was as much as Roger had weighed back in his heyday when he was 20 years younger and lifting 5-6 times a week. The second shot of Manzeum had an embarrassing side-effect. Roger started to get hard. Fortunately, he had on a loose hospital gown so it didn’t show – Dr. Peterson never noticed. But it didn’t want to go down and the closer he got to the gym the harder it got. Kevin actually leered at him when he walked in! “Looking GOOD, Roger,” he called. It was just fuel on the fire. Roger was so horny he could barely make it to a bathroom stall where he whipped out his dick and beat off in less than a minute, something he hadn’t managed in a good 10 years. The cum that splatted against the stall door would have filled a Dixie cup with ease. As it was, it took Roger the better part of five minutes to clean it up. Stepping out of the stall, Roger immediately bumped into a dark haired hunk who, if Roger was any judge, was 265 lbs. of prime beef. “Whoa, Roger, you better slow down, buddy!” Roger’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets! “Scott!” he exclaimed. “Is that you?” The hairy hunk in front of him had wavy, jet black hair and a luxurious pelt on his chest, arms, and abs – without a speck of gray anywhere. From the neck up, he looked 45, tops! “Yeah,” he said. “You like?” Scott looked down at Roger’s tool, which had risen to the occasion and was making a major tent in Roger’s gym shorts. “Looks like it,” Scott laughed. “See what you have to look forward to?” He slapped Roger’s butt and walked out of the locker room. What’s going on? Roger wondered. What have I gotten myself into?! Part 3... https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10931-manzeum-part-3/
  25. The Security Squad, Part 1

    "Joe! Join me!" The deep voice of my best friend reached out to me from the growth-chamber. I was half-naked, and surrounded by the grey-haired scientists in white lab coats and the Guards in their intimidating and ultra-masculine uniforms. How did I end up in this terrifying situation? I met Brad in Upper Secondary, back in the mid-10s. Although both of us had reached voting-age, when the infamous election took place, none of us bothered to vote. None of the candidates appealed to us (but for different reasons), so we voted with our feet. Afterwards, we regretted that decision. The other candidates had all been rather bad, but when The Leader grabbed political power, the country turned for the worse. I very much doubt, that most of the voters, who brought The Leader to his position, wanted him to do, what he did next. By a decree -- initially, but not for long, evaluated as un-constitutional -- he dissolved the Houses of Congress, merged them into The House of Councillors, and turned the decisions of the body into just an advisory function. He dismissed some of the judges of the Supreme Court, and named himself Lord Protector of the Realm, but in everyday speech most of us referred to him as The Leader. Brad and I were not interested in politics enough, to be initially aware of all that was happening, but Karen, an eighteen year old young woman in my class, was very concerned. I liked to be around Karen for several reasons. The number of female students in Science-and-Engineering classes are still usually half the number of male students in the same classes, and it is a pleasant surprise, when someone of the opposite sex share one's own fields of interest and plans for future occupation. Her chestnut-coloured hair, her green eyes and the dimple in her chin might have added to her appeal. Too many of the girls (now becoming women) preferred young men like Brad. I met Brad in Spanish class and French class, since those classes were composed of students from both Science-and-Engineering and Arts-and-Humanities. If you expect male students from the Arts-and-Humanities programme to be short, thin and shy, Brad didn't meet those expectations. I was initially wary of him, since he reminded me too much of my tormentors in Primary School and Lower Secondary. Brad was tall. His chest and broad shoulders filled out his baseball jacket in a way, that was impossible to ignore, and he had a preference for black Adidas trainers. His blond hair was carefully formed at the top of his head, but the sides and the backside of his head were shaved. I had avoided him the first weeks, by the reasons I have already mentioned, but one afternoon he suddenly took a seat opposite mine in the student cafeteria, and began to chat like we had known each others for years. I was taken by surprise, and still prejudiced against his appearance, but, to make a very long story short, he turned out to be a very friendly and likeable person: A true friend. I quickly found out, that he wasn't interested in engineering or programming, and I wasn't the person to discuss Latin with, but we liked watching the same films -- especially the non-stop flood of action-films based on comics pouring out those days -- and we played computer games together. Unlike me, he was dancing and drinking in Fridays and Saturdays, but, from what I gathered, his alcohol intake was very restrained compared to some other students, since he didn't want to spoil his training results. Before meeting Brad, I expected all muscleheads to be ignorant fools, bullies or both of the above, but he caused me to form a second opinion. His cheerful personality, his interest in history and literature (especially ancient heroic myths), and his almost protective behaviour towards me, all contributed to my re-evaluation of those who attend gyms. It was when I struggled with my last year before University he came up with the idea: "Why don't you join me at the gym? I have heard you a thousand times, bro: That you don't have time. But believe me -- your brain will work much better with some regular exercise." I didn't know what to answer. Many different thoughts and feelings ran in all and every direction, leaving me confused. A weird feeling wiggled and twisted in my belly: Working out? Like Brad? Becoming at least a little bit more like Brad? M-muscles? And another feeling screamed in my head: There are big guys at the gym. Dangerous. Like my old bullies. Danger. Threat. And a third feeling. Revulsion. Socially unacceptable. I would never fit in at University or find a decent job looking the least bit like a stupid bro. The weird feeling wiggled and twisted. Muscles. Like Brad. Join him. At the gym. I do no longer remember what I answered him. I just remember, that the last year in Upper Secondary became a pleasant surprise. No-one treated me badly at the gym Brad frequented. The bodybuilders were either too occupied with their exercises to notice me, or were happy to give advice. There were a few overweight kids who struggled with their own kind of problems, and the fitness guys of my own age -- who might or might not have caused me trouble -- did behave well enough, probably because Brad was around. Brad was right. Exercise is good for study results. I left each workout tired, but with great calm and great focus. Physically, the effects were not amazing. Brad used the word "hardgainer" about my condition, but I, at least, developed a lean, fat-free physique with hints of toned muscles. I didn't belong to the same body type as Brad. Summer came. We finished Upper Secondary. Some of us students began to work. Some became unemployed. Karen left for an upper end University far away. We exchanged a few e-mails, letters and phonecalls, but the time between each grew longer and longer apart. Perhaps we weren't meant for each other. Neither the Technological University nor the University of our minor city are especially renowned, but I began to study at the TU, and Brad began his studies at the latter one. Remaining in our home city, we could continue our weekly habits. A democracy wasn't supposed to be like this. House of Councillors? Advisory function? In order to defend our freedom against terrorism? Closing our borders from foreign trade? Making our country great again? Instill deeper patriotism? Personally, I could agree, that the domestic religious nutcases, who claimed that The Leader was Anti-Christ, behaved like terrorists (blowing a few bombs at government buildings), but I became wary, when supporters of that former Senator Saunders were mass-arrested. Ironically, my neighbour on the other side of the road, sympathised with the action against the Saunders-followers, but was alarmed by the action taken against the violent Christian Right. It was shortly before the newspapers and the TV channels stopped reporting about these subjects. I knew, that this state of affairs wasn't right, but what could I do? What could lawfully be done against this subversion of what a democracy was supposed to be? Some student organisations formed protests in one of our squares. The third time, it was interrupted by the Police, and there wasn't any fourth time. Both Brad and I had attended the first two protests, but weren't present at the third one, more out of a co-incidence than anything else. I hadn't reflected much over my own sexuality before. We had all come of age, at a time when same-sex marriages were already in place and attitudes in society had begun to change, but, at the same time, all adults around us expected us to be straight -- especially adults like my neighbour across the road. There were two events that caused me to begin thinking. Brad and I returned from the gym one evening, and he invited me home, which wasn't something exceptional: We often spent time together, at my place or his. He prepared recovery drinks of milk and some protein powder in the kitchen. As a student, he couldn't afford any bigger flat, so his bedroom served as all-purpose room. He passed me a large plastic cup of protein drink, and smiled mischievously. He stood with his back against a bookshelf, which testified of his intellectual pursuits: A Latin grammar, A Greek dictionary, small and expensive green and red books from a publisher called Loeb, student manuals on ancient history and archaeology (and three handbooks about bodybuilding and nutrition, that looked displaced). It wasn't his intellectual traits, that were predominant at the moment: We were both pumped after the gym session, and Brad had taken his t-shirt off. He put his own protein drink down beside his computer and his plaster replica of a statuette of Apollo. "Why don't you give me advice about posing? I hope to compete on amateur level in six months, and I have to begin practicing." I felt uncomfortable, but I felt honoured, too. And strangely excited. "Uhmm. If you say so." I took a mouthful of my protein drink. And Brad began to pose. A lat spread. A side chest. A double biceps. He wasn't a heavyweight, but for an amateur he looked impressively well, despite being out of season. For a short second, my gaze flickered between his Apollo statuette and himself, and noticed the similarities. The ancient Greeks and Romans would have admired someone like Brad. "Come here, and try to bend my arm!" He stood there in his black, shiny Adidas tracksuit trousers and grey football socks. His skin tanned and smooth, but tattooed in a tribal pattern on his shoulder. An icon of small-city masculinity. And he was my friend. A cocky smile, and the mischievous glint in his eyes again. Hesitantly, I put my hand on his biceps. Warm. Hard. Pumped. I tried to pull his arm downwards, but he wouldn't yield. I put my other hand on his biceps. It was like trying to move a rock. I let my feet leave the floor, and let my entire weight rest against his upper arm. I don't know how long time I hang there, until Brad gave up. "OK. You win", he said, and sat down on his bed unusually quickly, with his cheeks warm and rose-coloured by the effort (or by something else?), his elbows resting on his thighs. I sat down beside him, close to him. I could feel his body heat, and I could feel the scent of his sweat, his soap and his anti-perspirant. We sat silent. I felt slightly embarrassed, but mainly comforted by the presence of my big friend. I wished I was like Brad. Nothing else happened that time. The second event, that made me think, happened when we watched films together several years later. Brad had competed in two amateur competitions, and placed third and second. He was bigger now, than when the first event happened. We had seen both films before, but agreed to see them again. Brad had a big TV screen in his room, and we used his bed as a sofa. We watched one of the old Hulk films, and Brad exclaimed: "Look at those muscles! I wish I looked like that!" "You don't sound like the typical archaeology student, Brad. Honestly, isn't that too much?" "There is no 'too much', Joe. Believe it or not, Joe, but when I began working out, I wasn't much bigger than you were, when you began. Now I have reached this level", he put his hands on his polo shirt, "but this is just the beginning. I want more. I want to become extreme." I swallowed. My reason told me Brad's wishes were absurd, but other parts of my mind stirred and crawled. Wiggled. Twisted. Brad. My friend, Brad. Bigger. More muscular. And myself... Becoming like Brad. Big. Powerful Protective. Warm. We sat close to each other. Shoulder by shoulder. I could feel his hard, warm shoulder to mine. Having finished the old Hulk film, we watched Captain America. The first one. The one in which he transforms from small and scrawny into a superhero. Generally, we used to comment scenes while watching them, but when we reached the scene, when Steve Rogers transform into a super-soldier, both Brad and I fell uncharacteristically silent. Brad grabbed the remote, and played the scene, when the radiation chamber opens and reveal the new improved Steve, a second time, and a third, and then stopped the film, leaving it on a still revealing Chris Evan's sweaty and shiny pecs and abs. Brad changed his posture from upright to reclining. A few seconds later, he pulled me down, so that I laid beside him. Close. Warm. Hard buddy. In order to defuse any tension - or so I guess - he tickled me on my belly, and I couldn't stop myself from laughing. Then we fell silent again. "When I got my first results at the gym, lots of chicks liked it, Joe. But, do you know, less and less women appreciate that you work out, when you are moving close to serious levels of exercise. Isn't that strange?", he began in his pleasant deep voice. "I don't know. It is rather extreme." I fell silent. Brad waited. I continued. "I have to admit, that you are very impressive, bro. And I have to admit, that it would be cool to achieve, what you have achieved." Warmth. Close. Hard buddy. "I love to grow you, buddy. That you are so typically ectomorph makes it harder." "Ectomorph? Is that what it is called? Impossible case, is what I would call it." "That's a bad attitude. You are not like you were when we started. This is testimony of that." His big hand had sneaked under my shirt, and now teasingly covered my abs. Initially, I froze in horror, but when nothing else happened, I relaxed and felt his warm hand on my belly. There wasn't something gay with this? Just two friends having a laugh. And discussing exercise. I think. And it isn't sex, if it isn't penetration, is it? "My little buddy is growing. Slowly, my little buddy is growing into a lean and hard little engineer. And I am the one growing you. I feel proud to grow you, bro." He was right. Even if my results were very modest, I hadn't reached this far, without his advice and encouragement. Warm presence beside me. Hard. I felt very good. I had been lost in thoughts, and hadn't noticed that I had wood. "There is something I wan't to discuss with you. It is rather embarrassing." "Nothing embarrass me, and you know it.", Brad answered. "Rather often, I become hard after a workout." I blushed. We were both looking at the ceiling, so I hoped, that Brad wouldn't notice. Brad laughed his friendly laughter. "Rather often? Rather often? You must be kidding, Joe. It happens always, to me. Without exception. It is a perfectly normal reaction, from a biological point of view. And then I haven't begun to mention the mental aspects. I feel so fucking pumped and relaxed and confident after each workout, so my state of mind itself would be enough to drive me horny. Have you been worried over this all the time, and haven't told me? Don't we talk about everything?" He hesitated. "Is there something else, you haven't told me?" The question hang in the air. Brad tickled my belly again, and my abs contracted. The tension evaporated. "Oh, there is a six-pack which wasn't there five years ago. And my little hard package of muscle believe that he gets no results?" Brad moved his hand away from me, and laid there silent. "Joe?" "Yes?" "Do you think you could do something? But it is perhaps too strange for you?" "How would I know, if you don't tell me what it is?" Brad was silent, and then he spoke. "Would you feel weird, if I asked you to play, that I am Captain America just coming out of that machine?" He nodded at the TV screen. I laughed nervously. Then i felt giddy. Childish? Or mature in a forbidden way? My blood pressure suddenly made my temples sound like drums. I felt cold. And warm. And aroused. I cleared my throat. "Would you like me to do that?" Brad's voice sounded slightly embarrassed and slightly husky. "Only if it doesn't make you feel silly." I swallowed. "No. It's OK. It just come so unexpectedly." I sat up in the bed. Brad was still reclined, but he was beginning to remove his polo shirt. "Let me help you." I sat on his knees, and helped him remove his shirt. His upper anatomy was revealed to me. "I am inspecting the test subject. Ehrr. The second test subject after Steve Rogers... A certain... Private Brad... who volunteered to the super-soldier programme... and... Ehrrr." I wasn't good at this, but Brad smiled, his eyes shone, and I couldn't avoid noticing, that the crotch of his jeans was filled with a very noticeable bulge, which pulsated. I tried to ignore it, and I hoped, that Brad didn't notice what was happening behind my own fly. Wiggled. Twisted. "I am inspecting the test subject's traps", touching them, "which has grown bigger and harder. And inspecting the noticeable bigger and harder shoulders." I moved my hands to his shoulders, and clenched. "The triceps and the biceps are now indestructible". Brad let out a restrained moan. I moved my hands from his upper arms to his pecs. "But the most significant growth has occurred in his pecs. My God! They are still growing under my hands! Growing into superhuman size! So hard. So..." I swallowed. Brad was moving under me, and seemed to like it. I massaged his pecs more, but wasn't good at making up a story. Where does these guys in Hollywood get all their dialogue from? "Ehrr. So the subject is still growing and transforming. Oh God! He is turning into a monster! A hero-monster full of hard, masculine muscle. Bigger than anything I have seen. Bigger than anything I could imagine. Oh! He is overwhelming us..." Brad grabbed my back and pressed me against his chest. I couldn't avoid it: My crotch now rested against his, and he was going to notice how hard I was. As was he. My mouth was close to his cheek, and I could feel his stubble against my lips. My hands clenched around his big shoulders. Then, Brad's jeans got a life of their own, and his pulsating bulge massaged my own bulge into ecstacy. We came together. Close to my best friend. Warm. Hard. Protective. Looking at that event retroactively, it was both foreboding and ironical, but at the time, we didn't know what to make out of it. We had both had sex with girls in the past, hadn't we? And we had both kept our trousers on, hadn't we? And since only penetration is sex, we didn't have sex, did we? We were perfectly straight, weren't we? A short time later The Leader pronounced an edict, that a new Sequrity Squad was going to assist both the Police force, the Army and the Home Guard, and that recruitment would be administrated by conscription. We were both very surprised and worried, when Brad received a Draft. To be continued. The story continues here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10523-the-security-squad-part-2/
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