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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!   08/20/17

      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/gc3JBYh 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. I was watching Sunday’s Game of Thrones episode, which was beyond words amazing, and the scene between Theon and Jon Snow immediately triggered this situation in my mind. If you haven’t watched Game of Thrones, (1) I’m sorry, and (2) spoilers – as in, major spoilers. Also, this is violent and involves rape – I don’t condone it, but it felt fitting. I guess I’m feeling a bit hypocritical. I hope it’s mildly enjoyable. *** Theon Greyjoy was surprised to see Jon Snow there on Dragonstone, given the humiliating defeat that his uncle, Euron, handed him at sea. He had reverted back to that weaker, smaller, defeated mindset — Reek — when he saw he was powerless against his uncle. Escaping the ship, he slowly snapped out of it. He had held himself together just enough to convince the other Iron-borne who saved him from the sea not to immediately kill him, but rather to return to Dragonstone to the queen, Daenerys Targaryan. There he can recouperate and snap out of this lowly, Reet state fully, and figure out how to stop his uncle. What Theon had not anticipated was seeing Jon Snow, the bastard of his former lord when Theon was a ward to then king of the north, Ned Stark. Theon was raised with the Stark children and Jon Snow and knew them as brothers...which made his betrayal all the more painful. It had lead to the deaths of two of his "siblings" — Robb directly and Rickon indirectly — along with his lord's wife, Caitlin, when he tried to take over Winterfell, their home. His fall from power resulted in this...this...Reek...where he had his once proud monstrous cock cut off of his body, fully erect, at the hands of Ramsay Bolton, and subjected to daily, hourly, psychological assault and humiliation. He finally snapped out of it, but seeing Jon Snow is bringing all back. Theon figured he should make the first introduction, to soften the blow. He felt the tension as he finished pulling his boat up onto the shore as Jon approached. "Jon, I didn't know you were here." Jon kept coming. "Sansa...is she alright?" Jon grabbed Theon...Reek...and pulled him up. God, he was always so strong. "What you did for her...is the only reason why I'm not killing you," hissed Jon at Theon. He had to turn his head away, ashamed, knowing Jon was right. He and Jon, along with Ser Davos, the Onion Knight, exchanged about Queen Daenarys and her help...but she was gone. Tired from the trip, Theon and his men moved around Jon Snow, the Dothraki guards, and Missandei up towards the castle. As one of the willing allies of Daenarys, Theon was provided one of the nicer rooms of the castle -- its views overlooked a large part of the sea that spread before the enclosure, receiving a nice breeze on those hot (yet not as hot as they used to be) afternoons. The bed was soft, with clean sheets, and it was quiet. He had grown used to the quiet since his...Reek...treatment. It was a nice change from the annoying chaos of sea battle. There may have been some wine consumed...a little less food eaten...and Theon found himself on the bed, feeling a bit less than his usual self. A good night's sleep in a real bed should help him recover from the incidents of the last week. If his Reek conversion has taught him anything, it's that he's not iron borne. ... A pounding on the door woke him up, similar to the pounding within Theon's skull. Whoever was on the other side of the door sounded angry, and probably was going to enter any second. Due to Daenarys's decree, he had no weapons within him, so he scrambled to find something to cover his partially naked body just as...Jon Snow entered. He was naked except for a loin cloth, revealing his chiseled body. He had grown so much since he and Theon were boys at Winterfell. Before Theon was a man: a thick, bold chest, sprinkled with hair to make the veins that cris-crossed over them seem hidden; eight bold, brick-like abs stacked atop each other in perfect symmetry; flaring obliques and lats that pointed towards a deep-cut V atop his under garments. His shoulders seemed smaller when he was dressed on the beach: each deltoid stood out over vascular, muscular, rippling arms. His legs, pale as his bastard name implied, were pale white, but covered with similar vasculature worthy of his toned body. His eyes, however, suggested revenge. Theon — no, Reek, that pathetic excuse for humanity — had fucked over Jon's family. His sister was raped, and two brothers dead, because of that Reek piece of shit. Jon desired to beat the fuck out of him, but decided he could do one better. He had heard Theo—Reek had lost his prized manhood, but he hadn't been properly treated by a man. Reek's sister, Yara, gladly and proudly slept with other women. It was time Reek learned what a real man would do to him. ... Jon normally achieved arousal from beautiful women, or at least he did before his (short lived) death. Now his only sense of erection, arousal, manhood, was seeing his family's enemies destroyed. The death of Ramsay Bolton brought hours of masturbation, where he filled cups with his cum. He found Ramsey's partially eaten body and poured his seed all over the corpse...which brought the dogs back to continue feasting. After that night, his manhood felt even more powerful, longer, harder, stronger, with his testicles filled with even more white cream seed. He had dreamt of being able to destroy another enemy of his family, like the Lannisters, but Reek presented before him was too good an opportunity to pass up. Jon's manhood started to thicken, engorging on the warm blood that fueled his anger for Reek. The undergarments started to stretch with his thickening cock, tearing noises started to become quite audible before the horror-struck Reek, fully aware of what was probably going to happen to him. Jon closed his eyes, smiling as he felt his cock stretch longer and thicken more as his knew revenge would be his. A cold snap hit the throbbing and dropping head of his penis—he had broken free, nearly the size of his fist—and his eyes now turned to Reek. Swiftly, like his beloved direwolf, Ghost, Jon pounced upon a helpless Reek, grasping him by the throat and lifting him into the air above his bed. "You fucked my family. You killed my brothers. You let my sister be raped by a piece of filth. I am not allowed to kill you, but I will fuck the revenge into you, Reek. You will reek of nothing but piss, shit and cum when I'm done...and everyone will now the filth you truly are." Jon’s true manhood stood out before him – at least the thickness of his wrist, if not his forearms, covered in veins, the length of a good sized chicken – he was a sight to behold. The head was dripping its clear, sweet lubricant, knowing that it would get to make another vessel filled and overflow. Reek screamed, knowing that whatever masculinity he still possessed was going to be ripped into him by such a massive, throbbing member. Secretly Reek wished he still had his once prodigious, although not nearly as impressive, member to grip in secret excitement. As the massive cock head pushed into Reek’s virgin asshole, the screams would be heard throughout the castle. Later it was said that the Onion Knight thought ghosts were again invading, having heard of Melisandre’s smoke baby killing Renly Baratheon. Jon’s eyes did not waver as each portion of his cock – his monster – pushed further into Reek, being pulled out gently and shoved in harder each time. The large balls, still remaining on Reek’s pathetic body, next to the stump that once could deliver the future of the Greyjoy line, bounced as Jon pushed more and more into Reek. Inhuman strength possessed Jon: his arms seemed to swell in size as he continued to push his python into and out of Reek’s pathetic body. Jon would lift Reek off his monster, feeling the cold breeze pass over each length of his swollen penis, and then immediately feel the warmth of Reek’s pathetic body, even more useless than the undergarments that were destroyed earlier, cover him with warmth. Each lifting of Reek’s body felt easier—Jon looked down, noticing that his once respectable pecs were swelling like a woman’s breast after childbirth. They were thick, covered with more veins and hair, feeling harder and more indominatible than before. His arms – biceps, deltoids, forearms – grew with each lift and trust of his mighty body. His waist grew tighter with the workout, pushing this pathetic shit of a boy onto his kingly cock over and over. Finally, after five minutes of Jon’s silence while Reek squealed like a pig, Jon had pushed the entirety of himself into Reek, and whispered “you’re mine, you piece of shit.” The swollen balls, haven also grown in size with his cock and muscles, pulled up as he unleashed pulse after pulse of his cum into Reek’s swollen, bleeding ass. Jon could feel his thick, white seed pouring down over his over thickening dick, dripping onto Reek’s bed. Reek had started to convulse as he was being filled with amazing amounts of cum, enough to where Jon lifted him off his cock and let him fall onto the bed. The convulsions continued while stream after stream of thick man seed poured out of the colossal cock onto Reek’s pathetic body, coating his chest and face. After a few minutes, the stream of cum slowed down and the convulsions stopped. Reek, covered in cum, started to speak when Jon immediately shoved the monster cock into his mouth, gripping his throat as though he meant to crush his windpipe. Jon’s cock had softened, but felt just as large in his pathetic mouth as it did up his bleeding asshole. “You don’t speak to me. I own you. That was payment for being in the presence of my brother Robb. You still owe me for Bran, Rickon, Aryia, Sansa…and then we start to talk about their troubles, deaths, and their grief due to you.” Jon’s eyes turned even darker, with his muscles swelling up even more, as his cock started to engorge in Reek’s mouth. The last memory Reek had, before blacking out, was the feeling that a rod, harder than Valyrian steel, was cracking his jaw open.
  2. The Jock Hunter

    Well, due to this being requested to be posted on this site since the O’Melissokomos site isn't compatible with mobile, here is The Jock Hunter for all who wished to read it here. Enjoy. (It's an old, story so please don't just my atrocious use of flowery prose. I do NOT write like this currently). Prologue: It was quiet. The crisp night air slithered through the trees, swaying the boughs and shivering the leaves. I stood in the darkness, the gathered night shielding me from any prying eyes. I watched Narrow Steed Community College, a boxy, rectangular bulk across the football field. The scent of my prey still lingered here, from the afternoon’s practice. I inhaled deeply, drawing the scent further into my nostrils. I paced the field, the grass and dry autumn leaves making no sound, observing the school, purveying my new territory, my fresh hunting ground. For that is after all what I am. A Hunter, a Hunter of jocks, all those who exude the heady masculinity that satiated my gnawing hunger. And Hunt them I did, for as the Lion is made to hunt the Gazelle, so I was made to Hunt them; my scent, my movement, all of it a tool to seduce and then consume their masculinity. I picked up a maple leaf, ochre red, like blood, I crushed it in my left hand, feeling the dry leaf in my hand turn to dust. “So it begins…” The Jock Hunter Part One By: JadeDragon (Solomon, previously) Narrow Steed was certainly your average rural college; you had your Brains, your Jocks, your Airheads, essentially the Cool Crowd, and the Not Cool Crowd. It was so explicitly ordinary that the student’s often complained that if only something ever happened then they would have good reason to show up to class on time. As it stood, the Cool Crowd was certainly outnumbered by the Not Cool, but as a whole, Narrow Steed Community College had a healthy population of jocks. Specifically the football jock, rare species he is in less rural areas. But, when in the rural areas, this particular species of jock thrives, as evidenced by their healthy population in this backwater college. So as the morning bell rang, I entered the college. The halls were concrete faux brick, as so many of the old colleges are, the walls made in the style reminiscent of the fifties, the linoleum floor in a constant state of needing to be cleaned. The caretakers tried their best, but in this old building dirt was so ingrained it was the floor. The student’s bustled about their way, most heading to class, some not, whether or not they actually had a spare period was anybody’s guess. I walked past the milling figures, masking my presence, watching their faces. No one would suspect what I was, and the people that do are only too late. Who would suspect a scrawny guy like me, looking like he’s hardly 18, let alone how old I really am, as someone worth even a first thought, let alone a second one. I posed a fantastic amount of danger to the resident jocks, though they don’t seem to be in the halls. Going on a hunch, I head to the cafeteria. Some may wonder how I just slip into a totally foreign college and be there, without registering or papers. I can, to some extent, direct people’s patterns of thought, if anybody asks, they find their minds glazing over the subject until it seems like the fact that I’m there just is. A useful tool indeed to stalk my prey; and now I must get to the stalking part. As I entered the cafeteria, the poignant smell of the jocks hit me over the head like an aluminium baseball bat. Mixed in, of course, are the rotten, fetid smells of those disgusting cafeteria foods, I can hardly guess how these people manage to eat that slop. But there! Like a jewel amidst mere pebbles, there they are! My prey, the jocks, had their own table. They were all dressed in their appropriate jerseys; some were alarmingly svelte, receivers and their ilk. They weren’t my prime choice of prey, but thankfully there were more than enough of my “tenderloin” meat than I usually hope for. Many of them had bulging muscle, their pecs stretching the front of their jerseys, while their thick, powerful arms seemed to attempt to burst from their sleeves. Some, of course, had softer, less defined muscle, where their bellies stretched their jerseys also, but I have nothing against them. They still prove to be most succulent meals, those linemen, linebackers, and fullbacks. The others of my kind have their own personal tastes, but to me nothing is wrong for a man, or jock, to have a little bit of pudge, or a gut, as long as the muscles matched. Choosing a table across the room from where my handsome prey are sitting, I close my eyes, focussing my hearing in the hopes of eavesdropping upon them. Straining, I begin to pick out their voices: “Fuck yeah, man! Thursday’s game was totally awesome! Thirty four to three, shit we rock!” said Scott, punctuating his point by slamming the grey plastic and metal table. The steel buckled a little, as his bicep bulged. Scott was strong, his buffed frame stretching out his jersey fashionably, but he enjoyed parties too much to have a six pack. His brown curly hair and blue eyes made up for it though, at least the girls he fucked told him as much. “But man, we should’ve had a shutout.” complained Russell. “If Chris over here hadn’t let them fucking through the defensive!” Russell was a little bit of a cry baby, despite his enormous 6 foot 4 inches, and 230 pounds. He was a linebacker, but only had a bit of a roid belly and was otherwise lean, since he was so needle-happy. But his straight, short blonde hair and baby blue eyes lent him an extremely fetching look. “Shut up, Russell!” shouted Chris, giving Russell a swat to the back of the head. Chris was a true blue linebacker, his muscle softened with fat and his jersey deformed in the front by his belly. “It’s the day before game day, and we don’t need your fucking attitude messing with us getting into the zone!” “What fucking zone is that, Chris?! There is no fucking zone, except the end zone, which you let number eighty-nine into!” said Russell, raising his voice. “Shut up, the both of you!” said Brad, team captain. He was a true prize; he was a bulked god, 300 pounds and 6 foot 2 inches at least. His dark, wavy hair was only of average length, not too long. His handsome clear green eyes looked out from beneath his dark eyebrows. His body was well proportioned, and his muscle was fantastic, but he was fond of the keg a little too much, and had a little paunch, but he was still a true man, his heady masculine scent rolled off him in waves. And if the bulging package in his jeans was any indication, he was just as fine without his clothes on too. He was smoking hot; I could feel the hunger gnaw at me more acutely, as hunger gnaws at a starving man more fiercely as he stands before a magnificent feast. “Yeah, or I’ll bust your ass in practice, you hear?” Quipped Mike, Brad’s Lieutenant in every sense of the word. He had flaming red hair, and malachite green eyes. He on the other hand, was much more disciplined in terms of diet then his friend, and his tight, defined muscles bulged from every part of him. His traps were so huge he looked like he was on a permanent shrug. His arms looked as hard as marble, and his thighs stretched his jeans like a sausage in a too tight skin, and his package stretched out his tight jeans nicely too. They continued their conversation for some time, nothing more relevant to my intellect then if a man were listening to the conversation of molluscs. As much as they were buff, hot, and handsome, they were still a lower life-form in comparison to me. Still watching their flexing, heaving muscles stretch and deform their jerseys was more than enough to get me hard, hot, and bothered. I smiled to myself ruefully; I always took so much interest in my food. I couldn’t wait to taste those muscles, and their thick, hot, jock cum. And watch them shrivel before my eyes. Suddenly the group got up, breaking my concentration and startling me out of my erotic thoughts. I could hear no more of their conversation, and the other handsome morsel’s names escaped my attention. Picking themselves up, some more hulking and slow than the others, the jocks herded out the door of the cafeteria, I walked toward the orange painted steel doors, and followed. The morning progressed, as I continued to stalk the hall; following the scent of my helpless prey. The halls often meandered aimlessly, like the architect was on acid or something. Nevertheless, I followed the delectable aroma wafting through the air unerringly, and I found my prey. I walked the halls, with the scent trail in my nostrils, my walk full of purpose and intent. People’s eyes would slide over me like my image was dark as black onyx. I arrived at my destination, the gymnasium, the reek of football jocks hung about me in the air. I loitered around the gymnasium change room in the late morning, stalking the scent of my acquired prey, Brad. Leaning against the cold concrete, I watched his nice round but stretching the back of his jeans, his muscles and gentle fat hopelessly alluring, hinting at a treasure trove of hot muscle and masculine energies. He was so ripe, so juicy for the picking I couldn’t resist going for him first. Normally, I try to pace myself, but I hadn’t fed in so long, he was just the fix I needed to take the edge off the hunger. Watching as he and some other football jocks entered the men’s change room, I entered as well. It must be time for morning practice, I thought to myself with a smirk. The change room was well lit, and there was a bench with metal bars extending to the ceiling with hooks in the centre of the room. The bars themselves were painted, but the paint had flaked and rust had devoured the bars in some places. The football lockers were off to one side, and the other walls had benches, but the hooks were only just drilled into the concrete. The floor was, inevitably, caked with grime and the showers were less-than-pleasant. As I walked in, breathing the scent of football jock, the football jocks themselves were in various stages of undress, but most were at least down to their boxers, and one or two boxer briefs, and just one in briefs. They turned, curious at the intrusion, some not bothering to look, complacent in their perceived dominance as the top of the food chain. Oh, how so, so wrong they are. However, as my scent filled to room, as it must, for I exude it as surely as their reek of masculinity wafts off of them, they all turned to look at me. Packages of various levels of impressiveness began to stretch their underwear. I eyed up the twin stretches of their balls, and was impressed at how well endowed this particular group of jocks were. Their strong, muscular bodies rippled as they turned and stared at me. Some were soft with fat, others hard and ripped. The others, the unappetizing scrawny ones weren’t here, so I stared casually at the smorgasbord which lay before my eyes. They all were so positively gods of muscle, of the masculine form; it would make what would come next all the more steep a fall for them. I licked my lips, nothing was more appetizing then college football jocks! “Oh my, I guess I must have gotten turned around.” I said, turning toward the door. I smirked, as I readied myself against the onslaught of noise sure to come. Instantly, the jocks leapt into action, their thick, muscular bodies moving to try and direct me, to get closer to me, anything to be near me. Their heaving, bulky bodies jostled each other, but of course, the strongest of them would elbow his way to me first. I turned toward Brad, his thick, but slightly fat softened muscles heaved the crowd apart, and he reached me. He had muscled the other jocks out of the way and was leaning close to me; I could see him start to sweat with nervousness. I could also see his bull balls were too large for the pair of briefs he had on, for I could see their sides as they stretched the white fabric briefs. His thick cock, now at least 14 inches hard, was peeking out of the top of his briefs as well. The whole of the fabric of his briefs strained to contain the immensity of his godlike cock and balls, so full and thick they were. He shook his hair and smiled, flexing his shirtless muscles slightly. “Hey, man. Are you new here? What’s your name?” he asked, with a smile, as his cock throbbed harder and harder, no doubt my presence was going to make him cum without even touching his thick cock. “John Smith.” I answered; my “official” name was always that incredibly generic, so no one could trace me, not that they’d succeed in harming me if they did. “No, problem, I’ll help you. I know the school and I can show you around.” said Brad, leaning against the wall, close enough that our respective scents were flooding the nostrils of the other, mine making him horny and his making me hungry. He pulled ever closer to me, as I got the full view of his strong traps, thick, meaty pecs, and little paunch of a belly. “No, it’s alright; I’ll just get a map from the office.” I said, wanting to make him squirm a little. I reached for the door handle. “No! Wait!” shouted Brad, his voice laced with the tone of panic, slamming the door shut. The other jocks too, shouted their protest. “No man, don’t go!” “We’ll be your pals!” “Please, stay!” Brad couldn’t understand what was happening to him. This scrawny little guy was making him so horny, he wanted to touch him, kiss him, and fuck him. “I’m not a fag” was Brad’s surest thought, but he was so turned on, he could barely care about that. His cock however, told no lies to me, even though I could hear his thoughts clearly, it strained and bulged and pulsed, aching for release. Brad panted, and rubbed his monster cock though the fabric of his tight briefs. He loved wearing pairs of briefs that was too tight for him; it accentuated his monster cock even more. He was especially proud his was the biggest cock on the team, and he flaunted it mercilessly. The other jocks shifted on their feet restlessly, I could feel they wanted me, badly, but I used my telepathy to make sure they took no action just now; I’d get to them later. I smiled, and lay a hand on his bulging bicep, feeling the curvature, admiring the power and thickness of the muscle. Brad’s cock leapt again, his breath quickened, and he looked like he was about to cum right then and there. I leaned in close against his body, looking at its thickness, admiring the buff, juicy muscle; his pecs were just so nice, two full, round domes of muscle. His thick cock had started to ooze precum, and the scent was difficult to resist, I wanted to feed right then and there, but I steeled myself. I placed my hand on his chest, and stroked downward, enjoying the feeling of his smooth skin, before reaching his soft bellybutton. His little paunch, but now that I see it up closer, in my scrutiny I realise it’s more like a baby gut than anything else. I push into the soft warmness of it with my index finger, and instantly Brad shot his thick jock load. His thick muscular body wracked with the spasms of his orgasm, and his thick creamy cum soaked onto his belly and into his underwear, till they were both dripping with jizz. His heavy body leans on me for support as the thrusting of his hips made him weak at the knees as he shot wad after wad of cum. Finally, after what seemed an eternity of bliss to Brad, his orgasm let up, and he staggered, struggling to lift his heavy body to his own two feet. He blushed as he realised what had just happened, the still-hot cum dripping from his underwear and belly. The other jocks were silent, my power still influencing their minds to remain inactive, both my scent, and my telepathy. My left hand is covered with his cum, I raise it to my mouth, and lick slowly, savouring the delectable taste, but the meal is hollow. It is not the cum of jocks that truly will sate my hunger. He shudders, at the sight of my tongue slipping across my fingers, scooping up his thick jock jizz, obviously imagining my tongue at work doing other things. My smile is sanguine as I begin to act out the next part of my plan. “Brad, why don’t you come with me, and I can take you out to lunch?” I say with a winning smile. “What do you say?” I conclude. Brad’s face light’s up like the morning sky. “Yeah…sure…totally!” Brad said, shaking with excitement, his cock giving another stretch of his briefs, desperate for freedom. His slight gut jiggling, I say: “How about you get cleaned up, I’ll take you outside, to the college parking lot? We can get in my car, and I’ll drive you.” I say, now not bothering to hide the seductive tone in my voice. I reach out my right hand and fondle his bull balls through his underwear, admiring their great weight. “Oh god, I’ll be right there!” said Brad, flinging off his soaked underwear, letting his enormous cock flop free. The scale of the thing was truly enormous, his 14 inch cock was too thick for even his own meaty paws to get around, and his balls were each as big as a softball. The other jocks were eyeing Brad enviously I noticed, not just for the fact he was gaining my attention, but I think he must have flaunted that dick every chance he got. Rapidly Brad put on another too-tight pair of briefs, although this one quite dry. Quickly Brad followed with the rest of his clothes, but this time wearing a tight blue tee-shirt rather than his jersey, which he threw into his football locker, Brad came up next to me. Smiling briskly, he wrapped one thick, muscular arm around my shoulder, as his cock throbbed and stretched through his tight jeans. “Let’s go.” I say with a smile, as I wrap my arm around his slightly pudgy waist, and lead him out the change room door, while the other jocks kneaded their own thick cocks through their boxers, looking at my retreating form forlornly. I gave them a wink, and mouth “I’ll be back later”; leaving with my meal safely in tow. Giving Brad a quick squeeze, we departed. As we walked down the hallways leading toward the front of the building, I gently knead and massage Brad’s body, all the muscles and fat, and he relaxed in my embrace. My pheromones also help as well, drawing this hapless hunk deeper under my spell. The longer he’s around me, the more his mind is affected, and soon he’ll be unable to resist me at all. I’m sure he could hardly think straight as I thrust open the door to the building into the bright sun on a beautiful cloudless day. I lead him out across the parking lot to my car, heading into the back forty. The silver paint of my gleaming Prius shines in the midmorning sunlight, and I opened the car door for my prize, and helped him into the car, for by now his motor skills are beginning to be impaired, as any drunk would. I think to myself with a smile: “Except he’s now drunk with my presence rather than alcohol, the hapless stud.” I get in myself, in the driver’s seat and close the door, locking the car. I can see his massive meat throb in his jeans, and I grasp his upper arm, squeezing that thick bicep of his. His panting, laboured breathing is cut off as I draw him into a passionate kiss. I can feel a slight blip in his thoughts that this is wrong, that he’s not homosexual, but it is swiftly crushed into oblivion under the tsunami of pleasure my scent and proximity invoke. He leans into me, now, and we kiss long and hard, his soft lips against mine, and my blood runs hot as my own cock gets even harder. All too soon, I pull away, grinning like a madman. “How about that lunch, Brad?” I say, as I start the car and start driving. Quickly turning out of the parking lot and begin to drive down the main road before quickly following the back road. We drive for about half and hour, all the while Brad’s huge chest heaving with his heavy breathing, as he kneads his titanic dick through his tight jeans. We make it to my house, in this part of the country at least; the open, modern design shining in boxy chrome, glass, and white concrete. “This is your house?” asked Brad breathlessly. Quite astute for his horny state, I think to myself. “Yep, it’s all mine, inheritance, billions of dollars. Come inside, I’ll give you a time to remember.” I say, slyly. I squeeze his cock through his jeans, and get out of the car, and walk over to the passenger door and help my stud out of my car; leading my prey into the lion’s den, as it were. I watch his tight shirt, his muscles and slight pudge stretching the fabric, and I’m even starting to become impatient, my heart beating faster, anticipating what is to come. “Wow, you must be rich!” exclaims Brad, as he peruses the plush interior. Expensive paintings and furniture adorned the walls and floors, respectively, with an overall modern style. I lean over as we enter the spacious modern kitchen and give Brad’s slight love handle a squeeze. “You bet. You look a little decadent as well, Brad.” I say with a wink. Brad blushed profusely, trying to pull down his tight shirt which was riding up his gut slightly. “Uh, yeah I’m totally planning on hitting the gym and losing it!” he said, fumbling, his blush getting even redder as he began to look uncomfortable. “That’s not a problem, Brad; I like them with a bit of meat.” I said, with emphasis. My touch has Brad breathing like a marathon runner again, and his thick cock is straining to be free of its denim prison. “You know, we may as well forget about lunch, Brad. We know what we both want, don’t we?” I say, smiling, leaning even closer, only a kiss distance away. “I’m n-not que-…” Brad begins, but I cut him off with another kiss, my pheromones flooding his system now, dissolving even the faintest hint of resistance. I could feel the chemical consume his conscious resistance like a school of ravenous piranha. I was all Brad wanted now, nothing mattered except me. Breaking away from his muscular embrace, I pulled Brad’s tight shirt over his head, and admired the soft muscularity of his chest, and the slight treasure trail curving down his paunch. Soon I’m all over him, kissing his pecs, his arms, all over his chest, and working my way down his body, feeling the warm flesh with my lips. The kisses of course were fucking hot, but that wasn’t the only reason why. Each kiss was an injection of my venom, which was now coursing through Brad’s body, preparing it for my feeding on his masculinity, on the totality of his testosterone reserves. He didn’t notice, as I did, that his bull balls were swelling in the fabric of his jeans even more now, and the weakness of his muscles as already they began to liquefy and flow to his balls. As I whipped the belt away and undid his jeans, Brad began to moan: “Do it, John, I want you, do it…” And I was happy to oblige. His already large package had swelled even more ridiculously with the venom, and his briefs were starting to tear from their sheer size and weight. I pulled his briefs swiftly down, but I didn’t remove his pants yet, I loved the way the clothes hung on these hapless jocks after I was done feeding on them. Grasping his now 16 inch cock, feeling it pulse in my grip in time with Brad’s heartbeat. His log of a dick oozing precum, I wrap my lips around its warm, sensuous surface. Pushing it as deep into my mouth as it could go, I start to suck and slurp Brad’s monster dick. “Oh…god…fuck…FUCK!” muttered and moaned, and even occasionally shouted, Brad, as all my pheromones and venom coursed through his body, producing lust and sexual desire unlike any he had before experienced, and wouldn’t wear off till I had drained him for every last drop. The thick, creamy precum was already sliding down my throat as I sucked his thick dick even harder, drawing my tongue up and down the thick shaft, and sometimes making swallowing motions with it in my throat. The warm pulsing cock was one of the best I had ever sucked, and I especially appreciated its size, and I was rock hard knowing what was going to start happening next. I knew that Brad wasn’t going to last long after all the things I was doing to his cock. Finally, he shot his first load, his thick cock convulsing with each wad of cum shot, and he leaned against the kitchen counter for support, as he suddenly felt much weaker, but much hornier than ever. As the hot cum belted down my throat, Brad began to change, slowly, gradually, at first. I watched as his huge pecs started to deflate, like two spherical balloons with the air let out of them. His massive biceps deflated, loosing inch after inch as he cummed his own muscles away, shrinking and collapsing. His thick thighs and calves started loosing their tree trunk look, shrinking and losing muscularity and strength. Most noticeably of all, inch after inch of height was being lost by my manly stud, as his system was drained of testosterone and masculinity. His once massive chest was surely, steadily losing size and thickness, his whole body shrinking down like he was an inflatable with a sizeable leak. Not exempted was his godly cock, which was now also steadily shrinking, as I could fit more and more of its diminishing length and thickness in my mouth, I sucked even harder, as I felt my hunger beginning to lose its edge. “John, I…feel…funny…” Brad gasped, but he didn’t try to pull away, not that he would have succeeded anyway. His mighty cock, 16 full thick inches when we started was now diminished to only 9, even shorter than when it was before the venom was given. I watched with complete satisfaction as his softball balls contract with each blast of hot cum, but failing to expand to their previous volume, soon they were diminished to tennis ball size. His package was still manly, but he was definitely nowhere near the biggest guy on the team, in both senses of the word. His frame was not severely diminished; he was no longer the man he once was. I on the other hand, my body finally nourished after so long a fast, was growing. I was getting taller and my clothes tighter as my flat chest expanded, new muscles coursing into my arms and legs as they thicken and strengthen. My pecs now domed outward, and my arms are now shredding my shirtsleeves. My but and thighs shredded my jeans, and soon I was quite naked, minus a very tight pair of briefs. Finally, after Brad is done on his high, panting while leaning back on the counter. I stand up and we now face eye to eye. He still retained quite a build, but nothing like the godly one he had before. “Holy shit, what did you do to me John!” screamed Brad, now clearly panicking, backing away from me slowly. “I had my first course, Brad. Don’t worry; you still look like you have a second one in you.” I said, grinning sinisterly. Brad at once leapt for the door, but I grabbed him and tossed him like a rag doll onto the couch in the adjoining living room. Of course, I looked bigger and more muscular, my shredded clothes were absolute testament to that, but I’m always much stronger than any normal human being anyway, no matter my build. Leaping onto him I grab his smaller but still pretty thick cock, still hard and quivering, ready to be milked again. I latched onto it like a lamprey eel, and began to suck again, holding down his struggling body with one hand. I once again played up and down the surface of his cock with expertise, bringing him closer to the doomed orgasm. “God no! Please, stop this, let me go, John! I don’t want to be a weakling! I’m made to be a muscle stud!” Brad begged, pleaded and even cursed and screamed, with many variations and permutations. But I would not relent, I wanted it, needed it. I could feel him try to deny the coming orgasm, but my venom was just too potent an aphrodisiac to be denied. “NOOOOO!!!” screamed Brad, as he blasted his jockdom-fatal load. He began collapsing again as his hot, thick jock cum streamed down my throat, and I missed not a single drop. His average jock physique quickly became just average, as his pecs and biceps melted away. And not even a hint of traps above his shoulders, and his legs shrivelled. He had lost over a foot in height now, and his cock was shrinking even in my mouth, loosing inch after inch becoming less of a man-cock and more a boycock. Soon, his average physique transformed into the scrawny, as his muscle rapidly diminished to almost nothing, but his fat was still the same, however. Without the balancing effect of his muscles, now he was just a short flabby weakling. I could feel his now 6 inch cock was the last to complete its change, as it continued to shrink in my mouth, and his balls pull up. While his body was shrinking, mine was expanding, my chest grew ever more voluminous and my arms were like howitzers! My own body, devoid of fat, was tight and ripped, my abs deeply chiselled along my abdomen. My own cock, once a mere 6 inches, was now the 16 inch monster Brad once possessed, and my balls feeling engorged and enormous, the unaccustomed weight turning me on like nothing else. I was a beast, now. I had Brad’s build, but without the fat. My muscle now bulging, rippling and heaving, as I flexed for the frightened little rabbit that was all that was left of a once mighty jock. “So, Brad, how do you like me now?” I asked, in my deeper more manly voice, pulling a most muscular at him. He made a ghastly little strangled noise in his throat, too frightened to speak, but his hard 1 inch cock and quivering peanut balls told me all I needed to know. Grasping his shoulders, and marvelling at his now tiny frame was now in comparison to mine, I rammed my log of a cock deep as it would go into his throat. Brad struggled vainly against me, as I made him deepthroat my now enormous cock, enjoying the tightness of his throat, and now only 5 foot 4 inch body. As we fucked, his struggling ceased as he surrendered to our sex, and his little dick and balls shot a little dribble of cum of their own as I continued to screw him. Finally the tightness was just too much, and I couldn’t hold it. “FUCK!” I shouted, as I blasted thick ribbons of heavy cum into him, he squirmed a little again, but he ceased as his body rapidly swelled with new fat as my bull balls unloaded an endless current of cum into his body, his flabby frame swelling with each shot. I just kept cumming and cumming, Brad’s flabby body expanding in all directions, now no hint of his former self remained. Finally spent, I pull out of him and I collapse to the floor with a heavy thud, wheeling with the orgasm of our intense fuck. Resting for a few minutes, I got up and surveyed the gently jiggling tub of lard I’ve created out of a once muscular, thick football jock. His swollen formed rested on the sleek couch, a perfect juxtaposition if there ever was one. If I had to guess, Brad was about 300 lbs of pure flab, quite a lot for his frame. I smiled, and dressed in Brad’s old clothes, and quickly going to my room and fishing out some spare huge ones I had for whenever I was done feeding. Epilogue: After clothing Brad’s unconscious form and myself too, and carrying him effortlessly to my car, I drove Brad home to his dorm in silence, for he wouldn’t wake for a few more hours still. He wouldn’t remember what had happened, and I’d use my powers to make sure no one else would notice anything unusual either. I flexed my newly stolen muscle through my stolen shirt, admiring my pecs. I rub my hands along my abs, and begin to formulate the next item I think I should have on my grocery list. Heavy rain beat down onto the back road as I drove the sound mixing with the gentle noise of the Prius’s engine. I watch the wet autumn country road pass by, ochre red leaves swirling in the storm. “So it begins…”
  3. Here is a muscle suit I made. Any feedback or comments please tell me. Also message me for my skype if you wanna see it in video chat
  4. Magic: The Growthering

    Hey everyone! I was inspired to write a short one-off story (as opposed to my usual multi-chapter epics) and I was able to write this all in one go today! I hope you enjoy. Joe goes to his local game store to do a Magic: The Gathering draft and plays against a burly young jock whose spells have an effect on more than just the battlefield... I went to my local game store to do a Magic: The Gathering draft, like I do almost every week. I paid for my entry fee and went to sit down, chatting with the other store regulars about what cards we thought are underrated and what archetypes were good to draft. The bell on the door to the store jingled and suddenly I could smell a sharp, heady aroma of nerd jock BO. I crinkled my nose but a shiver of pleasure went up my spine as well; I had always had a weakness for that musky masculine smell. I looked over to see where it was coming from and saw a guy walking in I had never seen before. He was young, probably fresh out of college, and was built like a football lineman. He was tall, over 6’ for sure, and beefy; wide shoulders, barrel chest, big arms, round soft-looking belly, and thick legs. He had a scraggly, bright red beard and mustache, round, ruddy cheeks, pale skin, and piercing blue eyes. His hair was long and stringy, and he wore a hoodie, jeans, and big heavy-looking leather boots. I guessed he was probably 280lb or so. He looked like the kind of guy who would be great to cuddle with, but maybe only after you fed him and got fucked by him. I got the sense he was usually pegged as a jock football bro because of how he looked but deep down was a serious MTG nerd. He was solid-looking, like he still lifted but also looked like he had let himself go a little since the football season had ended last fall. He sauntered in, the smell of his musk growing more pungent as he walked by me. He smelled like he had just come from the gym but also like he hadn’t left his mom’s basement to shower in a few days: sour, sharp, tangy, and fresh all at the same time. I couldn’t help but huff it in even though it was so powerful it was hard to breath. He paid for his draft and soon enough we got started. The store manager running the draft called out our seats and sure enough I was next to the big ginger. He sat down next to me, a wave of his BO wafting over me. “Hey, I haven’t seen you here before, I’m Joe,” I said. The big guy slumped his backpack down and turned to me, his icy blue eyes looking me over. “Mark, but just call me Red,” he said with a grin. “Red, huh?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s quite a nickname,” I continued, “though I suppose it works for you.” “Heh, yeah,” he said and ran a hand through his straggly ginger beard. It looked like hadn’t trimmed or groomed it in months. “My football buddies gave it to me. I played football up until I graduated last year,” he explained, spreading his shoulders wide. “Just D3 but I liked being able to hit stuff. I’ve had that nickname since freshman year.” “Yeah I thought so, you’re a pretty big guy. You just come from the gym?” I asked, his BO surrounding me like a miasma. “Yeah actually. I still love lifting. Guess I smell pretty strong, huh?” he asked. “It’s kind of noticeable, yeah,” I admitted. “Heh, well people can just deal with it,” he said and lifted his arm up a bit and sniffed for effect. “I kind of like it actually.” I almost admitted that I did too, but decided that would be weird. “Well alright Red, I’m Joe. Pass me some good cards, ok?” I said. “For sure, bud,” he said as we all got our packs. “Hope you open some good stuff,” and we all opened our packs to start drafting. The draft went fine for me, but I found it hard to concentrate with this huge, sexy, smelly fucker next to me. It was impossible to ignore his presence because his BO stink was always in my nostrils, and he would grunt or bump against me every so often when he got a good card. I tried not to steal glances but couldn’t help myself a few times. He was just my type: big, bearded, ginger, geeky, and sweaty. When the draft ended, my deck wasn’t the best because I hadn’t been focusing as much as I should have been. I looked to my right and Red had drafted a green/red deck with some insane bombs. My eyes boggled as I looked at the size of his creatures, especially the big ones at the top of his curve, and backed up by good pump spells. “Jeez you really went big, huh?” I said to him, leaning a bit closer. “Yeah I like playing with big, beefy creatures… kind of like me, right?” he said with a grin and started putting his deck together. “Well the red matches your beard, so I guess that fits,” I said. He chuckled and rose up to get lands, towering over me for a moment, and I tried to focus on building a deck of my own. A few minutes later pairings went up and I went to go play against my first round opponent. Red sat a bit away from me, with his back to me. The chair looked too small for his wide shoulders and beefy ass. I noticed others around me crinkling their noses and keeping their distance from the big jock, but they didn’t say anything. A smelly guy at a local game store wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I did well during my first game, drawing well and beating my opponent’s cruddy deck easily. During the game I kept looking over at Red. I could hear his deep voice from across the room, and his shoulders and traps really looked big from behind. After his first game he stood up to take his hoodie off – it was getting pretty warm in the store with all these guys playing Magic – revealing that he was wearing just a tank top underneath. His BO stink intensified now that his pits were exposed, and I got a better look at the size of his shoulders and back. He was bigger than I thought, more muscular, with round bulky delts and mountainous traps. I picked up my stuff and went to a quiet corner of the store to zone out looking at my phone for a bit to kill time between rounds. Before I knew it 20 minutes had passed and they were calling time in the round. I went back over to the play area and stopped in my tracks when I saw Red rising up out of his chair. Red looked noticeably bigger than he did just 20 minutes ago. He stood up, and up, clearly several inches taller than he was before, looking at least 6’6” if not bigger. He was thicker all over, not just because he was taller but proportionally as well; his shoulders were bulkier and wider, his huge pecs made his tank top stretch, and a sliver of red fur-covered belly peeked out from the bottom. His arms were massive and much more muscular than before, biceps bulging with mounds of muscle that hadn’t been there before. His jeans strained to contain his big, muscular quads, and a prominent bulge tented the denim. His beard looked redder and thicker, and the power of his BO stink had increased. “Red, uh, did you win your match?” I asked tentatively. Everyone else around eyed him strangely and gave him plenty of space, aware that he had apparently grown. He had to be at least 400lbs of beefy muscle now. His big shoulders had sprouted some copper-colored hair. “Sure did! It was a close one but Giant Growth won it in the end for me,” he boomed, his voice louder and deeper than before. “G-giant growth, huh?” I stammered. He seemed totally unaware of the irony. “Yup, I got lots of combat tricks to make my guys grow bigger. Always love it when my stuff is just bigger than everything the opponent has, that way I can bully him around just like I used to in football,” he said, raising a beefy arm to scratch his scraggly beard. His bicep bulged up obscenely, the red pores of his huge arm standing out as he flexed. “Pairings for round 2 are up!” the store manager yelled, and I looked up to the screen to see who I was playing next. I found my name and then looked over to see who I was playing. It said, “Mark H.” I felt the floorboards vibrate a bit and a shadow fell over me, and smelled a wave of Red’s jock/geek funk. “Looks like we’re playing each other this round, little guy,” Red rumbled from behind me. I turned around and was eye-level with his chest. His tank top was a worn, faded high school wrestling tournament one, with a hyper muscular bear mascot on the front and a list of names of participants on the back. He was stained yellow under the pecs and pits from years of jock sweat. I looked up, my mouth falling open a bit, and Red looked down at me with a smirk. “Y-yeah man, uh, where do you want to, um, sit?” I said, flummoxed and freaked out for a variety of reasons. We found a place to play and I set about getting ready. He sat down heavily, the little wooden chair creaking ominously under his bulk. “So how long have been you playing Magic?” I said, trying to make small talk to be less nervous. “Since I was 12, so like 10 years now,” he said as he started shuffling his deck. His huge, calloused hands made the cards look smaller than usual, and I gulped. It was starting to feel really warm in here. “C-cool. So, you said you like red and green?” I asked as I finished shuffling and we cut each others’ decks. “Yeah man, ever since I was young I loved all the huge, powerful creatures in those colors. Aggressive, strong, big, all the qualities I wanted for myself. Sometimes when I play football I would think about having trample or first strike and just running over my opponent, hehe,” he said as he won the die roll and drew seven. I couldn’t help but get chubbed up as this massive brute told me all this. “Heh that’s awesome, man. Well it seemed to work because you’re huge! Uh, just how big are you anyway?” I dared to ask as I played a land and passed the turn. “6’7” and 425lb or so, though that fluctuates a lot depending on what I’m eating. Always trying to grow bigger,” he rumbled and then played a creature. “B-but you weren’t that big earlier…no way,” I said as played a creature of my own, though smaller than his, and passed. “Well yeah even a year or two ago I was still in the 300s but I just keep growing,” he said as he attacked with his 2/2. “No I meant, when you got here… never mind,” I said, confused – there was no way he was he over 300lbs when I first saw him, much less 400lb. I decided to block his creature as it seemed like a good trade. He tapped his lands and played Boon of Strength, giving his creature two +1/+1 counters and making it bigger. As he played the spell I could see Red visibly bulk up bigger, like he suddenly got a nice gym pump. His traps and shoulders rose up thicker and rounder, his forearms swelled and new veins appeared, and his chest expanded with muscle. Like he had gotten a… well, a boon of strength. “Ha! Gotcha,” he said and my little 2/1 died in to his creature, now a 4/4. “Uh, what just...happened,” I trailed off as I untapped my lands. “Heh, told you my deck had a lot of pump spelled in it,” Red said and stretched in his seat. His massive arms – had to be over 22 inches now – flexed as he stretched, and his tank top rode up until I could see his belly button, his fat belly covered in copper-colored fur. His sweaty pits filled the room with musk, and the entire store soon stank like a football jock’s dorm room. “Yeah, but, you… you look… I mean, did you just grow?” I asked, hardly believing the words coming out of my mouth. “Huh? Uh, my creature did, but I’ve always been this big. Guess this tank is getting a little tight, I’ve been making lots of gains lately,” he rumbled. I nodded, confused, and played a creature and passed the turn. He had no idea what was happening. Red played another bigger creature, and again I could see him grow slightly. He attacked, hit me for 4, and I could already tell I was going to lose this game. A few turns later, with a 4/4, a 5/6, and a 7/7 on the board, and with Red looking close to seven feet tall and pushing 600lbs, he won game one. I looked him over as he shuffled for game two. His red, round cheeks were flushed and his blue eyes were hyponotizing. His beard had grown thicker and longer with him and almost reached down to his pecs, which rose up now like a shelf and stood out from his flimsy tank top. His arms were absurd, bigger around than his head and throbbing with beefy muscle, a round, solid bicep peak erupting from the meat of his upper arm as he shuffled. “S-so you graduated?” I asked, trying to take my mind off of the fact my opponent was growing into the biggest man on earth right in front of me. “Yeah, got an exercise science degree. I want to join a coaching staff or maybe be a personal trainer as a backup option,” he said. “Always loved lifting, even as a kid,” he boomed and lifted up his huge right arm and flexed. Mountains of muscle sprang up on his arm and shoulder, and my mouth dropped open. I’d never seen such huge muscle. The red armpit hair was matted down with slick sweat and a wave of his BO hit me like a punch in the face. “W-wow yeah it really shows. Well that’s cool. You must have been one of the biggest guys on your team?” I probed. “Oh yeah, always been the biggest guy everywhere. I got offers from D1 schools but wanted to stay local. At my size I could do pretty much whatever I want,” he said and my mind took that in ten different ways and my boner swelled harder. I actually won game two because he got mana screwed, unable to play anything except a two-drop creature, which obviously frustrated him. His red cheeks grew redder and I could see, and smell, more sweat erupting on his forehead, shoulders, and chest, dampening his shirt. Game three started pretty evenly, with both of us playing fairly defensive creatures and building our board state. His hulking frame intimidated me across the table, and he slowly but interminably swelled up bigger every time he played a creature or cast a pump spell. I was just barely holding on when he played Growth Spurt, giving all his creatures +1/+1 counters. Red exploded with more size, muscle packing on to his bulky football jock frame and stretching wider and thicker. His chair groaned and cracked under his ballooning weight. His torso was so big it looked like he was wearing football pads. “Oh yeah, a growth spurt just in time!” he rumbled and attacked. I blocked what I could but took a lot of damage. It wasn’t looking good for me. “What are you gonna do, little guy? The beef squad just keeps growing bigger!” he taunted, tensing his pecs and traps at me. I just grumbled and passed the turn. His next turn he tapped all of his mana. “Here comes the big guy!” Red boomed and laid down Hulking Brute, an 8/8 creature with trample. The art of the card showed a massive, muscular, red-bearded giant stomping a house with a huge foot and smashing a hammer into the ground. I looked up just in time to see Red explode with size, his entire body visibly swelling up taller, broader, and more muscular. He took a deep breath and I could hear his tendons popping and stretching to accommodate his new, bigger size. “Oh yeah!” Red bragged, lifting up his arms in triumph, unleashing a new wave of BO stink, and attacked again. I was barely alive and drew another creature to keep me alive for another turn. If I could draw my sweeper I could probably come back, but it was a big if. On his next turn, he drew his card, smirked, and then tapped all his mana. “BOOM!” he yelled and played Unstoppable Growth, a mass-pump spell that gave all his creatures +4/+4 and trample and then attacked with everything. As soon as the card left his hand, Red exploded with size, muscle and fat swelling his entire body bigger and taller. The table shifted towards me as his ball belly pushed it back, and the chair cracked and collapsed under his huge weight. He fell with a heavy “OOF”. Muscles erupted on every inch of his burly body, the football jock going from pro strongman size to borderline giant in just a few seconds. His pale skin was ruddy with exertion and slick with sweat, his beard thicker and longer, copper colored hair sprouting on his back and shoulders and arms. Red laughed as he sat on the floor. He shifted his massive weight, clomped a heavy boot onto the ground, and rose up to his full height. He stood up, taller and taller until he towered over the entire store, his head scraping against the 8 foot ceiling. He breathed deeply, his body filling out with the last moments of growth, and he laughed. He was enormous, like the big brother of the the biggest strongman or powerlifter or football player alive, fat and powerful, muscular and swollen, ruddy and sweaty and huge. His stench intensified as he lifted up his arms until his fists bumped into the ceiling and then he brought his fists together and flexed. “HAHA oh yeah, the goon squad wins! Like a whole offensive line pancake blocking your ass!” he boomed down at me, eyes wide as he let his jock excitement get the better of him. I flinched but couldn’t take my eyes off the massive giant college football jock towering over me. At this point everyone else in the store noticed the hulking brute, clearly bigger than anyone they’d ever seen before. People stared and yelled, pointing and cursing at the size of the ginger giant. Red’s beard bloomed red and thick, reaching down and mixing with his chest hair, his mustache curling broadly into his cheeks, his flowing hair falling down to his shoulders like a Viking god. “Looks like I’m 2-0 and going to the finals,” Red boomed as he cleaned up his cards. Each one looked like a bizarre miniature Magic card in his huge hands. “Can’t wait to smash the next guy. Look at how BIG my creatures got at the end!” he said and swelled his chest up and out. “Almost as big as ME!” he said with a smirk and palmed his enormous gut and jiggled it up and down. “Huhhh, um, whaaa…” I stammered, unable to process the fact my opponent had just grown over 2 feet tall and god knows how much heavier in the last half an hour while playing Magic: The Gathering. “Good games though, squirt, you took me to three, that’s pretty good for a little guy,” he rumbled and extended a hand. I instinctively put mine out and Red wrapped his massive paw around my diminutive digits. His hand engulfed mine up to my wrist and he squeezed hard, the power just in his fingers overwhelming, and he shook me hard. “Bet you never lost to a Magic player this size, huh?” he taunted. “Pairings for round 3 are up!” the manager called, and Red mercifully waddled off to his last match. I sat down for my match, but at this point the whole store’s attention was on Red’s freak show. The brute sat down on the ground to face his opponent; he was tall enough at this point it wasn’t an issue. His round three opponent was obviously terrified and nervous; Red was probably two and a half feet taller and 5 times his weight. “Hey, I’m Red,” he boomed. “Should we roll dice to see who goes first?” he said and swelled out his chest and flexed his traps and shoulders. “N-no no, go ahead, y-you can just go first,” his opponent quavered, and Red just grinned, his big white teeth standing out in the middle of his red beard. “Good, I was hoping you’d see things my way,” the brute said and he shuffled his tiny cards. Red was merciless in his round three match. Every card seemed to be just the one he needed, and just the one to make him grow and grow and grow. He played bigger creatures, pump spells, and massive finishers to punish his opponent, all the while bulking up bigger and heavier and taller in spurts every time he played a card. He would grunt and growl when he grew now, apparently loving the feeling of his body expanding with more and more size, but continued to be unaware that it was unusual. He won game one easily, his huge ass spreading wider and taking up more space, his tank top growing with his height but not with his increasingly wider, thicker, and more muscular proportions; soon it only covered down to the top of massive round gut and his jeans had torn up to his thighs. The beast sweated profusely as he grew and grew, and his jock BO became so powerful that some people started to leave. I huffed it in, standing as close to Red as I could to soak in his funk and watch him swell bigger. He played another +1/+1 counter spell and I got bold, reaching out and touching his huge shoulder to FEEL it growing under my touch. He turned and looked at me and grinned. “Pretty good play, right?” he rumbled, his voice a subwoofer bass that rattled my chest. “Yeah big guy, keep growing your creatures more, it’s great,” I said breathlessly, caught up in the moment. “Ok ready for this?” Red said and laid down his last card. It was a mythic rare, one I had never seen before, a 12/12 creature called Evergrowth Titan. It was the biggest creature I’d ever seen, had trample, haste, and vigilance, and every turn it got bigger and bigger. Red played it and grew, his head thumping against the ceiling in an instant even though he was still sitting, his body swelling wider so fast it made me stumble over. He breathed in deep and then groaned as he exhaled, his chest as wide and thick as three or four people combined, his gut pushing the table back until it pinned his opponent against the wall. The little guy whimpered and conceded. “YEAH WOO HOO I WON!” Red boomed and raised his arms, his BO musk nearly knocking me over again. He grew even more as he sat there celebrating, the aftereffects of the spell still causing his body to pump up bigger and bigger. He scooted around and faced the counter of the store. “I’ll take my packs now,” he rumbled and stuck out his huge hand, which was as big as a cast iron skillet. “Uh, s-sure big guy,” the manager said and handed him his six packs for winning the draft. Red started opening then and the manager waved me over. “Wow, I guess he got the special promo packs that WOTC gave out. The advertising was no joke… I didn’t think they’d have ACTUAL wishing magic in them. Guess he really wanted to be bigger, huh?” he whispered to me, and my eyes grew wide. I looked back at the overgrown hulk ripping open packs, his tank top more like a crop top now and his jeans looking like Daisy Dukes. I slowly realized what had happened. “Yup, lots of +1/+1 counters on that big guy…” the manager said. I packed up my stuff and I left the store without saying anything to Red. I stood in the parking lot for a minute, knowing I should just leave but I couldn’t help but wait to see the big ginger in his full glory. Sure enough, a couple mintues later I heard crunching of walls and the scream of twisting metal and saw Red burst out of the entrance, partially destroying the small 7’ entrance with his hulking, giant frame. He was easily twice my height, and had thick, bulging, bulky muscle hanging off every inch of his body. He saw me and grinned and then lumbered over, his gut jiggling as he waddled, muscles twitching with unspeakable power with every step. “Hey,” Red boomed as he loomed over me. I could see the huge bulge in what was left of his jeans throb and shift as he looked me over. “Wanna come back to my place and keep playing? There’s a BIG creature I want to show you that I think you’ll like…” he intoned and reached down to adjust his massive cock, which was obviously swelling bigger. “I, uh, oh wow, uh—oof!” I breathed as I was suddenly lifted up by his massive hands. Red picked me up like a child and threw me over his enormous shoulders and started waddling back to his apartment. “I saw how you looked at me… you like big guys, right?” he said, his deep voice shaking my chest. “Yeah, I know you do! Well there’s NOBODY bigger than me!” He rumbled. “Ahhh, oh man,” I breathed. I couldn’t believe this was happening! “Mmm hmm, you better get ready for some trample damage because I’m gonna PLOW right through you!” Red boomed as he carried me off, my cock throbbing against his shoulder.
  5. SYNERGY - Part I

    Synergy Sometimes you just know. It feels so deep and integral that is seems to come from the deepest part of you. You can feel it in your bones, radiating out to the skin. It is a truth that cannot be explained away. I felt this the first time I saw Ian. I was too young to know what it was at the time, but I knew he was special to me. I knew that he held in his equally small hands the key to happiness—or what I believed happiness to be at the time. Everyone loved Ian. He was handsome and athletic and social. He was friendly and kind. One night, when we were in fifth grade, I spend the night at Ian’s house. He hadn’t asked me to spend the night before, but we had become better friends. I remember walking downstairs to the basement and getting sleeping bags out, lying next to him, feeling his warmth just inches away. I don’t know why I did it, but I looked over to him in the dark. “Hey Ian…We should pretend that I am Sarah. You like Sarah, right?” “What do you mean, ‘pretend you are Sarah?’ That’s silly, Brad.” “I mean, I can lay on top of you and we can kiss. You can practice on me. You want to kiss her. You said so earlier.” “OK, but we can’t tell anyone about it.” That was the first time I knew that something was “wrong” about the way I felt. I crawled on top of Ian’s body, opened my mouth, and kissed him deeply, albeit clumsily. He was my first kiss. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I felt so attached to him. We never spoke of that moment the next day, or the day after, or the day after that. We continued to become closer and closer. He was everything to me, even at that age. I felt something deep and powerful inside my young mind and body. Ian did something for me that no one else had ever done…He made me feel beautiful and handsome. He made me feel popular. I was still the new kid but when Ian and I started hanging out, everyone accepted me. He made me feel wanted. He was amazing, even at that age. Weeks later, my parents sat us down for a family meeting. We moved around a lot when I was young. From what I had heard during closed-door phone calls, my dad was getting a job, hours away from Spokane where we lived at the time. I wasn’t sure at that moment, but when my parent’s called a family meeting, I knew it was time to move again. I was heartbroken. Not only because I now had some great friends, but because I couldn’t imagine leaving Ian. We played soccer together. We rode our bikes around the neighborhood together. We went swimming together. He was all I thought about and everything I wanted. I couldn’t bear to think about moving away from him. He was my first kiss. He was also my first heartbreak, although looking back, I don’t think that he knew it. He didn’t have the awareness that I did at that age. He didn’t know how I felt, not really. The day we moved, I remember grey skies and a light rain. The U-Haul truck waited in the driveway. Ian had promised me he would come and say goodbye but we were ready to leave and he hadn’t come to the house yet. I felt like my heart would break right there in the driveway. I would never see him again. Something inside of me cried out for him. I felt like I was leaving a part of myself behind—God, if I could only just say goodbye. The grass was still brown from a cold winter with plenty of snow. Spring’s warmth had not touched down yet and from the grey sky, it would remain that way for a while. I remember looking at the silent, sleeping, brown-matted grass and thinking that it looked like how I felt—sickly, on the brink of life, hungry for a better day, desiring of warmth, cognizant of a great change—afraid. I tried to postpone our departure. I said I had to use the restroom. I said I needed to spend a minute in my room. I wanted to walk around the backyard again—the backyard where Ian and I had spent so many hours talking and playing—and so many nights sleeping under the stars in our sleeping bags. I loved him and I couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t see him again. As my mom locked the front door to the split-entry house and we walked outside toward my waiting father and the truck full of our belongings, I saw a quick flash of shadow coming around the corner of the street. It was Ian. His legs were pumping on the peddles of his BMX bike and he was sweating and breathless—I could tell—and that was saying something. He was such a great athlete, even at that age. He must have been riding as fast as he could for the several blocks that separated our houses. I breathed a sigh of relief—and then sorrow crashed into me. Suddenly, I didn’t know if it was the best thing for him to have come. It would only make things harder. “Brad, here comes Ian! I know you wanted to say goodbye to him. I need to go talk to your dad but I’ll be in the car in a minute. We need to leave in a couple of minutes, so say goodbye. Do you want to ride with your father or do you want to come behind in the car with me?” I couldn’t even think about what my mom was saying. Did I want to ride in the truck or the car? I didn’t care. Only Ian mattered. When I saw him lay his bike down on the grass and walk quickly toward me, I could only think of him. My mom went to talk to my dad. Ian grabbed my hand and led me around to the back of the truck. “Sorry. I was grocery shopping with my mom and we were late. I tried to make her get home faster.” He was still out of breath. He wore the scent of his home. I could smell it. It smelled like Ian. I can still remember that smell—like summery detergent, fabric softener, and something spicy…like cloves and baked apples. His smell was warm and clean. Writing this down, I can still smell it years later. He leaned over to me quickly and gave me a kiss on the lips. I knew he was taking a risk…he had told me months ago that we were never supposed to talk about that night…so in that moment, I knew he felt something for me as well. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t respond for a moment. “I’ll miss you, Ian.” A tear edged its way out of the corner of my eye and slowly fell down my cheek. “Don’t cry. I’ll always be with you. I promise.” Somehow, I knew he was telling the truth. I felt something inside of me leap out for him, but the emotion that the empty space was replaced by was loneliness and sadness. He was right in front of me, but I still felt destroyed because I understood that we were going to be apart forever. “Goodbye, Brad. We should write to each other.” His voice cracked. We were so young and innocent. Pure. We loved each other and it was that simple. We weren’t old enough to be jaded by life. We weren’t old enough to be filled with trepidation or caution because of poor decisions. We were just friends—friends who loved each other deeply. “Brad! We need to go. Its already an hour after when we wanted to leave. Come and get in the car,” I heard my mom bellow. “See you, Ian.” “Write to me when you get to your new house.” I jumped in the car and looked out the window. It was slightly fogged from the weather. It began to rain harder. The last thing I remember about that day was Ian standing on our lawn, his BMX bicycle tipped over next to him, waving as we drove away. ================================================================================== The rest of my elementary school life was a nightmare. I was thin, short, and out of shape. I had thick glasses and was “smart” so the cool kids didn’t want to really get to know me. I thought of Ian often when no one would play with me. Eventually, the most popular kid on our sixth-grade class befriended me. He was tall and blonde. His father was a doctor and they lived in a beautiful house on the crest of a hill overlooking the town. I was glad he became my friend. Everyone seemed to like me after he started talking to me. I didn’t feel the same way about him as I did about Ian, but he was nice and I made some friends because of him. Ian and I wrote to each other a few times. Eventually, we stopped. I don’t know who sent the last letter, or who didn’t respond, but I do remember feeling some blunted and distant sorrow about that loss. But one thing I knew—that beautiful handsome boy would ALWAYS be my first kiss. And I would ALWAYS be his. That gave me some satisfaction. ================================================================================== Junior high started the next year. It was a huge transition. The elementary schools combined and so there were hundreds of new kids. Social life was turned on its head. I went to sit with my friends from elementary school at lunch. The popular kids had somehow found each other automatically. The cool kids I had become friends with in my last year of elementary school had gravitated toward a group of other good-looking kids. I approached John, the coolest guy in my class last year who had befriended me. I had never seen the girl sitting next to him, nor can I remember what she looked like or who she was. Sometimes it is easiest to block things out that are painful. “Hey John. Is this where we are sitting?” I asked when I walked up to the long cafeteria table. John didn’t look at me, not really. He just kept talking to the people around him. The little shrew-faced girl sitting next to him looked up at me standing next to them as they were seated. With a smug look she gave me a once over, looking at my unremarkable face, my thick glasses, beginnings of acne, and unremarkable body. I was short, even for that age. I wasn’t dressed like most of the cool kids. My parents didn’t have much money although we never lacked anything we really needed. We just couldn’t afford the name brands and current styles that the cool kids could. After inspecting me carefully, the girl looked me straight in the eye and proclaimed me unworthy. “This table is for the popular kids. Go somewhere else.” In that instant, something inside of me changed, and not for the better. I felt alone. I felt like I had lost something of great value – I had lost my friends from last year. From that moment on, when the lunch bell rang, I either sat in the hallway waiting for the lunch period to be over and not eating anything, or if I was especially hungry that day, I would take my brown bag lunch, walk into the boys’ restroom, close the door to a stall, sit on a lidded toilet, and eat my lunch there. It was disgusting, I know, but I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere. I knew everyone and they knew me, but I didn’t belong to any group or have any real friends. It was terrible. My parents didn’t know of my isolation. No one really knew. I faked it well. But, it was destroying my self-confidence and self worth. One morning, I woke up and felt sore from head to toe. It wasn’t the soreness that comes from a solid run or a little overexertion. It was the kind of soreness that made me feel like my body was growing into the mattress. I could barely move. I had never felt like that before. It was painful but it also felt supremely…good. It was a foreign feeling. I only wanted to lay in bed. I wracked my mind trying to think about what could have made me feel that way. I didn’t play sports and I hadn’t had gym class the day before. Every muscle in my body felt like it had been put through some sort of top-level military exercise. I couldn’t explain it, so I didn’t try. When I got to school, I moved slowly through the hall. Picking up my legs was a struggle. God, so much pain was wracking my body. The thought of sitting in a chair for first period was the only thing that kept me going. I shuffled through the hall. I heard some laughter, most likely because there was wincing on my face. I tried to blend in to the surroundings. It is how I learned to survive; however, the dull pain radiating from my muscles forced a certain scowl to be permanently etched onto my face. Fuck. I was almost to my first course of the day. I turned around the corner in the wide hallway hugging the wall and leaning a bit on it for support. Just then, John, my previous friend from elementary school ran into me, head-on. “Sorry, Brad.” He looked at me with some degree of pity. I think he knew he had been an ass hole and was feeling sorry about the social pariah that I had become. He was partially responsible for that and I know he knew it to some degree. At that moment though, all I could think about was the sharp pain that I felt as his body collided with mine. The rest of junior high was spent cowering away from people. The days of soreness came and went for years. I couldn’t really explain them, nor could I escape them. I would often feel the same way a day or two after my gym class, but that was only once a week and my bouts of full-body soreness occurred much more frequently than that. One thing that I did excel at was music. I joined the high school jazz band when I moved up to 10th grade. I was good. I played the piano and could make the most jaded person feel alive when I sat down at the keyboard. It was a gift. Our school was known for the music program and a lot of the cool kids were in band actually. The teacher was amazing, energetic, and fun. We traveled around the state putting on concerts for communities and other schools. It was the highlight of my high school career up to that point. When I was a senior, we were invited to perform at a Washington state high school leadership camp at Central Washington University in Ellensburg. It was scheduled on the day of my 18th birthday. CWU wasn’t too far away, but it was a reason to be gone from high school and my tormented existence there for a day so I was very excited. I woke up on the morning before we left, more sore and exhausted than I ever had been. I was in so much pain; I almost started crying when attempting to get out of bed. I didn’t want to eat as was typical when I felt this way. I just wanted to lay in bed, motionless, without apology. My parents had been becoming increasingly worried. Something that they thought was probably just growing pains had now been occurring for the better part of 6 years…and I hadn’t been growing much. I was around 5’4” and thin. Most of the latter part of that equation was because of my lack of desire to eat when I felt the soreness. It was becoming more and more frequent that I would have these bad days. The doctors didn’t know what was causing it and that was not for a lack of trying to figure it out. They did all sorts of tests. I was supposedly healthy outside if a bit of malnutrition. Anyway, Jazz Band was planning on going to this leadership conference the next day. I wasn’t going to miss it. It would be the best birthday present I could have--I enjoyed getting out and exploring other places. It reminded me that there was a life outside of the walls of my high school. I knew that if I could make it to graduation, things would be OK. I was thinking of going to CWU anyway, so I could check it out while I was there. I forced myself out of bed, showered, got dressed, and made it to school just on time- without eating of course. I knew I should really start eating more. The day went well for the most part. I ate in the bathroom stall again, which was becoming more and more common for me to do. I avoided talking to people and therefore, avoided being made fun of or pushed around. Fuck, I was short AND skinny. That is a troublesome combination for an 18-year-old band geek. I walked home alone. It was only a couple of blocks so there was not use in driving. I was in a good mood however. Tomorrow was another band trip and my birthday. I ate a few bites at dinner, crawled into bed, and wished for a quick sleep. The next morning, we left for Ellensburg. The air was clear and crisp as often happens in the late spring. This would be our last trip of the school year and the last trip of my high school career. We arrived at the university and started setting up in a huge ornate auditorium. Red velvet curtains crossed the stage with long braded golden ropes hanging from the corners. Huge soaring columns lined the sides of the auditorium and hundreds of soft seats curve out in dozens of rows facing the stage. It was a beautiful building. We got things prepared and just in time. The participants from other high schools around the state started filtering just as we completed our sound check. The concert began. I was brilliant as usual. But I didn’t consider myself to be anything special, regardless of the talent I obviously had. The concert ended and I was a bit sad. The one thing in my life that I cared about, the one thing I was good at, was almost over. I loved the applause of the audience. It was one good thing in my life. I made my way out of the auditorium after we were finished. I was helping the others pack up their instruments in the back alley behind the building. I felt a shock of surprise for some reason. I didn’t know why, but the air seemed to change somehow. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I got goose bumps all over my arms. “Hey. Is your name Brad?” I heard a deep powerful rumbling voice ask from a few feet behind me. It sounded like silk and thunder. I turned around and one of the most stunning men I have ever seen was staring at me with a quizzical look. He smiled and my heart exploded. He was about my age but phenomenally more muscular. He looked to be about 6’ tall, had smooth tan skin unadulterated by acne. His hair was short and with a slight curl. Damn. He was beautiful. “Ya. I’m Brad.” I didn’t know what else to say. Who the fuck was this Adonis? His tight t-shirt hugged his body and was a size too small. The fabric stretched begrudgingly over his bloated pecs, pulling tight especially across his cleavage. Two gumdrop sized nipples stuck out against a shirt that had no recourse from the power contained underneath it. The sleeves were a bit to short but that only served to accentuate the planets of delts perched above the god’s arms. Biceps dangled happily from the shoulders and were hugged on each side by a very prominent vein. His forearms looked like Popeye-come-to-life but were decorated with an intricate web of vasculature. I never thought veins to be especially attractive, but his were somehow…graceful. I couldn’t take my eyes away from his steely grey eyes. They knew something I did not. I could tell he was now smiling mischievously. I broke my gaze and looked away for a moment. I pushed the bridge of my glasses up my nose. Some of the girls were staring, slack-jawed, at the perfect specimen that was staring at me. Some of the other guys were similarly in awe. Others looked disgusted, but only out of jealousy. This was a god, and everyone knew it. “Brad! I can’t believe it is you!” The god looked like he was getting excited and was happy about something. I couldn’t think of what it could be. It made me a bit nervous—and aroused. His muscles expanded and contracted. He didn’t take his eyes off of me but had this galactic grin across his face. He took a step toward me and I just looked up, wondering who this was and what he could possibly want with me. He took another step, bent down slightly and wrapped his arms around me. “It’s Ian! From elementary school. I heard your name when they were introducing you all in there and I thought it must be you.” It was Ian. The best friend I ever had. My first kiss. His first kiss. “IAN!” I gasped. He lifted me up easily, his hands under my arms, until I was eye to eye with him. It should have felt demeaning to have someone pick me up like a small child, but it didn’t. It felt safe. “Brad, I can’t believe it man. I just can’t believe it. What are the odds of us meeting here after all this time?” I couldn’t speak. My mind was racing and my cock was beginning to respond to this beautiful man’s voice. This was my best friend. This was my best friend! Instantly, I didn’t feel alone anymore. I heard a couple of gasps from my fellow band-mates. I could tell they were stunned that I knew who this muscle stud was and that he was giving me a hug. Ian set me down on my feet again. My eyes traveled up from his pecs to his eyes. I couldn’t help but noticed, however, that his too-small shirt left an inch gap between the top of his tight jeans and the bottom hem of his t-shirt. I could make out the silky skin underneath and a very pronounced happy trail of hair running from what must be his abs down to his manhood. I was about to explode. My cock twitched in my pants. His eyes were glowing and his smile could knock satellites out of orbit if he grinned in the right direction. Fuck. He was perfect. “Ian, we have to go!” I heard a middle-aged voice call out in the distance. “We have to leave now!” “Hey Brad. We need to catch up. I should give you my number. I graduate high school next week and will have a few weeks off before I come here for football training camp this summer. I can come visit you if you want. I just can’t believe that I finally reconnected with you!” “That…That would be…great, Ian.” The god looked around for a pen or something so he could write his number down. A stunned girl (a homely overweight saxophonist) meekly handed him a pen, smiling, blushing. “Thank you,” he rumbled and smiled looking her directly in the eye. He was kind. “You are coming here next year? I am as well.” I stuttered out the information. “Ya, I am! This will be so great! Brad, you have to call me. I’ll come visit in the next few weeks. I can drive over from Spokane. It’s only a few hours. I am so happy to see you! I miss you.” There was a look of caution and care in his eyes. He almost looked sad. It looked like pity. I couldn’t speak but just nodded in agreement. He flashed a smile and winked with his left eye. “Call me, Brad… Please. We have a lot to catch up on.” Another smile flashed across his face and he turned around to walk toward his teacher. The wind had been knocked out of my sails. I could barely breath as I watched him walk away. His back would make his chest jealous. Thick pillars of muscle ran along his spine. A topographical map lay under his tight shirt. And his round tight ass… that is what my eyes focused on. Powerful, tight, hard, sexy-as-fuck. I wanted to bury my face in between those muscle cakes and feed on his undoubtedly perfect hole. I couldn’t stop staring. Just before he turned around the corner with his school group, he looked back at me, flashed that smile, and winked again. It was silent for a moment. Everyone around me was stunned. They looked at me like I was an alien, like they had just barely noticed a new life form in their midst. “You know that guy?” I heard spoken to me a dozen times in the next few minutes. I didn’t respond for a few moments. I found that collecting my thoughts in that moment was almost impossible. John, my elementary school friend who hadn’t given me the time of day for years, and the drummer of our jazz band, approached me quickly. “Who was that?” he demanded. He sounded almost—jealous. There is little I remember about what happened after that, but I stood up straighter in that moment and looked around at the faces torn between trying to catch another glimpse of Ian or watching me like some strange insect. “He is my best friend.” I said it simply. Everyone went back to work, packing up for our trip home. Every once in a while, I would see someone glance at me and just shake their head. I didn’t know if it was jealousy or incredulity…maybe it was a bit of both. Which ever it was, that moment was the best of any birthday I had ever had. The next day I woke up and was sore again. I was in pain more than I wasn’t these days. I could barely get out of bed but I had to try. Something about what happened with Ian the previous day echoed in my mind. He was the handsomest, most masculine, gorgeous man that I had ever seen…and he wanted to come visit for a few days and “catch up” on life. I pinched myself repeatedly. Holy shit. School wrapped up for the year largely without incident. I called Ian a couple of times over the course of a few weeks and we set up for him to come and visit for several days before he headed to his summer football program. I couldn’t believe that that muscle stud would be under my roof, sleeping in my room, for 3 or 4 days. I don’t know if I could control myself. Every time I thought about it, I got hard…like raging hard. My cock was becoming quite talented at producing sweet honey-like precum at even the most passing of thoughts about Ian. How would my humble cock and balls handle having that meat monster around for days on end? The day finally came. It was perfectly sunny outside and warm. Ian pulled into our driveway in a late model Jeep Wrangler. It fit his ruggedness and personality perfectly. I watched out the window as he grabbed a t-shirt from the back seat and pulled it over his bare chest. He had been shirtless and now was trying to be presentable for meeting my parents again. I wish he would have just left that god-damned shirt off and walked up to the front door in all of his magnificence. Even just looking out the window at him pulling his shirt over his head, I was ready to pump out a huge load. This could be trouble. I heard the doorbell downstairs and a shuffling from the kitchen. “Brad!!! That must be Ian!” I head my mother yell. She was going to answer the door, thankfully. I was still a bit hard from watching Ian’s bare chest pull into the drive. I wanted to suck on his nipples, chewing them, grabbing his huge hard ass, tongue his tight pink love hole. These images flashed through my mind in the course of one second. Fuck. My. Life. I heard the low rumble of Ian’s voice in the entry way and then I heard my mom start laughing. He was a charmer that is for sure. I made my way downstairs slowly…I didn’t want to cum spontaneously in my pants before I even got downstairs. “IAN! You made it.” I could hardly contain my excitement. I still couldn’t believe that this perfectly handsome muscle beast would be within arms reach of me for days on end. I was suddenly apprehensive. Would he find me watching him, lusting after him, tenting my shorts every time he looked at me. He seemed so nice, but maybe he would beat my ass if he found out. “Let’s get you settled in my room. Then we can decide what we are going to do the rest of the day, OK?” “Sure, Brad. I do need to go find a gym today so I can get a good workout in, but I saw a few coming into town. Other than that, I am completely free. I just want to be sure I stay in top shape for football camp this weekend.” I nodded in agreement. Some inner part of me wanted to be sure that Ian invited me to go workout with him, even though I hadn’t lifted a weight in my life. He grabbed his duffle bag in one arm and hoisted it onto his shoulder. “Lead the way, Brad,” he shot another smile at me with one of those devious winks. He would be trouble, I could feel it. “Straight up the stairs,” I said. He started climbing the stairs, his round hard ass-globes propelling his rippling beefy body up to my room. I was following him only a step behind. My face was only an inch away from his muscular ass globes and that tight, warm hole and I could smell his exquisite man scent reaching out to me like a mythological siren. I wanted to bury my tongue in the crevasse of his perky powerful caboose. I wanted to probe his fuck hole with my tongue until I made him scream. I couldn’t believe I was having these thoughts, but I was. It was as if he was sending me the message through his pheromones. I could smell him. I could smell his need. We reached my room, he threw his duffle bag on the ground, smiled at me, and got a dirty look on his face. Once again, he knew something I didn’t. “You mind if I change? I want to get my gym clothes on before I go find a place to workout.” “I don’t mind at all. I’ll just give you a few minutes to get ready.” I stared up at Ian, his pulsating muscles writhing under his tight clothes. “Brad, I’d prefer if you stayed.” He leveled me with another sly smile. “We can start catching up as I get ready.” He offered that last bit as insurance in case I didn’t accept the direction of his comments. How could I not. He was 6 foot and over 200 pounds of solid marble strength. I was just pushing 5’ 4” and struggled to break 110 pounds on a good day. I was pathetic comparatively. “Sure. Let’s catch up, Ian.” I sat on the edge of the bed as Ian rifled through his clothes looking for something he could wear to the gym. “Do you have any protein powder, Brad? I should probably make a shake before heading to the gym. I have some in the Jeep I can give you later in exchange.” I couldn’t stifle my laughter. “Seriously Ian. Do I look like I use protein powder? I am about as big as one of those thick thighs of yours.” Ian stopped changing and just looked at me—like he shouldn’t have asked the question. I wanted to look him in the eye, but I could only look at the beautifully tanned skin of the man before me. He had taken off all of his clothes except his briefs. I could see his bulge threatening to stretch the limits of its cage…and he wasn’t even hard. His body was so beautiful and thick. I could spend hours trying to describe it, but it would do no good. My eyes tracked down from his shoulders to his pecs. They traced his arms and switched over to his insane abs. Were abs supposed to have a netting of veins? I hadn’t ever seen that. My eyes came to rest on his waistline. His Apollo’s belt (or what I liked to call, the cum gutters) focused my eyes on the trail of hair extending from just above his navel downward where they plunged into his intensely white and tight briefs. I let out a soft moan and then… I spontaneously ejaculated. Fear coursed across my face and I felt like I was going to pass out, my body trembling from the orgasm as well as the embarrassment. My eyes started to flutter as I felt the world around me getting dark. I could tell I was going to pass out, my legs giving out underneath me. I faintly remember Ian’s beautiful muscled powerful body stepping toward me quickly with arms out. I felt them wrap around me. Then I felt myself faint. I was lying down on the bed naked. I looked over and saw Ian rifling through my dresser…shit. I had my muscle magazines in there. I mean, online pics and videos were OK, but sometimes having those pictures right in front – a magazine in one and my cock in the other – that was perfect. He grabbed a couple of items and turned around just in time to see me looking over at him. “You OK, Brad? I got you undressed and cleaned up. I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t want to worry your parents about you passing out since I think I know why you did.” He could see the terror in my eyes, I am sure of it. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it. It happens sometimes.” “People spontaneously dumping cum in their pants when they look at you? That happens ‘sometimes’? Fuck that man!” For some reason, it came out in an angry voice. I felt my cheeks turn red. Was I jealous that others had seen Ian, my best friend, and had instant orgasms? Fuck yes. I was a little jealous. I was jealous that others had that reaction and I was even more jealous that he was so goddamn perfect. My life had sucked beyond words since I moved away from him…I ate my lunch almost every day in the school bathroom for fuck’s sake just to survive! And here he was, a god among men, smiling and friendly, and… and fuck him! “Ya. It happens sometimes.” He looked embarrassed now and slightly ashamed, like he had done something wrong. I felt like shit. He couldn’t help how fucking gorgeous he was with his thick cords and bulges, his perfect skin that any cosmetics company would want to know the secret too, his piercing steely eyes, his perfect body hair…it wasn’t his fault and I had just blamed him and made him feel ashamed of himself. I looked away. It was my turn to feel ashamed. He walked across the room toward me with some clean shorts and a tank top in his hand. He held them out to me with a look of concern on his face. He was worried about me and he was worried that I was angry with him. “Are you OK, Brad? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have undressed you and cleaned you up. I was just trying to help.” “Please don’t apologize Ian. It’s me, not you. I guess I am just a little overwhelmed by how different our lives seem to have gotten since I moved here all those years ago.” “How so? You know you can tell me anything, Brad. Anything. You are still the best friend I have ever had.” I reached out and grabbed the clothes from his outstretched huge arm, pulled the shorts on and put on the tank top. My thinness was on display. I sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to me in a gesture to invite him to sit down next to me. He took his spot on the bed and looked at me with so much compassion and concern in his eyes. I could barely speak. I started mumbling a few times, but couldn’t get out more than a few words without stopping. I wasn’t crying, I just didn’t know where to start. No one made me feel as comfortable as Ian and I had told no one about my horrible school experiences. He put is massive ripped arm around my small narrow shoulders. “Take your time, Brad. Just take your time.” I began telling him about elementary school, about my friends there and how they abandoned me in junior high. I told him about the meanness that I encountered because of my small size. I told him about being gay. He just left his arm around my shoulders and looked at my face. I couldn’t even make eye contact with him, but I knew he was paying attention to every word I was saying. About halfway through my story, he pulled me in tighter, right into the space between his bicep and his overdeveloped chest. I felt safe, finally. Eventually, I told him about how I thought I must be sick with some weird disease. I would have almost debilitating muscle soreness and no one knew why. He just listened and didn’t say a word for over an hour, all the while holding me in the muscled pocket of his hard armpit. At the end of the story, he gave me a squeeze. “So you see, our lives couldn’t be more different. If you want to leave after hearing about all of that, you can. It would be harder if you stayed and were weird about it.” “Nothing you have said makes me feel ‘weird’, Brad. Some things in our lives are maybe more similar than you would think.” That’s all he said at the moment so I left it at that. If he wanted to share some of his secrets with me, he would do so in his own time. I respected that. It just felt so good to have my best friend back. “You want to come to the gym with me? We could start you on a program to put some size on you, if you want.” “Ummmmm…maybe. I’ll go with you and see how I feel. It’s a bit intimidating--the gym.” We walked out of the room, down the stairs, and out to the Jeep. What a mismatched pair we were. But it didn’t matter. Arriving at one of the local muscle gyms, we walked in and were greeted at the front desk by fucking John. I didn’t know he worked there. Shit. “Hey, man. Could we get two visitor’s passes for the day? My buddy and I would like to get a workout in this afternoon.” John looked me directly in the eye. I couldn’t figure out what the look on his face meant, but it wasn’t friendly. “Sure. Just sign in here. It’s $5 for a visitor’s pass, but I’ll waive it for you,” John said looking at Ian. Ian signed his name and moved out of the way so I could sign in as well. I wrote down my name on the ledger. “That’ll be $5 for a visitor’s pass.” He looked at me with a smugness I was surprised at. I took out my wallet, embarrassed that Ian was getting a free pass and I had to pay. My face flushed red and I went into my billfold to grab the cash. Ian had been looking into the weight room and hadn’t seen the interaction between John and myself. He glanced back just as I was about to hand John my money. “Hey! Why are you making him pay?” There was a certain tone in Ian’s voice that made me believe that he was more than a little annoyed. “You didn’t make me pay. Why are you making him?” “Its OK, Ian,” I said quietly. “No, it isn’t. Fuck that. Why are you making him pay?” He reached into his own wallet and handed John a $10 bill. “That’s for both of us, asshole.” He put the money on the counter, his eyes boring into John’s. I was shell-shocked. Ian had just burned the most popular guy in our high school class. All I could think was, “We aren’t in high school anymore, John. You’re in a bigger pond with much bigger fish.” I kept that comment to myself. Ian looked down at me and simply said, “Let’s go, Brad.” We walked through the weight room into the locker room. The next hour of my life was insanely intense. Ian didn’t even workout much himself. He spent the entire time helping me learn different basic lifts. He coached me on form, on beginning routines, and we talked about nutrition. His workout time had turned into my personal training session. I was terrified that the next day I wouldn’t be able to move. I voiced my concern to Ian, since I had terrible muscle pain frequently. “Maybe you will, Brad. Maybe. But maybe not. I never have been sore after I lift.” “Not once?” “Never. And it’s not for lack of trying. I have tried to workout so hard that I couldn’t feel my legs or arms when I left the gym. But the next day, nothing. Not even a little ache. So, I guess it depends on how your body will deal with the lifting.” We left the gym after downing a couple of protein shakes that Ian had brought in his gym bag. Walking past the counter, John shot me a sharp look and then went on to stare at Ian’s massive frame walking along side of me. I couldn’t blame him. The rest of the evening, we just hung out at the house catching up on life, ate dinner with my parents, and settled in for a relaxing evening. My parent’s went to bed early so Ian and I stayed in the family room watching TV. It was so nice to feel that at ease with someone. I hadn’t had that feeling since the 5th grade. Ian kept looking at me though. I could tell he wanted to say something. A certain feeling of uncomfortability began to creep into the room. I could just feel it. The TV show ended and we just sat there in the room on the couch. “Ready for bed, Ian?” “Sure. Let’s go up to your room.” He smiled at me and led the way. He knew how much I liked staring at his ass. I am sure of it. I crawled into my big bed. He started blowing up the air mattress. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He had stripped down to a pair of red tight boxer briefs that showed the separation of his beautiful ass cheeks and left little to the imagination with regard to his apparently huge cock. I felt myself getting aroused again watching him inhale deeply, shoulders rising, pecs jutting out…and then exhaling into the mouth valve on the air mattress. It was the sexiest thing I had seen—ever. So much power in that thick hard body. And it was almost naked three feet away from me. “Whoa…I think I’m going to give it a rest for a minute. I’m getting light headed.” I just smiled. He smiled back. “You know, you could just sleep in my bed. It is a king size. I don’t take up much room, obviously.” He looked at me with a certain seriousness on his face. “Not if you feel uncomfortable though,” I quickly added. I didn’t want my gigantic friend to think I was hitting on him…not yet anyway. “Um…OK. But I have to sleep in the nude. I can’t sleep if I have clothes on.” My cock shot to attention again but I don’t think Ian noticed. “That’s fine…just don’t attack me in my sleep. I know you want to!” I jested with him, trying to diffuse the sexually tense situation happening in my mind. Ian stood up straight, put his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear and eased them down. I could see the elastic stretching thin as the band worked its way over his globular glutes. Fuck, they were big and round and hard. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He just stared at me. He worked his tight briefs off and down the huge quads of his and stood there in all of his 8”-soft glory. My breath caught in my throat. He just chuckled softly, reached down and grabbed the top sheet on the bed and worked his way under the covers. I could feel his heat radiating over to my much smaller, quivering body. I turned the light switch off next to the bed and the room fell into darkness. I was so tired—exhausted really. But at the same time, I didn’t want to miss out on the feeling of having this god of muscle only inches away from me…naked. NAKED. I could smell the clean scent of man rising from him. I could smell testosterone oozing from his pores. I could smell the singular scent of his clean hole calling to me. I wanted to bury my face in his ass crack and make him squeal as I rimmed him into ecstasy. I could taste him… My erection stiffened even more. I didn’t know it was possible. I let out a muffled moan and I saw his face turn toward me, only a few inches away. I reached onto the nightstand next to me and grabbed a wad of tissue paper and tried to sneak it under the covers. I was going to cum again. I felt my balls churning my seed. I thought I could cum and be quiet about it. I had the tissue paper ready to soak up my creamy emissions. Ian wasn’t asleep. I could tell by his breathing. But, I was being so careful. Maybe he didn’t know what I was doing. I could only hope. I couldn’t hold on much longer. I felt that trip switch that happens before the cum cannon begins to shoot: the point of no return. I could feel my inner parts start to pump their sticky juices in preparation for an epic explosion. I let out another stifled groan- trying to be as quiet as I could. I wrapped my hard throbbing cock in Kleenex and let myself cave into my more beastly nature. I felt my man juices rise through the canals inside of me, racing their way to freedom and into the receptiveness of my right hand. At the moment of climax, I heard a deep guttural breath come from Ian. The first volley of cum had shot out of my throbbing hot cock and I could feel the other ready for launch. Then I heard words that increased the power coursing through my body by one-hundred… “I’m gay too.” Ian had whispered the words at the moment of my orgasm. My body bucked and gyrated. I let out a growl that I was shocked could come from such a weak and thin body. Ian just chuckled and let me finish. “I just wanted you to know, and this seemed like the perfect time.” I was still reeling from the most powerful orgasm I had ever had as well as the knowledge that my fucking monster of a friend was naked, next to me, and gay himself. My head couldn’t handle it, but my body tried. My cock was drained, but it kept trying to spew more cum out. It was like dry heaves but for my cock…and it felt good. “Good night, Brad.” Ian rolled over on his side and fell into a deep sleep. His light snoring told me so. I lay there, sticky, hot, sweating…thunderstruck. I drifted off as well. I woke up early the next morning. Ian was still lying next to me, his skin touching mine lightly—our legs were touching. It felt amazing. I stretched, expecting to feel horrible pain and soreness from the intense workout the day before. I felt so energized and couldn’t even feel a slight ache. I was sure that I would be in a world of hurt. Ian stirred next to me and let out a low grumble. He sounded like a lion in pain. “Fuck, Brad. I can barely move. My whole body hurts. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” I sat up in bed and looked over at him, concerned. He looked at me as his eyes popped out of his head. “Holy shit, Brad. Look at your abs.”
  6. Taking Care of Randy

    Here is a very rough draft I was working on a few years ago. Thought I would share. For visual reference, here is an example of how Randy looks to me: The trailer shook as if a small earthquake was rolling through the ground. I lost my place on the book’s page but felt no alarm. I knew it was Randy coming to get me for some chore. I felt him slow his pace as he shimmied sideways down the hall, his massive muscle gut audibly brushing the vinyl wood-veneered walls of the double-wide trailer. “Hey boy, I need you to do me a favor” he said as his gargantuan frame filled the doorway, hairy gut partially protruding into the room. I looked over to see him shirtless, in nothing but the custom briefs I made for him and his trademark aviator sunglasses. The outline of his swelling cock was obscene. Randy wasn’t even close to full-mast but his dick sat plump in the elongated front pouch at a heavy 11 inches and thick as a beer bottle. It rested high and dropped off of two mango-sized testicles, the whole package straining the white fabric to near transparency. I knew what he wanted; I’d be coaxed into emptying his balls to help relieve the pressure. “It’s been close to 24 hours now. I ain’t gone this long since the first time I ever came” My body was shadowed by the bunk above me, and I felt safe here in my small room. It was only big enough for the bunks and a dresser. It was a crammed little space for sure, however it had one critical feature: the door frame was too small for Randy. The narrow entrance framed his gut, hairy chest cleavage and some of his traps, while the rest of him extended far past the threshold. Going in sideways did not work – his muscle gut and pecs projected off of his body to such a degree that he could not squeeze through. “I’m feeling tired and I really don’t want to clean all that up, Randy” “That’s alright. You can just swallow all of it this time” he smiled. We both knew that was not going to happen. Randy had a problem – he produced semen at an absurd rate, outpacing a normal man by 50 times. He needed to be relieved at least 3 times a day to not be in pain. Despite having numerous clients on the Strip each night, and pumping out a couple of ounces each time, he would usually wake up in a warm pool of his own sticky load meshing and tangling his hairy belly and bush. His clients almost always took care of emptying him through the night, but I was around to handle the morning cleanup – as well as a host of other responsibilities. “How come you don’t just stroke it yourself Randy?” “We out of towels boy. This is gonna be big dump too, I need your help. Don’t want to clog the fucking toilet again either” I was going to stand my ground. I did a lot for Randy, and though I was always turned on by his body, I did not want to deal with the mess tonight. My routine for him was already grueling: I would wake him up each day, him stinking and covered in his own cum from several wet dreams. I’d help him in the bathroom, which was designed like a wet room for a person with disabilities. The room was essentially a large shower (bigger than my room mind you) with a mirror, sink and extra-large toilet. It was a light yellow-cream color and the entire floor slopped to a drain in the center. A flexible hose with shower head attachment plugged into the wall. I would take off his cum soaked briefs and through them in the corner with a heavy slap. I would then proceed to wash off his body, scrubbing off the thick semen with a cloth, being sure to clean his 9 inch soft cock and bull-like balls. “Randy, the answer is no. Just use one of the empty milk cartons” “Come on now. You know I can’t jerk it and hold something in front of my dick at the same time. I need you boy” he sounded more serious. After washing him, I would then help him dry off and put on a clean pair of briefs. He would adjust his massive package to a comfortable angle. The coffee would have been brewed by now and I would immediately begin his breakfast. First the shake, which was easiest. Whole milk, oats, 6 cups of protein powder, cottage cheese, yogurt and some peanut butter. It was gross to be sure, but it was nearly 300 grams of protein. A “quick snack to start the day” he would say. As he stood behind me, naked expect for the briefs barely capable to handle his bulge, I would cook his 10 eggs, full pack of bacon, 12 pancakes and jug of sliced fruit (my idea to help him keep regular). “Go outside then” I said turning my attention back to my book. He grunted like a bull – I was winding him up. He enjoyed watching me cook while he drank his shake and coffee for some reason, only sitting when I had finished and placed all the food on one large platter for him. He would eat like an absolute pig while I cleaned up the kitchen, saving myself a tiny portion in comparison to satisfy myself. Usually Randy would finish before I was done cleaning and would swagger up behind me, leaving his plate and fork by the sink. His big gut would brush up against me in the small space, and many mornings he would grab my plate of food and inhale it in a few bites, not knowing (or caring) that it was reserved for me. I would pause to help him slide on some shorts (again, custom made by yours-truly) and he would squeeze out the front entrance to lift the weights scattered about the trailer roasting under the hot Las Vegas sun. He would be out there for at least 3 hours. During this time I would handle the remaining cleaning duties. “Boy, if you don’t watch yourself, I’m going to do it right here and cover this floor” I would clean the rest of the kitchen and then head to the bedroom to strip the bed and remake the sheets. The fitted sheet and mattress pad would be congealed with his cum, and I would have to separate the fabric from the plastic sheet underneath. This layer was critical for keeping the king sized bed salvageable. It was a laborious task considering the size of the bed and cramped space. With the bedding balled up and sticking to me, I would place it in the washer, always making sure to grab his briefs that were now crusted in the corner of the bathroom. Several servings of detergent was necessary to clean the load (no pun intended). With the wash started, I would then scrub the plastic sheet and tidy up the rest of the trailer. Then I would begin preparing lunch. “Please, let’s not do this tonight” I replied meekly. “Come on, I am exhausted” “That ain’t what I pay you for, boy” Yes, I am essentially Randy’s full time care-giver now. He just couldn’t keep up with the tasks of taking care of such a hulking body alone. At an even 6’0 and 430 pounds of bulging muscle, Randy was an absolute giant of a man. He consumed 20,000 calories a day, went through several changes of clothes and had to figure out some way of disposing of the copious volumes of cum he ejaculated throughout. He needed help. “Randy, taking care of you is more than a full-time job. I need a break every now and then” “I understand that boy, but you need to help me out right now. I am in pain” Randy and I first met a while after he developed his “condition”. He rang up the private, at-home care dispatch I worked for saying he needed someone discreet and willing to work a messy job for good pay. I had been with the company for some time by that point and had seen it all – paraplegics, old-timers, mentally deficient, you name it. My boss trusted me with any client so I was an obvious choice. But I had never had a gig like taking care of Randy. “You know, when we started this whole thing, we had a contract. Eight hours a day, 15 days off a year, and reimbursement for travel. I don’t get any of that now” I said, obviously frustrated. “I pay for your gas!” he replied, as if that remedied the situation. I will always remember the first day I had pulled up to his double-wide trailer, some dump tucked away in the only remotely industrial part of Las Vegas. As I pulled up in my car, I was immediately floored by the colossal man lifting weights in the front “yard”, shirtless and drenched in sweat under the hot sun. He wore sunglasses, cowboy hat and jeans that were ready to burst from the size of his legs. At this point, Randy was only 320 pounds. He stood up to greet me when I exited my car, my hand dwarfed and encased by his sweaty, calloused palm. I was in sheer awe and he could easily tell. His pecs sat like heavy slabs of beef on his torso, casting twin shadows over his hairy belly. Randy’s body glistened with sweat, a stream running down the crevice of his massive chest down to his gapping belly button. I had never seen a man that size before and something in my gaze made Randy smile. “Randy, it ain’t happening so just leave me alone” He was scowling now “boy…you think these flimsy little walls can keep me out?” He informed me then that his testosterone production rivaled that of a large bull, a condition that had randomly begun in adulthood. He told me that he had always been a big guy, but in only 2 years he had gained a remarkable 60 pounds of pure muscle. Our working relationship began slowly but soon spiraled out of control to the situation I find myself in today. Originally I was cooking his meals and helping him with simple chores like laundry. Now I am officially his personal chef, maid, grocery shopper and tailor (a skill I'm still working on). As time went on, Randy kept getting bigger. Though he sports a massive hairy gut, it tougher than iron - a caress while blind-folded and you would swear you were rubbing a marble statue covered in fur. And in spite of his gut's titanic proportion, his chest has kept pace and still exceeds his gut easily with a measurement of 78 inches. His nipples are constantly plump and would be clearly obvious in any shirt he would wear, that is if he still wore shirts. Randy spends about 90 percent of his time shirtless, his hairy belly, bulging pecs and basket ball sized arms on display, usually in a film of sweat that I am expected to towel off. "Little boy, you have one more chance to get off your ass and come drain these balls or I'm going to get in here and pump you full of cum" he growled. His voice dropped a few octaves and I actually started to get butterflies in my stomach. He seemed pissed. Being gigantic is intoxicating for him, and he is always talking about getting bigger. But his size no doubt creates numerous challenges, aside from what I have already groaned about. For starters, Randy is a spectacle no matter where he goes. He typically wears a stringer tank top when he goes out and they hardly cover anything. His burly chest, fat nipples and the top half of his power gut are on full display. The bottom portion of the tank top clings to his gargantuan gut and is tight like a drum over his gaping naval. As for pants, he is always in shorts - fortunately, clothing for the obese fits him well so covering his nether regions is no problem...until you consider his manhood. I turn to look at he strips offs his briefs and proudly allows his veiny cock to enter my room. He is now sporting an erection at 15.5 inches and nearly as thick as a bottle of wine. His cock head features an obscene piss hole which can pump out thick streams of hot cum. The bull is ready. I basically plead with him to wear underwear. Otherwise, his cock and bull balls tend to flop all over the place and sometimes even drop out from the bottom of his shorts. I can still vividly remember us together at a buffet several months back and him standing up too fast - his shirts had ridden up his legs and his colossal hairy balls dropped out of his shorts for the whole restaurant to see. He didn't even notice as he swaggered up to the buffet for the eighth time. All eyes stared as his big balls bounced in the shadow of his gut. Now, the downside of the custom briefs I have made for him is there is no hiding his plump and protruding bugle in public. I routinely see people's jaws drop as they scan his body and focus in on the fruit basket straining his shorts. Randy's baseball glove-sized hand takes hold of his python and he begins to stroke with a smirk. Only his hands are large enough to wrap around his cock. Mine look like a child's next to his erect phallus. "OK boy, you had your chance. I'm dumping this load over you and this little rat hole you're hiding in!" I plead with him to stop now. It'll take me hours to clean up the sticky mess he'll leave behind. No luck. His smirk has turned to a full grin as he pumps his cock harder, preparing to unleash more cum in one go than he ever has in his life. His dick is rock hard and the veins run down his shaft in thick snake like patterns. His hairy bull balls hang low and are swinging with the motion. "HERE IT COMES BOY!" he laughs. I get down to put my hand in front of his cock, and in an instant I can feel the force of his ejaculation as he roars in releif. It stings my hand as if being shot with a high pressure hose and soon my hand, arm and most of my front half is doused in thick ropes of sticky hot semen. I cover my face as I feel it flow into my hair; it runs down my forehead and gets in my eyes. A pool of the stuff forms before me as Randy's heavy grunting slows and he catches his breath. I open my eyes and we both look at disbelief at the volume of cum that Randy has just unloaded on me. He can't even believe it. His semen is all over me and the floor. He begins to laugh in a big booming voice. "I warned you boy! Now clean yourself up and get me a protein shake!"
  7. Magic isn't real (part 2)

    Hey, I remember you...Jake, right? You came back, huh? Clearly you didn’t think I was full of shit last week. Yeah, I frequent this place a bit. Bad habit, but it lets me work some of my stuff. Make some people happy. So, clearly something made you believe me. What was it that I said I’d do? It’s been a week. Oh yes. I see it clearly now. Your cock. I’m still being too loud? No one in here is paying attention to what we’re saying. People come here to get drunk, not to eave’s drop. Calm down – I see you pants aren’t. So, let me guess. You left here after I did, wondering what type of bullshit I was selling. About…an hour or two after I left?...you started to feel a weird sensation. It was like you were in puberty again. That dull ache that seemed to be everywhere that you didn’t like then, and you don’t like now. Except you felt it in your balls. You started to have that feeling that your balls might be bigger, or something is going on in there. A day or two later, you probably were noticing that everything that bumped into you made your dick immediately hard, right? It was like being a teenager all over again. It was so horrible – but so awesome – you kinda wanted people to know that this was happening, but not in public. Let me also guess that you’ve been walking around all week, aware of your cock, but also thinking that your pants feel a bit tighter in the front. The wiggle room that you once had isn’t there any more. It’s not much, but it’s noticeable, amirite? Found yourself playing with your junk, pushing it around when you had those two or three moments of being soft, wondering to yourself if it’s all an illusion? Does it actually feel a bit thicker? Does it feel a bit longer? You don’t seem the type to measure yourself, but god damn you wish you started, huh? Am I making you hard, recalling the week? Let me keep going. Tell me where I’m wrong and how I was full of it. I’d bet that last night you went to bed and woke up to a bunch of spasming in your – well, how do you sleep? Boxers? Ok, felt some spasms in your boxers. Cum all over the place, no? Reminded you of entering puberty and having that first wet dream all over again, huh? Did you feel like the pulses were longer, harder, and thicker than normal? Did you find yourself cleaning yourself even more than usual? Yeah, I thought so. Let’s feel. Oh, damn, daddy: you starting to pack. Are you liking this stroking? You twitch every time I get near your thick head. Yeah, daddy, you like this. I’m curious what you’ll look like in an additional week? Can you imagine if this keeps going? Yeah, I’m still pouring those hormones out around you. You can smell them, can’t you? That desire to keep around me? You want me to grow you more. Ooo, your aggression is up, too. Yes, daddy, show me how much more of a man you are. Mmm. Oh, you wanted to see what I did to the other guy? He was here on Monday. I asked his number. Let me see…ah, he’s on his way. Would you like me to keep pushing yourself to see if I can get you to shoot your juice all over the place, right here, right now? No? Damn. Let’s give it another week. I have a feeling you’ll be impressed by my first experiment…to your knowledge… Ah, speak of the devil and he shall appear. The muscle man comes in. I’m happy with how he’s dressed. Look at that tank top on him – do you notice those traps? They’re far more defined than they were last week, huh? See them actually pushing up towards his ears? And those delts on him – the V is far more defined on him, huh? Can you see the thickness separating the three heads of the deltoid? Damn. His thighs are filling out those shorts a bit more – I see his quads separating a bit. Nice bulge in the front too. What, I could have packed him as well. And…ah, I feel you’re getting hard again. *sniff* Hmm, I think you might be liking what you see? I smell you leaking “fuck me papi.” Am I right? Yeah, you feel like I’m right. Do you notice those biceps on him? Yeah, they look more defined than they did a week ago, huh? Notice how his tank is clinging more to this pecs. They’re rounder, aren’t they? They push a bit more out, don’t they? Doesn’t his chest look a bit wider? Maybe his waist is a bit tighter, or maybe its his chest slightly larger? Yeah, you don’t get that in lifting in a week. You get that if you lift for a week, like a mother fucker, and you have some superior genetics going for you. I think I need to give him some more, don’t you think? Oh, you want to join me in talking to him? Sure. Jake, meet my young muscled friend, Christian. Christian, Jake. How are you doing? You look like you’re hitting the weights a lot more. May I feel your guns? I’m kind of a muscle queen. I gotta feel power. Damn. What are these up to? 14”? You look like you’ve been packing onto your arms a lot in the past few weeks. And those veins! Sorry – it tickles – but tracing your veins is just amazing. Shit, you feel solid. Damn, I must be nervous – muscle does that – cuz I’m getting sweaty around you. Sorry, I sometimes smell a bit…yeah, TMI, no? I don’t wanna eat up too much of your time. Just wanted to say hi and introduce you to Jake. I’ll probably see you around. Clearly the beer here does the body good. So, what did you think of Christian? Yeah, I was having a hard time not wanting to touch that chest. You saw those nipples pointing through the tank, huh? Made you want to run your hands on them, under them, squeeze them? Oh, look: he’s turning around. He’s clearly been also working his ass. It’s starting to form that nice bubble, don’t you think? Yeah, he swings your way. I’d imagine that that butt would be a hard thing to split open. Yes, I see your thicker sausage stretching again. Does this talk get to you? You seem to be leaking – yeah, I see your pants, right near your hip…damn. Could you imagine bending Christian over, feeling that broadening back leading to that slender waist, shoving that thick cock of yours into him? Do you think you push harder than his ass could resist you? I’m wondering. You’d like to try? The bartender here keeps the bathrooms clean. He’s pretty good, and as long as you don’t make a mess, he’s fine with you trying out the bathroom with Christian. Haha, you will? I’ll just be here. I’ll wait. … Damn, that was, how long? Shit, that smile on your face. I see Christian hasn’t come back yet…oh, he’s going to have trouble walking? Well, no shit Sherlock, you were in there for half an hour. Was his ass as glorious as we could guess it to be? It was? Fuck. How many ways you fuck him? Six? Shit. I see you’re still hard at the thought of him – feeling hornier than usual, eh? Yeah, I’ve been loading you with more hormones. It’s gonna make you harder, thicker, longer, hornier, and full of so much more cum…yeah, you’re leaking again. Well, go get him. I’m sure he hasn’t moved too far from where you bred him. Shall I see you again in a week? I’m sure you’ll have plenty to show off. Ok. I’ll see if I can make your little muscle boy even bigger for you. I have my ways.
  8. Chapter one is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7118-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-one/ With a little help from magic Chapter Two Twelfth Night came and went. Spring semester began. Aram hadn’t seen John for a couple of weeks. During Christmas leave, Aram’s family had went to another city, to spend Christmas with relatives. In order to use the holidays for something useful, Aram had brought books from the public library with him, and he had spent Christmas reading a voluminous handbook on anatomy and a monograph on constitutional matters. The books went far beyond what he was expected to read, from his teachers point of view, but Aram wanted to quench his insatiable thirst for more knowledge, and it wouldn’t hurt his grades for sure. It had been a fascinating experience to follow John’s development during autumn and beginning of winter. It was rather common that beginners at the gym got initial results pretty quick, when their bodies adjusted to something entirely new and unfamiliar, but John’s results went far beyond what could be expected of that usual effect. At the Halloween party he had been lean and defined, but during November and December he had began to fill out and approaching a heavier build. One of the trainers had demanded John to hand in a urine sample, since the gym didn’t tolerate steroid abuse among its members, but it came back negative. Concerning exercise, Aram was slightly disappointed with himself. He hadn’t improved his results at all in October and November. In December he couldn’t any longer lift the weights he was used to. He had got a bad cold then, and guessed that it could have something to do with it, but there was also a nagging suspicion back in his head, that his decreased ability could have something to do with Madame Cremorna – that is, if what she did really worked. His scientifically-inclined mind was of two thoughts when it came to the highly eccentric lady in the shop. He missed Emma. They had been an item for years, and life was suddenly missing someone he had begun to take for granted. He missed her warm presence, the scent of her hair and the funny way she giggled. Just as he thought about her, she happened to coincidentally pass by, on the way to her locker. ’Hey, Emma! How was Christmas?’ She looked surprised. Unusually surprised. ’Aram? Nice of you to ask. It was good, but nothing special. And you?’ She looked at him differently than he was used to. The situation felt odd. ’The thing we talked about in the end of the semester. There is no way for you to reconsider?’ ’Talked about? Reconsider? I am not sure that I understand exactly what you are talking about?’ ’About…’ Then it struck him, that he could remember two different strings of events – two different pasts existing simultaneously, side by side. In one of the pasts he and Emma had never been a couple. He felt strange. ’Do you feel okey?’ ’Yes, just a little bit dizzy. Thank you. See you at math class.’ ’Don’t exercise too much. I think it is so sweet of John to teach you how to exercise at the gym, but you have to take it easy in the beginning.’ * * * John had been able to indulge in two workouts a day during Christmas holidays, and the gym had been unusually sparsely visited during these weeks. He had eaten traditional Christmas dishes for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, but then returned to his highly well-planned eating plan. He had risen early the first day of the spring semester, and executed a cardio workout at the gym before school day. When he arrived to his locker he heard Peter’s voice on the other side the row of lockers: ’Oi! Swotter! I’m talking to you!’ ’Right. Now his gaze is penetrating lockers as well.’, John thought for himself, and braced himself for the upcoming troubles, but Peter went on, talking on the other side the row. What was going on? John followed the row, and peeked around the corner. Peter, Anderson and two of their friends stood in a semi-circle around Aram, tugging his laptop. ’What the hell are you doing?’, John shouted. Peter and his friends turned around. ’Oh, hello John. Don’t worry. We are just having some fun with Swotter here. Not your business.’ A feeling of unreality lowered itself over the scene. ’Not my business? After all the hell you have given me?’ ’What are you talking about? Only a fool would mess with you, meathead.’ ’Uh. That may be right, but it doesn’t change what you did just a few months ago, does it?’ ’What the hell are you talking about? We were friends in the hockey team once, if you don’t remember? Why would I roughhouse you?’ The feeling of unreality became more intense. John’s facial expression must have been weird, since Peter loosened his grip around Aram’s jacket, and nodded to his friends to leave, quickly following them. As they left the place, John could hear Anderson say: ’Did you see his face? I don’t know what he is on, but I hadn’t dared to stay in the case he got into roid rage, would you?’ * * * When John bought his winter jacket last winter, it had been considerably too large, but since he was still growing, he had expected it to fit better this winter, and anyhow it was useful to wear a jacket that would permit him to wear a warm jersey. December had been rather mild, and the snow that fell several times had melted away. After Twelfth night the weather had changed, a lot of snow had fallen, and it was now minus ten Centigrades. When he was on his way to the gym this morning, he had found that his jacket was too small, despite it had fit perfectly days before, and his jeans were too short. A lot of weird stuff was going on. His unkept hair had changed into a style with shaved sides and the remaining hair kept in thin braids covering the top of the head. Aram hadn’t believed his eyes when he saw John earlier in the day. It was the first time in his life – as he remembered the past – someone had tried to bully him, and he appreciated John’s help. John’s growth during autumn had been fast, but still within the limits of his physical constitution. It was different now. During the holidays John had grown at least a decimetre in height, and his bones must have restructured themselves. His chest and his shoulders were broader, and his hips and waist were narrower. Although Carl didn’t workout together with John and Aram every time, he had promised to accompany them at the gym today. Carl arrived with melting snow flakes on his black bomber jacket, and it took him some time to untie the shoestrings of his shiny black boots. He began to change into sportswear. John looked good in sportswear. The T-shirt was snug, but the drawstring cotton trousers were baggy enough to hide his obviously big legs somewhat. They all trained legs today, ending the workout with heavy weights in the calf rise machine. ’I feel a little bit strange, today.’, said Aram when they had returned to the locker room. ’Uhuh.’, answered John. ’I have felt strange, too.’, and tried to relieve himself from the sweatdrenched T-shirt. With a ripping sound he involuntarily happened to tear it into pieces instead. ’O shit!’, John exclaimed, distracted from the thought of any strangeness. ’It was the second time this week. I must buy larger training clothes.’ Aram stared at John. It was no surprise that John was muscular now, but the shape of John’s naked torso went far beyond what Aram had expected. Carl stared as well on the perfect traps and shoulders of John. On the perfect roundness of John’s pecs. On the valley between the pecs, continuing in a valley between his abs. Although Aram was the only one of them who knew the words for obliques, iliac furrow and serratus, Carl stared on them just as much as Aram, if not more. Carl sat down on a bench, but immediately changed his mind and left for the loo. When they were alone, Aram could manage to have a word with John. ’It must sound crazy, but it feels like reality is changing.’, said Aram. ’That’s exactly how I feel it. So it’s not only me?’, answered John. In low voices, so that Carl wouldn’t hear their discussion from the bathroom, they discussed their experiences. It turned out that they both remembered last semester – and actually their entire lives before that – in the same way: John had been short, shy, scrawny and interested in wildlife. Aram had been extremely fit, confident and brawny. John had been teaching Aram most of their schoolwork subjects during autumn. But both of them could also remember another, more dimly and vaguely recollected, past, in which John had always been built and interested in sports, Aram always had been thin and achieving good grades, and John had began to teach Aram about exercise. It seemed like the rest of the school only remembered the reality the two of them regarded as less real. They didn’t manage to continue this trail of thoughts. Carl returned from the loo, and interrupted. ’My jacket is suddenly too small. I have to buy a new one in a size that allows me to grow.’, John told them. ’Then I know the perfect store for you.’, answered Carl, and looked at his watch. ’If we hurry, we will get there in time before it close.’ They got on the tram. It was full of people on their way home from work, and the floor was wet of melting snow. John was freezing, since his jacket was too small, and he was only wearing a tight t-shirt, which felt too snug. Some people couldn’t avoid staring. John felt of two minds about this. It was a new experience. They left the tram. ’Is it far from here? I’m freezing.’ ’Who wouldn’t freeze in this weather? Although you have the look of a hard fucker who could endure anything. You know that?’ John felt flattered and embarrassed, but it didn’t change the outdoors temperature. They took left into a cobblestone-paved alley, and soon found the shop John had mentioned. It was still open. Posters for bands, mainly punk rock bands, covered the black painted walls. A clock on the wall looked like the symbol for the British Royal Air Force. From the ceiling hung the symbol of London Underground. When John viewed the room, several styles of clothes hung from rackets or were displayed on shelves, ranging from stylish overcoats and expensive lamb’s wool jerseys to the sort of provocative clothes Emelie used to wear. ’Just tell me if you need any help’, said the shop owner, who sat behind the counter with earphones plugged into his ears. ’It’s fine. I know where to look.’, answered Carl. And so he did. ’You said you need something wide, with room to let you grow. Why haven’t you considered an Alpha bomber jacket like mine?’ ’Oh. Eh. I don’t listen to your music.’ ’Lots of people use bombers nowadays, even the bloody hipsters. You have always dressed like you are shy of yourself, and I haven’t understood why. Which colour do you like?’ ’Uh. Blue.’ Carl handed him a bomber jacket in a metallic blue colour. John tried it on. It felt comfortable, and although it had lot of room for results from the gym, it didn’t look too large. John watched his own reflection in the mirror. The jacket suited him. ’It was perhaps not a bad idea after all. Do they have wide trousers as well?’ ’Most jeans are too skinny for your legs. I would suggest army style cargo trousers.’ ’Don’t you think that would look silly? Or angry? Or nazi?’ ’Last time I checked, a lot of my anti-racist friends wore cargo trousers. It’s not like the 90’s any more. Here, try this pair with city camo. But, of course, you need a pair of boots to match.’ Carl began to evaluate the shelves with boots. John found a pair of boots he liked. He observed himself in the mirror. Although covering his body, his new style accentuated his new physique, and he looked intimidating, in a way he never had before. It felt unreal and like he was doing something forbidden, but it also felt good. John payed for his new winter clothes, and they left the shop. It had began to snow again. His new jacket kept him warm. * * * Emelie sat in the school cafeteria steaming of anger. Her glass of water lay before her, its content running over the table. She tried to stop it with napkins. ’Emelie? What’s happening?’ It was Aram. Absentmindedly he used his two used napkins to stop the water from staining Emelies dress or the floor. ’Oh, sorry for the mess. I just talked to Emma.’ ’Emma? What has happened to her. She’s nice.’ Aram uncomfortably remembered Emma from another reality. Her scent. Her laugh. Sex with her. Her sense of humour. ’Emma has got a new boyfriend, and we quarrelled.’ Aram felt a short sting of jealousy, and quickly realised that he had no reason to – in this reality. ’A new boyfriend? Who?’ Emelie had the expression of an elderly aunt in an acerbic mood when she answered: ’Anderson.’ * * * It was his eating day, he tried to convince himself, when he was on his way home from an evening out with Carl and his friends. It had become a lot of comparatively cheap and unhealthy pub food and several pints of beer. The SHARPS were a friendly bunch, but had tested him initially with a rude sense of humour. John soon fell into the jargon. It was very unpretentious. The winter night was cold. Snow covered the grassy slopes, and frost glimmered from the stairs of stone up to the council-flat neighbourhood. ’It was good, Carl. I want to do it again.’ ’Workouts are good, and I admire your discipline with food – I could never manage to follow rules like that – but you got to have fun now and then, aren’t you?’ John followed Carl home. Carl’s parents had went to bed. Trying to be silent, but laughing loudly, the lads their boots and jackets in the passage, and then went to Carl’s room. ’And as I said before, there’s no hurry to become a skinhead even if you were interested. I hate poseurs just as much as the other lads.’ ’Poseurs?’ ’Yes. Idiots full of themselves, who one day decides to come in from nowhere and adopt the skinhead surface with no content. They usually care nothing about the music, and a few months later they go after another fad. They come in several flavours: There’s the racist idiots, who know nothing about skins before ’82 or about SHARP, and there’s the hipsters, and there’s the gays.’ ’The gays?’ John blushed somewhat, and tried to not blush. ’Believe it or not. Some gays think that we are hot, so they try to look like us.’ John expressed some noncommittal noises. ’Which is rather flattering in a sense, but I don’t want a fifty year old daddy panting me in my neck, if you know what I say. Understand me correct: I am all for LGB rights – I’m a leftie for God’s sake – and I am not against some skins happening to be gay. What people do in their beds is their own business. I just want people to enter the scene out of the right motives. If you hate ska or oi!, can’t take a punch, and lack a sense of style, you don’t belong. Any upper class twat can shave his head, but he will not get what skinhead is about. Nor will the idiots who only want a pretext to pick a fight. They are just poseurs, all of them. And the boneheads have no flair for style: Have you ever seen a bonehead wearing a crombie coat? And they prefer threadbare WP t-shirts before a perfect Ben Sherman.’ * * * ’You will never believe what happened during lunchtime today.’, John told Carl while they helped the melocore club moving the large loud-speakers. ’No? What happened?’, Carl asked. ’Peter asked me if he could join me training at the gym.’ ’You are kidding me. Peter is a racist wanker. I suppose you told him to go to hell.’ ’No. At first, I couldn’t believe it was happening, but he seemed to be honest about it, and it sounded like he didn’t want to hang around Anderson anymore.’ ’What if it is just a trick?’ ’I don’t know. Perhaps this could let us put some pressure on him to stop behaving like an idiot.’ ’It’s easy for you to say, John. You have never been bullied. I have seen what Peter is capable of, and it’s not pretty. For Aram’s sake, you should say no.’ The discussion was interrupted, when Simon entered the room. He gave some directions. The room was soon ready for a concert. ’I hope you stand by our agreement?’, Carl said to Simon. ’We help you with this, and your club will pay for an oi! and ska themed Saturday in two months.’ ’Yes. Yes, of course. That’s the deal. Why do you repeat yourself all the time?’, answered Simon. * * * Aram’s mother didn’t approve of his new look. He was slowly untying the green shoelaces of his boots, when she asked: ’John, you have always been a nice boy. Why, of a sudden, do you look like a nazi?’ ’Sorry Mrs A., but I don’t look like nazi.’ ’That jacket and those boots. I have heard about nazis who look like that.’ ’He’s right, mom’, Aram interrupted. ’There’s a lot of anti-racists who sport that look, nowadays.’ Mrs A. looked slightly confused. ’Back when I was in your age, only nazis looked like that.’ ’The nazis were probably the visible ones, back then. But the roots of skinhead culture goes further back, before the split between racists and anti-racists within the culture. It was originally about Jamaican music. Oi! music was added in the 70’s. The split between racist skins and anti-racist skins took place in 1982. The racist skins are seldom seen anymore, at least in this country. The far right guys went on to wear ties and suits or became rockers or were assimilated by the casuals. Actually, I don’t understand why the far right guys tried to nick a culture about Jamaican music to begin with. And by the way, I’m not a skinhead yet, anyhow. I’ve got hair.’ 'If you call that hair.' Aram’s mother still didn’t look like she knew what to believe, but began putting dishes on the table. ’I’m glad that you help Aram with exercise. He only read books before.’ ’Mom!’, Aram protested indignantly. John recognized the situation too well: What is it with parents who behave like you still are fourteen or something? John continued to chat politely with Aram’s mother, while they ate a salad of parsley and fried breadcrumbs, chicken, chickpea sauce, and olives. After the meal Aram and John went into Aram’s room. It looked different from what John could remember. The posters of hockey players had disappeared. A novena candle similar to John’s own stood in the window. Aram had two bookshelves from IKEA, filled with books about natural science, mostly about biology and medicine. John watched the books confused. He could remember how he once had been able to understand the content of books like these, but he also became acutely aware of that he wasn’t able to digest their content anymore. The world felt weird, like it changed around him. ’Aram, I need to talk to you.’, John said. ’Same here. Carl is always present when we meet at the gym, so I haven’t got any opportunity. Not since our homework Tuesdays ended.’ ’Homework Tuesdays? You do remember them? No one else seem to remember, and no one else seem to remember that you once were almost as big as I am now.’ ’So you remember, too? It sounded like you did at the gym a few weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure.’ ’You will probably not believe me, but it feels like I have lived in two different realities, and now only the better reality is left. It feel so good that the other reality has disappeared.’ ’You seem to like it?’ ’Do you remember the same other reality as I do?’ ’I believe so, but I am not sure. Why do you ask?’ ’There was not much to like in the other reality, so of course I prefer this one. You don’t have to be a genius to understand that.’ ’Oh.’ ’Oh, what?’ Aram’s eyes and eyebrows expressed several feelings, exactly what wasn’t easy to interpret. ’Oh… The thing I liked with the other reality, was my success at the gym and in martial arts.’ ’Yes. I admit that that detail must have been good for you. For you. For me that other reality was hell. Whatever is happening, it is for the better.’ ’I’m glad to hear that. Eh. Uh…’ ’What are you trying to say?’ ’John. I love science. I want to dedicate my life to science, but there seem to be some things that are beyond scientific explanations.’ ’Perhaps there are. I haven’t thought much about it, but generally people would call me a sceptic.’ ’But you can’t explain away what’s happening to us. You know that it is real?’ ’It could have been me becoming mentally ill, but not if the same thing happens to both of us independently.’ ’Precisely. I can’t expect you to believe me, but I think… Eh. Uh. Ehrm…’ Aram rose from the chair before his computer, and reached the window. ’This novena candle. And yours. I bought them from a crazy lady… No, she wasn’t crazy. She was very sane, but very odd. She claimed that you and I could have our highest wishes come true through these, but at a cost.’ ’A cost?’ ’It seems like I became a perfect science student, but losing my muscles, while you became a poorer science student, when you achieved all that muscle.’ John felt suddenly aroused. He had packed on a lot of beef. It felt good, so much better than being like he was before. But losing his skills in biology was the price to pay? To hell with biology. The feel of these… He put his right hand on his left pec and squeezed. It felt good. He rose from the bed, standing before Aram with his full height. ’Are you angry at me?’ John hug him. Aram could feel the presence of John’s muscular physique pressed against him. Aram could also feel that John’s dick was stiff, which made him uncomfortable. ’Angry? Why should I be angry with you? You have given me a gift. You could have asked first, but then I could have refused it as a bad joke, so probably you couldn’t have asked before. I love how reality has turned out to be.’ Aram looked relieved. ’Oh, another thing. Peter want to join us at the gym, but I wanted to ask you first.’ * * * Chapter three is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7668-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-three/
  9. Demon Brand Jeans

    It's Halloween night, 2009, and I'm in the car with my brother Erik heading for a last-minute costume run. He was nice enough to take me along to his yearly frat Halloween party, and I figure it would be a good time to get to know everyone… the idea of being in a fraternity (and being able to attend these wild parties I hear so much about) is definitely an appealing one. We're pretty good brothers, though I'm kind of tired of being the "little bro" since I'm only an inch shorter than him. He's 20, 6'5 and 160 pounds, not too athletic but he's got SOMETHING on his bones. I'm 18, 6'4, and 135 pounds… meat? Not so much; but I'm working on it. Erik turns to me with a smirk on his face. "Shawn, this party is a big deal, even to my frat brothers. So try not to be too much of a dork, okay?" I roll my eyes as he tousles my blonde hair, only a bit longer and a shade lighter than his own. He pulls into the parking lot, a rather abandoned place, a very small building with a homemade sign of 'Costumes' visible, the door wide open. "Not many choices the day of Halloween, but I heard this place has a ton of choices." Erik says as he gets unbuckled. "Looks pretty decrepit to me." I say with my arms crossed. I know there aren't many options tonight, but still… the place looks like I should have been condemned a long time ago. "Looks are deceiving, bro." Erik reassures as he gets out of the car. "Besides, what sort of costumes do you think we need?" I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door of the car. "Not sure, I guess we have to see what they have left." He got out of the car and moved inside, gasping softly, the small building was far larger than it looked, rows upon rows of costumes everywhere, all in individual plastic zipper bags. "Wow, we sure lucked out Shawny." He says enthusiastically as he stares, wide-eyed, at the warehouse before him. "Shawny... ugh." I roll my eyes a bit as I follow him inside only to raise my eyebrows at the sheer size of the place. It's like a costume Costco. "Whoah… this place is packed! It's like people don't even know it exists…" I turn to my side, expecting to see Erik next to me… only to realize he's already darted off looking for costumes. I sigh a bit before approaching the beginning of what were many racks to come, and start looking through. "Animals… no thanks… cartoon characters… no…" I mutter to myself as I look through the various directional signs pointing to the different sections of the store. "Hmm… ERIK!? FIND ANYTHING?!" I yell aloud, my voice bouncing around the walls of the eerily quiet warehouse. It's like we're the only ones here… then again, it's Halloween. People do this stuff in advance. "Nope." Erik whispers into my ear… I jump and turn around, Erik naturally laughing his ass off. "Son of a bitch, Erik!" I yell as I give him a punch on the arm. He knows I'm spooked far too easily. "Isn't this place amazing? It's a fucking emporium…" Erik says excitedly. "I don't know what I'm gonna get… I could spend hours here." "Gentlemen." A soft voice behind us says. Our faces turn to confused looks and we turn around to see an elderly man, maybe a little over five feet and in a top hat, tux, and tails, looking at us. "Find what you're looking for?" He says kindly. Erik speaks up, a little confused. "Oh, uh… there are so many choices, we can't really decide which costume to get. What do you recommend?" "It's hard to decide for you, sir, but I will suggest something we just got in." The old man heads into the back room behind a red velvet curtain. Erik leans against the counter as I look around the warehouse, admiring the selection. Soon enough, the old man returns with two packages. "These are Demon Brand Jeans. They're the perfect costume for men looking to turn heads at parties." The man says as he places the two packs on the counter. "Demons?" I say as I look down at the packages, one with a ripped model wearing nothing but destroyed jeans with purple skin, a forked tail, jagged wings, and black horns underneath long purple hair, and the other a near match except for aqua instead of purple. "But, how are these costumes? They just look like tattered jeans." I ask. "Why, it's the night of spirits and spectacle, sir. Use your imagination!" He exclaims. "And it being All Hallows Eve, I'll offer you two for the price of one." I look at the price tag… only 20 bucks. Erik turns to me and I look up at him and shrug. Erik turns to the man. "Sure, why not." Erik says as he pulls out his wallet and pulls out a fifty. He places it on the counter. "I don't want you to lose any money on the sale." He says with a smile. The old man smiles back and pulls out a bag. "Because of your generosity, come back any time within the next month and I'll happily let you take any costume of your choosing." He places the two packs in the bag and hands it to Erik. "But it'll be after Halloween?" I ask. "Well, you're never too old to dress up. Now, if you'll excuse me I must go back to organizing. Have a good night, and Happy Halloween to you both. Enjoy the costumes." And with that, he disappears back into the back room. "That's pretty nice, bro. Might just take him up on the offer. Let's head home and try these on." Erik heads out of the warehouse to the car, and we head to his apartment. We get home and head up the stairs, bag in hand. Erik unlocks the door and takes his jeans from the bag. "We don't have much time, five minutes to try on, ask for opinions, let me in to change and then we've gotta go." Erik sits down on the couch with his jeans on his lap. I take the bag into the bedroom and lock it before tossing the pack on the bed. I strip down to my boxers and open the pack, a slight sulfuric scent rising from the jeans. I pull them out and inspect them… blue wave patters weaved into the knees, neon blue stitching in the pockets… pretty neat for just a costume. I'd wear these regularly if they weren't so huge looking. I pull them up my legs and fasten the buckle… damn these are baggy. And made for the way more-endowed… Suddenly, my eyes change from their murky green color to a dazzling sapphire. "What the hell..." I mutter as I get closer to the mirror, trying to figure out if it's a trick of the mind, when I feel a strange surge go through my body… like a chill up my spine, but much more pleasant. I feel a bit bloated and look down… only to see my muscles beginning to rise. Suddenly, what feels like a massive blow to my chest knocks me backwards into a wall as I grunt loudly and try to situate myself up against one of the walls, my pecs pumping full of muscle, becoming square and firm as a deep crevice forms between them. I stretch up, gaining height, my torso feeling like it's ripping and contorting. I look down to see my small ridges beginning to stretch the skin of my stomach, veins suddenly bulging and snaking over them, and my eyes go wide. "What..." I say between deep breaths as I look to see my scrawny right arm begin to fill out, pulsing and lengthening as expands, a deep tingling sensation taking over as it begins to become defined, my biceps pushing out and stretching my skin. I turn to my left arm and catch the same thing happening before looking to the mirror with a horrified face. "My god…" I say aloud before looking down to see obliques framing my brick-like abs, no longer a six-pack but now an eight, my legs shaking as mass begins to build up on my thighs. I shudder as I see the previously unseen bulge in my jeans expand outward and fills the space in my crotch, my quads inflating quickly, crushing my crotch and becoming thick as an oak. My calves shape into deep, perfect diamonds, my lats widening and thickening like a solid wall of muscle and my lower back tapers into a beautiful V. I feel my legs becoming powerful like an athlete's legs... powerful like the demon on the package's legs... and I bring my hand up, trailing my powerful thighs and thick abs, between my firm pecs up to my shoulders and then over my right arm, hard biceps and forearms feeling like they're going to burst from my skin. I feel a bulge in the back of my jeans and reach back to feel a forked tail rip through my boxers and pop out of the provided hole. It slowly lengthens and swishes around behind me as two small bumps form on my forehead. I bring my hands to them just as they begin to lengthen out, forcing out of my skull and curving upward… "Horns…" I say in an unfamiliar voice, a booming, deep, and powerful voice one might hear from a demon. My hair darkens to a midnight blue and grows out, framing my face, as I feel my solid horns, the surface feeling an awful lot like volcanic rock. I suddenly hunch forward in pain as jagged wings burst from my back and outstretch behind me. I straighten myself up as my face squares off and becomes more rugged and masculine; my eyebrows arching and becoming more devilish as I suddenly sprout a goatee. I steady myself against the wall as the tingling seems to go away, and I stare in awe of my reflection. No longer was I a scrawny 18-year old guy… I was a seven foot-tall aqua-skinned muscle-bound demon! I rush to the bedroom door and exclaim "Erik!" as I open the door. Erik screams as he sees me. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!" He yells as he backs away from me towards the wall. "It's me! Shawn!" "What? Shawn?" Erik asks as he steadies himself up. He slowly approaches me. "What happened?" "It was the jeans, bro! They turned me into a demon! Feel this!" I say as I turn to him and flex my right arm, my bicep bulging out to bodybuilder proportions. Erik cautiously reaches forward and touches it. I flex it a little more for him, and he pulls his arm away and steps back with a confused look. "It... feels real..." "I think it is real, Erik... all of it..." "So... what... that costume like... changed you or something? Shawn... that's fucking crazy..." "It did! I fucking swear! Go put on yours!" "Alright..." Erik says as he grabs his jeans from the table. "Yeah, try it on… I think that these costumes are more than just outfits." Erik heads to the bedroom and goes to shut the door, and I stop him. "Uhm…" Erik motions for me to move. "I want to watch. I wanna see if it happens to you." "Okay, I guess…" Erik shrugs and begins to take off his clothes. Soon enough, he's down to his boxers. "We're brothers, it shouldn't be weird." I say with a reassuring smile, and I hand him the costume pack. "Alright… well… here we go, I guess…" Erik says, looking a bit nervous as he opens the pack and pulls out the jeans; nearly identical to mine sans purple coloring instead of blue. "They smell like sulfer…" Erik says, cautiously. "Don't worry, bro… just put them on." Erik carefully slips on the jeans and buckles them up. "They're huge, man…" he says as he turns to the mirror. I stand next to him with my hand on his shoulder. Sure enough, his eyes immediately shift from dark brown to the light purple color. He blinks in disbelief as I step away. "If you start to feel-" And with a loud grunt, Erik doubles over onto the floor. "Pain." Here it comes. "Just wait it out, alright?" I say as I move back a bit farther. He's gonna need a little space. Erik grunts a bit before sitting down on the floor, his legs stretched out, panting. He scoots to the wall as his stomach begins to reshape, tightening and flexing as his chest barrels out. His shoulders shift as they begin to bulk up, his arms following suit as his skin becomes tight and vascular, his biceps expanding and shifting between breaths. Erik shuts his eyes as his legs begin to tense, and they too begin to expand and contort as they fill out. His thighs begin to stretch, striations appearing on his skin, his quads and calves beginning to grow as well. He throws his head back, knocking his head on the wall, and grunts again as his hands grow thicker and more masculine. I inch closer to him and look down to his crunched stomach thickening and shifting as abs force their way out, his back reshaping and the V shape beginning to form, and I reach over to help him up. He grabs my hand tightly and I pull him up, his eyes still shut. His face reshapes, becoming more angular and strong as a tail similar to mine forces itself out of the jeans, and he doubles forward as wings burst from his back. His hair lengthens and turns a dark purple as horns curve their way out of his skull. He thrusts forward as his change finishes, a large bulge filling the crotch of his jeans. He opens his eyes and lets out a long, furious gasp as a goatee forms on his chin. "My god, Shawn…" He says with a far deeper and more booming voice. "What… happened?" His eyes dart from mirror to body, back and forth, as if he couldn't believe what had happened. Can't say I wasn't there at one point too. "You're a demon man… we both are. Go ahead, flex." I motion for him to flex his arms. Erik nervously looks to the mirror and lifts his right arm up before putting it in a flex… and his bicep becomes mountainous. "Holy shit dude!" I say excitedly as I go in for a closer look. Erik brings his left arm to the same position and seems transfixed… he just keeps in the position, mesmerized. "You know, you've got other changes too, man." I say as I point to his stomach. Almost instinctively, he reaches down and traces each abdominal, his face still shocked. He brings his hand to his powerful chest, far bigger than mine, and grabs his right pec before letting go, almost in shock. "Cool, right?" I say with a smile as I motion for him to stretch his wings. He smiles and his wings stretch out to full length. "Fucking amazing, bro! We're fucking huge!" Erik does a muscleman pose and it looks like something's gonna pop… he's fucking RIPPED. "My god, dude… this is amazing. I mean… we're unrecognizable…" I say as I stretch my own wings out cautiously. "I can't believe this is real. I don't know how it's real…" "I know! I don't even know how it happened… I mean, is it like, magic or something? And that guy apparently really liked us too. I mean … maybe he was like… a wizard of something." Erik stretches himself out a bit and relaxes against the wall. "I don't know… but whatever he was, we need to thank him more. We've got some badass Halloween costumes." I say with a smile. "But… it's time to head out. Should we stay like this? Or just change when we get there?" I head back towards the room with a smile, my wings returning back to my body. "Let's go as normal for now, okay?" Erik says as I close the door. "Meet me at the car with the costumes." "Got it." I say as I carefully thread my tail through the hole in my jeans and then pull them down and kick them away. I catch a glimpse at my massive package before I begin to change back, my muscles deflating and contracting back into my body, my wings, horns, and tail receding back in. I stretch as I shrink down to my normal height, my body once again returning to normal as my skin turns back to my previous golden white, the bulge in my boxers sadly shrinking. My hair lightens back up to blond and my goatee recedes, and once again I'm back to normal. I fold up the jeans and place them back in the pack, toss the pack in a bag before getting back into my normal clothes. I grab the bag and head back out to the car, a wide grin on my face… tonight's definitely gonna be one to remember. My god was it. Not a single person believed it when we told them it was us. We were the center of attention… all eyes, from the women to the guys, were on us. And everyone's faces when we stretched out our demon wings? Priceless. We partied for hours before heading home, around 2 in the morning, and we poured ourselves into bed without even changing out of our demonwear. My eyes open to a vast amount of sunlight peaking in from the windows in the guest bedroom. "Shit, man…" I say groggily, my voice booming even when tired. I reach over and grab my phone to check the time… 9:30 in the morning, early enough. I stretch a bit and hunch up against the headboard, my wings sliding behind my back, and I stretch out my arms before looking down… and there it is. Two feet long, as thick as a can, covered in pulsing veins, and barbed at the end… the most spectacular and bizarre case of morning wood I think anyone could see. It popped out of my boxers' fly and snaked its way out of my jeans. I smile, get myself up, and walk to the mirror and admire my rock-hard member. I reach over to my massive aqua endowment and touch the bulbous mushroom head, and I shudder as a drop of amber liquid forms on the tip. "Fuck yes…" I say quietly as a devilish grin appears on my face. I hunch over a bit and grab the shaft, the droplet of amber pre rolling down the side as more forms on the tip, and I slowly begin to massage my cock. I begin to grunt and moan as my free hand joins in, and the massaging slowly turns into furious jacking as I masturbate, the wet sound of my hands slipping down the pre-coated shaft filling the air between moans. I throw my head back and shut my eyes as I feel a deep pressure build in my balls, and I jack harder and harder as the pressure keeps building and building, until I feel seed rush up my shaft and roar with approval as a thick load of hot golden yellow semen spews from my cock and hits the mirror with a loud splat. I keep furiously jacking as I shoot more and more, steam rising from my demonic essence, a semen and sulfur-infused scent filling the air. My grunts and moans become quieter and quieter as my releases slow, and I collapse back onto the wall, exhausted. I open my eyes and gaze at my cock, still pulsing and throbbing as cum dribbles down the sides, and suddenly a knock on my door is heard. Shit, it's Erik… Well… it's a part of growing up, and I was seriously pent up. I heft myself off of the wall, my erection bobbing as droplets of cum fling from the head to the floor, and I open the door. "Oh…" a completely naked Erik says as he stares at my member. "Oh…" I say back as I notice his own cock is at attention salute, not barbed like mine but sharp and pointed at the tip, yellow liquid flowing from the slit. Erik sniffs the air and looks beside me to the floor, a large yellow glob of semen quite apparent, and he looks back to me. "You too?" He asks. "Wait…" I say, a puzzled look on my face. "You jacked too?" "Three times and I still can't get it down." "Holy shit dude…" I say as I move aside for Erik to come in. He walks in, his own cock bobbing as he approaches and sits down on the bed. His rock hard member reaches up his abs to the middle of his pecs. "Come here… we have a problem." Erik says as he pats the bed. I walk over and sit next to him. "What's up?" I ask. "I can't change back." Erik says as he looks down to his throbbing prick, precum still slowly trickling down the shaft. My face turns confused when I realize Erik's naked… he should have shifted back by now. "Oh my god… what do we do? How do we fix it?" "I don't know…" Erik looks back up at me. "But I think I have an idea." "What?" I ask as I shift a little on the bed. "I think…" Erik once again looks down. "You think what?" "I think we need to have sex." My eyes go wide. "What?" I say in disbelief. "Something's just telling me we have to. I mean, how else do we get rid of these?" Erik suddenly grabs his cock and another trickle of precum rolls down his shaft. I stare at my own massive prick and then back at him. "Uh… how are we going to work this then? Who's gonna… you know… take it?" Erik thinks for a bit and then lies down on the bed with a loud sigh. "You're my little brother… it wouldn't be fair for you to take it." "Really?" I say as I shuffle back a bit, next to him. "You sure?" "Yeah. But you'll owe me big." Erik says as he looks up at me, a defeated look on his face. I turn to see his stiff rod sticking straight in the air, glistening with pre, and I look back at him. Thoughts begin to enter my head as a grin appears on my face. "What's up, Shawn?" Erik asks. I scoot myself up a bit and sit on my knees on the bed. I look straight down at Erik's cock with a grin. "Shawn…" I turn to him with an evil smile. "We'll be even after this…" I turn back to his cock and open my mouth. I move closer and start licking the engorged head of Erik's cock, the taste of his seed causing my entire body to shiver… it tastes incredible… "Shawn? What the hell are you doing?" Erik hunches himself up on the bed slightly. Sensing him getting uncomfortable, I plunge my mouth onto his cock. He lets out a loud moan and lies back down, his body beginning to writhe. I massage his cock with my lips, tracing the head with my tongue as I begin to suck his rock-hard cock, his juices beginning to flow more and more. Erik grips the bed and moans louder as I begin to massage the exposed shaft with my hands, trying to take a bit more of his rigid length. I begin thrusting my own stiff prick across his cobblestone stomach when suddenly, Erik shakes and starts moaning "Fuck… yes… fuck… yes..." I feel his member tense in my mouth and brace myself as he bucks his hips, and a thick load of hot demon seed spews into my mouth, filling it. I swallow as fast as I can go, load after load shooting into my throat, dripping down his shaft as I continue, the taste driving me wild as thrust onto his stomach, pre covering his abs, when I feel my own flesh tense and I buck my own hips as a load of my own spews across his abs onto his chest. Erik moans and grunts as he releases more and more, our loads nearly matching in size, before we both begin to slow. I disgorge myself from his cock before he's done, small spurts of cum still being delivered, and I massage the rest of my own essence out onto his chest. Erik looks up at me, breathing heavily, and mouths a "thank you". I smile at him… we're still brothers after all. Our deposits slow to a light trickle, and I collapse onto the bed next to Erik. He turns his head and looks at me before turning himself over and rubbing his ass over my cock. I smile and rut into him a bit before easing my way in, the sound of our bodies slipping over eachother becoming prevalent as I enter him and begin thrusting into his tight asshole. Erik bucks and moans as I penetrate him, going in and out, somehow not tearing him up with my spiked cock, and I grab his shaft from behind and begin to jerk it. Erik's moans become louder as I grunt with each thrust, and I reach down with my free hand and pull of my jeans. Erik lets out a roar as he shoots his wad at a nearby wall, and I shudder as I rip my boxers off and toss them to the floor, pressure building in my prick, becoming more and more intense, my grunts becoming louder and louder… I grab on Erik's cock hard as I open my eyes and let out another roar as I spill into him, the feeling of my own warmth filling his ass causing me to thrust harder, yellow seed dripping down his ass onto the bed. I keep thrusting, Erik continues to spasm with each load, and suddenly… the world goes black. I lose consciousness, and gasp before I'm out cold. I gasp for air as I suddenly return to consciousness, coughing on the sulfuric smell in the air, and I see that I'm still deep inside of a sleeping Erik… only now, we're both human… yellow demon seed covers our bodies, the bed, and spots on the walls and floor. I pull myself out of Erik's ass, my cock beginning to harden as I do so, and I fall back onto the bed. I lie back with a confused look on my face. For some reason, the thought of me fucking my older brother isn't as important as the fact that having sex was what turned us human again. "Morning, bro…" I hear from a strained voice beside me. Erik flips himself over next to me, and my cock thankfully softens. I remain silent. For a brief moment, the world just seems to stop. Us two, sitting in bed, naked, covered in our own demonic essence yet perfectly human. "So I guess we need to talk." Erik breaks the silence. "Yeah…" I say, a slight quiver in my voice. "Take a shower, get dressed... and then come to the living room." Erik says as he gets up, stretches a bit, and hops off of the bed. I hear his bedroom door close, and I get up and head to the shower. I quickly wash myself off and grab a pair of boxers and a T-shirt before heading out to the front room. Erik's sitting on the couch, clad in the same. I sit on the opposite side of the coffee table, on the armchair. "So… some morning, I guess…" Erik says with a face that looks like he's expecting an apology. "I'm so sorry…" I sit myself up in the chair. "I mean… I fucking violated you, and things were so different and so wrong and I'm just so so sorry…" Erik remains silent for a few seconds before sitting himself up on the couch. "It's okay, I guess." Erik say with a slight shrug." "Okay?" I ask, tilting my head in disbelief. "OKAY? Are you serious?" "Shawn, calm down…" "I won't fucking calm down, Erik! I fucking FUCKED you this morning! I fucking sucked you off, we had sex, did all sorts of shit, you say it's OKAY?" "Last I checked, you weren't on the RECEIVING END OF IT, SHAWN!" Erik yells back. I cross my arms and sit back in the chair. "We weren't ourselves, we did things we shouldn't have, and it's bad. But no one knows, no one saw, and I guess it'll be okay." Erik get up and walks over to me. "Let's just… clean up the mess, and then we'll deal with the jeans, okay?" Erik heads back to my bedroom and I hear a sink turn on. I get up and walk in as he starts cleaning off the mirror, looking over to me with a smirk as he does so. "Sorry about that…" I say, embarrassed. "I had to get off..." "I did too. There are the same stains on my mirror. We'll get to that later, though… grab the wet vac from the closet and start getting the floors, I'll be done with this in a minute." Erik motions me away, and I head out and start cleaning up the rest of our mess. About four hours later, the apartment is as clean as it was beforehand. The stains are gone from the carpet, the bathrooms are both spotless, the mattress is cleaned, the bedspreads are freshly washed, and the walls are free of all spots. I grab the remains of my boxers and toss them in the garbage just as Erik walks in with a bag of freshly-washed pillows. "Grab your jeans and meet me in the living room." He says as he tosses the pillows on my bed and walks out. I gather up my costumes and grab my demon jeans and head to the living room. Erik's standing in front of the coffee table with his jeans spread over it. I place my jeans next to his. "So now what do we do?" I ask. "Well, we can do a few things." He turns to me. "We can get trash them, we can burn them, we can return them…" Erik pauses. "Yeah, and?" I ask. "Or… we can learn how to be clean and keep them around." I turn to Erik and see his face… it's completely serious. "What?" "Shawn…" Erik turns to me. "I'm going to be completely honest, okay bro? That was the best sex I've ever been a part of. Hands down. You're fucking amazing, and I've never had a better suck from a girl or a guy before." I just look at him with a confused stare. "I'm going to guess you enjoyed it too, considering how loud you were." He smiles a bit. I don't acknowledge the joke. "I propose we keep these around for a while, you're here for a week, and we use them whenever you're here. It can be all the time or just when we're bedding eachother." Erik walks away from the coffee table and into his bedroom. He walks out with a small Dixie cup, and shows it to me… there's a glob of yellow demon cum sitting on the bottom. "You were too amazing this morning for me to just drop into the garbage." Erik puts the cup on the table, and sticks two fingers in. He scoops up a bit of cum on each, and offers a finger to me before bringing the other to his mouth. "You know it was amazing, Shawn. And I really want to be with you like this." I look at Erik's finger longingly, and without even thinking… I open my mouth and lick the semen off of his finger. Erik licks the semen off of the other finger before pulling down his boxers, revealing a growing erection, and grabbing the demon jeans. I back away a bit as he slips them on, and he shudders as his skin begins to turn purple. His entire body shifts and contorts as it returns to demon form, his pecs and abs expanding… I begin rubbing my crotch as I become erect… his calves and quads thickening, his shoulders and arms readjusting to make room for the muscle… his hardon stretches and thickens as the tip sharpens, the purple color spreading, and a tail bursts from the top of his ass. He grabs his cock and gives it a jerk as jagged wings burst from his back and horns curve out from his skull. He offers me a hand and says "Ready, Shawn?" In his familiar booming demonic voice. I drop my boxers, revealing my respectable hard-on, and Erik suddenly gets on his knees and takes it in his mouth. I shudder and look to the demon jeans, when Erik grabs the jeans and gives them to me. I carefully slide them on as Erik gets to work, and I buckle them just as I feel pressure building in my cock. I tap him on the head and he disgorges as I begin to change, my entire body expanding, muscles stretching and bones cracking, my cock growing spikes out of the side as it begins to turn aqua, and I orgasm. A stream of normal white cum shoots out of my transforming cock, followed by another, this time more powerful. Another one, this time with an amber color, follows in increasing intensity, then one slightly darker, and as horns burst from my head and wings barrel out of my back, a load of thick yellow demonic seed hits the wall across from me as I roar with pleasure. Erik runs to the wall and licks my essence off clean before we run to the bedroom. After a day of sucking, fondling, fucking, and changing from demon to human and back, we lie back in bed together during the early hours of the morning, rubbing our human erections together. "Aren't you glad I'm here for the week?" I ask Erik as I play with his cock. Erik pulls my demon jeans on the bed and back up my legs. He tugs at my cock as it starts to turn blue. I feel the changes ripple through me again, and Erik smiles. "Hell yes."
  10. If the Shoe Fits.

    Pardon the tags... what I've written so far is mostly set up at the moment. I'd like to get some constructive feedback before I continue. Please refrain from calling out my punctuation mistakes. Otherwise let me know if I should continue. I understand that so far this plot has been done like a million different times...but honestly nowadays what plot hasn't? Hopefully you can find something unique to my story. Please let me know what you think. Also apologies for the chapters being so short...it looks longer on Microsoft. Chapter 1 I pulled into my driveway and pushed the clicker on my garage opener. As the door slowly slid open I couldn’t help but crack a smile. Suddenly a rough day at work didn’t seem so terrible. My boyfriend of eight years was finally home after a two month work assignment back east. After shutting down the car and grabbing my gym bag I opened the door to my house… and the lights were off. Of course. I could hear the sounds of battle coming from upstairs. I don’t know why I expected him to be waiting for me by the door when I got home… he’s an avid player of this sword and magic computer game he plays with his friends, and the game released an expansion three days before he got home. Of course he didn’t have his gaming computer with him so he had to wait… which I know drove him nuts. I set my bag down by the washing machine and trudged up the stairs to our bedroom. I guided myself by the light blue light coming from my partner’s computer screen in the bedroom. I entered the room quietly. His back was to me and he had his headset on. He was frantically pushing buttons and shouting commands into his mic. “Stack! Stack! Over here…. Ok fast rez this pug over here… never mind we’ll get him later. Drop your A O E and push!” I still can’t translate all his gamer jargon. I waited a couple minutes while he finished his fight. Before he could find a new bad guy to go destroy I turned the lights on. Startled, he quickly turned to face me. His face lit up. Then he turned back to his screen. “Sorry guys, I have to go, Frizzle can you command? Thanks, see ya.” He shut down his game, tossed his headset down, and then proceeded to jump right into my arms. “Oh my god, I missed you so much… my family is terrible!” he exclaimed between kisses. “I missed you too babe,” I replied. “Looks like you managed to find some shopping at least.” He pulled back from our embrace and gave me his goofy smile. God I loved him so much. I set him down so he could parade what he got. “Yeah… so you won’t believe this,” he said excitedly. “I went to this specialty big and tall store and found these!” He pointed to his feet. He was wearing an enormous pair of sneakers. They were at least a few sizes larger than my own size 15 shoes. “check ‘em out… size 20! I never thought I’d find a store that carried them!” I laughed. “You could always try Amazon you know.” Still smiling, he quickly shot me that not-amused look that I knew all too well. “You can’t see them in real life on Amazon before you buy them,” he said pointedly. “You know I like to shop for shoes.” Still laughing I shot back “yeah, well you have no problem special ordering other clothes online.” He reached up and lightly tapped me on the chest. “That’s different… Speaking of which, I got a package today that had this in it,” he said, pointing to the oversized muscle-tank he looked like he was practically drowning in. “Oh, and these.” He lifted up his shirt revealing a pair of workout shorts that looked like pants on him, and untied the waist. The large shorts fell to the floor revealing a jockstrap with a gigantic pouch. The straps hung loosely around his legs and the waist was tied to hold it on his body. He was excited, in more than one way, but of course his thin 5.5 inch cock didn’t fill the giant pouch he had literally tied around his waist. He looked back up at me grinning ear to ear. At that moment he reminded me of a puppy that knew he had done well and was waiting for a treat. “Damn dude!” I told him, playing to his fantasy. “You’re gonna be huge when you grow into those!” “Damn right!” he shot back, smiling. I knew full well there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d ever fit those clothes. I’ve heard of people gaining an extra inch or two of height in their early to mid-twenties… but at 30 years old, even if by some miracle he had a growth spurt, there was no way my 5’4”, 130 lb stud with a size 8 shoe would fill this outfit out. Still, I entertained his fantasy because I love him. As long as I’ve known him he’s been fascinated with everything big. Big height, big muscle, big cock. That’s his motto. That’s why he fell for me so quickly. At 6’5” I’m a tall drink of water, and I’m pretty proud of my bodybuilder physique (it’s so much tougher for us tall guys). With those two traits when he first saw me he went weak in the knees... but when I got him home and he got his eyes on my thick 8.5” piece of meat deal was done. He decided right then and there he was gonna keep me. I must have zoned out just thinking about how I met my man, and how much I loved him and all his quirks all these years later. Because next thing I knew he was waving at me: “Hey…hey… earth to Aaron. Are you going to stand there and stare at me all evening? I love you, but I haven’t had sex in two months. I need your ass.” As was typical when he was wearing his bigger clothes he was the top that night. Chapter 2 He really was a horny little bastard. He shot 4 loads before pulling out, and then still got a fifth off all over my face before collapsing next to me. He leaned over to the nightstand and handed me a rag. “That’s gonna feel so much better when I’m bigger,” he said nonchalantly--still coming down off his orgasm. “I’m gonna open you up like you do me…and it’s going to be awesome when I go to the gym. I’ll walk around the locker room naked with my dick swinging back and forth and everyone will want it. I’ll be buff with pecs like yours and people will ask to feel my arms too. It’ll be awesome to have you be the little spoon for once.” “I can be your little spoon now,” I reassured him. He laughed. “Haha…yeah…but no. I mean I like holding you… but I can’t sleep like that, you’re too wide I can’t reach all the way around you like I’d like to yet. I want to be able to hold you like you hold me.” “But when you’re big, how am I going to keep the other guys off you? Who’s to say that you won’t find a guy that likes your size as much as you like mine? You might not want to keep me then” I teased. He sat up and looked me in the eye: “Aaron, you’re like a shoe that fits me perfectly… I’ll never outgrow you.” He stated seriously. “A shoe? Seriously?” I scolded playfully. “Patrick… I love you but you’re a dork.” I rolled out of bed. “All right big guy, let’s shower and get to bed… you’ve got to be jetlagged.” Chapter 3 The next few weeks went by fairly routinely. That is until one Saturday morning while I was cooking breakfast Patrick shouted down from the bedroom, “Aaron, Aaron come quick!” I hurried up the stairs to see what was the matter. Patrick was absent mindedly stroking his cock with one hand while scrolling down a browser with the other. “What’s up?” I asked. “You’ve got to read this” was his reply. I began scanning the screen. It was the results of a two year research study investigating a compound that was supposed to interact with the endocrine system, inducing height and muscular changes. “This is it… I’m finally going to get big!” Patrick exclaimed. “Wait…what?” I stuttered, trying to run through the page before he got too far ahead of me. “I finally found what I need to get big like you! I told you! I told you I’m gonna get huge like you!” I finished reading the synopsis. “Hold on a sec, guy… this says the study was discontinued early because the compound didn’t have an effect on enough participants. It’s been 3 years. Even then the best case scenario is an “increase of 1-3 inches in height as well as increased musculature, penis size and rigidity”. I quoted. “Honey, you can’t get more rigid… and is 1-3 inches worth any risk?” “Like you said, it’s been 3 years, I’m sure they’ve done more research,” he countered quickly, “and yes…1-3” would be worth it.” He gazed into my eyes with such sincerity and need that I quickly gave in. “If you think it’s what you need to do I’m with you 110%... remember though its 4 injections over the course of a year, so it’s not like you can change your mind.” I said. “I’ll think about it… but I won’t change my mind. I promise.” Chapter 4 Over the next several days I became concerned. Each night when I got home from work Patrick would be upstairs on his computer. Though instead of the usual video game chatter. I’d arrive to silence. I’d wander upstairs, and Patrick would be sprawled out by his desk, head phones in, scrawling through page after page of research. He sit there in his size 20 sneakers and oversized jock, every once in a while moving enough to make a bookmark, and every few hours I’d make him stop and walk downstairs to either eat or get some water. Or anything really…just something to let me know he was still alive. One night I was sitting downstairs watching the latest episode of Gotham when he came downstairs and sat beside me. He snuggled up next to me and after a few minutes simply said “I’m ready.” Patrick managed to book an initial intake appointment a few weeks later. He was nervous, and asked that I go with him. We drove from the suburbs to the address provided, which turned out to be an historic tire warehouse building that had been converted into a laboratory. The outside didn’t look too impressive. Just faded signs painted on the walls probably 80 years ago, a Starbucks on the ground floor, and two purposefully rusty-looking doors with a buzzer and keypad to the right of them. I pressed the buzzer and a voice quickly answered, asking Patrick to confirm his appointment. He did and the door clicked allowing us entry. The interior of the building was markedly different from the outside. It was very brightly lit. Very sterile looking. At the center of the room was a large white circular desk. A young twinkish man who looked like he was maybe a freshman in college sat at the desk. As we approached the desk he checked us both out. Very obviously. He smirked at Patrick, then glanced me over and then fumbled with some paperwork on his desk as we got near. “Hello,” he said. “You must be Patrick. Thank you for coming. Dr. Stevens will be with you shortly.” He turned to me. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name, and I don’t see another appointment at this time.” “Oh no, I’m just here with him,” I replied. The twink gave us a knowing look. “Oh ok, that’s cool. Make yourself comfortable. We have a few chairs and some reading material. Do you need anything to drink?” “Not at the moment. Thank you,” I responded. Patrick finished his questionnaire and we sat down. A few minutes later I saw a man with a clipboard walk down the stairs. He was about 6’2”, with a nice athletic build and short, jet black hair. He was wearing a blue button down shirt and black denim jeans. “Howdy… Patrick?” he asked. Patrick looked up from the fitness magazine he had started to read. Introductions were made and the doctor invited us upstairs. Chapter 5 Dr. Stevens’s office was fairly nondescript. It consisted of a large oak desk, a couple chairs, a computer, a lamp, and a large bookcase full of books and knickknacks. In the center of the bookcase was an urn, next to the urn sat a tiny little barbell and a photo of a child in a wheelchair. I couldn’t tell you the kid’s age. His head too large for his body, which seemed to have little to no musculature at all. He was short, though his hands looked large. Despite all this I couldn’t help but be entertained by the kid’s beaming smile. Whoever was taking the photo obviously meant the world to this young man and you couldn’t look at this photo without seeing it in his expression. “mgm-hmm,” Dr. Stevens coughed. We all took a seat around the desk. “My secretary says you’re quite persistant, Mr.” “Patrick,” my boyfriend chimed in, “and this is my partner Aaron.” “Nice to meet you both, so what can I help you with.” Patrick looked at me for reassurance. I gave him a nod, and he began grinning ear to ear and scooted to the edge of his seat. This seemed to make the doctor uncomfortable for a moment as he shifted in his chair and shot a glance to the urn on his bookshelf. “Sir, three years ago you lead a study on the effects of a certain compound on the endocrine system,” Patrick started. “That study ended early,” the doctor interrupted. “The compound was deemed ineffective on human systems.” Patrick’s grin faded. “Yes, but it wasn’t…” “Wasn’t what?” The doctor was obviously agitated. “If you’d done your research you would have realized that the compound you speak of was only effective in less than 1% of the sample. Even then the effects were insufficient for continued funding. I’m a busy man, do you have a reason for hounding my assistant for days to get an appointment or did you just want me to read the conclusion of my paper for you?” Feeling intimidated, Patrick slouched back into his chair momentarily before standing up and walking towards the door. He was doing his best to fight back tears. I stood to join him, my heart felt heavy looking at my lover’s dejected demeanor. I could see his hope…his dream… falling to pieces in front of me. “It wasn’t a failure,” I said softly while looking straight at Patrick. “You had results. Sure, they weren’t as much as hoped for… but they were results. My partner…my boyfriend…has taken time off work, and has driven over 50 miles for an hour of your time. Sure, it’s a long shot. But from where he’s standing it’s his best shot of attaining the one thing he’s wanted for as long as he could breathe. The entire reason we’re here-- the reason he’s blown up your secretary’s phone and email. Is because he wants… he needs… to explore this opportunity.” Patrick wiped a tear from his cheek, his eyes lit up. He had his fire back. “Sir,” he stated. “Aaron’s right. The study wasn’t a failure. Please give me a chance. Even if it’s a small chance” He looked the doctor squarely in the eye. He spoke with sincerity. With need. “Someday I’m going to be big… like you and Aaron. I know it. I just need help getting there. Please help me.” Dr. Stevens didn’t move. He didn’t say anything. He stared at Patrick as though he’d seen a ghost. Finally he began fiddling with a pen. Squeezing it until his knuckles turned white then releasing it, over and over. He stood up and walked over to the bookcase. Standing in front of the urn with his back to us he finally spoke: “You don’t just stop and start studies willy-nilly. That’s not how professional research works,” he began. “But?” Patrick said quietly. “But,” the doctor turned, “my research has never really stopped to be honest. No, I don’t have any current “subjects” or “trials”, but the scientist in me still looks for the answers I know are out there. I didn’t have enough subjects to truly test out the compound I developed, and funding dried up. My old company blamed faulty research, but it wasn’t. The formula is just very specific. It only affects a fraction of a fraction of the human population—and I have developed a hypothesis that that’s because it affects a specific hormonal genetic marker that only one in several million people have. I don’t have the resources I’d need to prove or disprove that any longer.” “What happens if you get the injection and you don’t have the marker,” I asked. “Nothing,” the doctor sighed. “If it doesn’t work, you may as well have been injected with saline.” “Do… do you still have access to your old formula?” Patrick asked carefully. The doctor looked at him skeptically. “I do.” “Then may I try it?” He continued quickly, “If it doesn’t work, we’ve lost nothing. If it does, we have everything to gain. I’ll sign whatever legal papers I need to absolve you of any liability. I’ll pay you. Please. What can I offer to get your help? I'll do anything.” The pleading look in his eyes spoke louder than words. The doctor sat back down and put his head between his hands. After a few moments he looked up. “I may very well lose my license over this, but I’ll do it. You remind me so much of my brother I’d be ashamed if I said no.” Patrick was so excited his legs gave out. As he sunk to his knees tears streamed down his face. I hurried over to hold him. I’d never seen him so excited. He was shaking. “Oh my god… oh my god,” he kept repeated. “It’s gonna happen! It’s finally gonna happen!” Dr. Stevens took some Kleenex out of his desk drawer. He then picked up the phone and told his assistant to clear his schedule for the evening. He took a couple and handed them to us. He gave us a few minutes for Patrick to collect himself before speaking again. “Ada…I mean Patrick. Now since I’ve agreed to assist you and provide you with the compound, we need to discuss terms. We are going to approach this scientifically. Before we administer the first injection, I need to have you sign some disclosure and consent forms. Also, I want to run a full blood work up on you. I’m certain you won’t be allergic to the formula, I’d just like to have a baseline for your hormone levels. Also, I’m going to need to run a complete physical—including height, weight, musculature, and sexual function. Once that’s complete I can administer the injection. If you react, you should begin to notice some changes within the next three to four days. I ask that you email me if you feel any changes. In the meantime, I will provide you with a diet and exercise plan that you must follow daily. We will schedule a follow up appointment one week from today. If you’re not reacting to the formula no need to come in. If you do have a reaction we will continue to the next phase. Keep in mind that once you receive the injection it’s irreversible.” Patrick looked at me once again for approval. I nodded. “I understand,” Patrick said. “How much do I owe you?” Dr. Stephens smiled. “We’re going to do this right. For this first visit there will be no payment. If you react to the formula, each week I will provide to you a stipend to cover the full cost of anything study related.” “I thought you didn’t have funding.” I said, stunned by his generous offer. “The one exception I’m making for this project is that this particular trial will be paid out of a very special trust fund, if it should be successful” the doctor replied, again glancing at the urn. “Thank you sir,” Patrick said. “Where do I sign?”
  11. The Inheritance

    “Boys, your grandfather is coming today.” “Grampa Thomas?” asked Jeremy. “No, not your mom’s dad. My dad is coming – Grandfather Herc.” “No way!” exclaimed Pete, “We’ve never met him.” “I know, son.” “Dad, is that his real name?” asked Damon. “No, it’s a nickname he was given when . . . well, you’ll see.” “I thought you said he would never come . . . since he was off in Africa . . . or somewhere like that, doing who knows what,” said Pete, the eldest. “I knew he’d come someday, boys,” replied Brett Sorenson as he gazed at his three sons sitting at the kitchen table. “It’s the right time for him to come. I expect he’ll be sharing some news.” “What kind of news?” asked Damon, the youngest son. “I think it’s best we leave that to him. And, boys, I probably should warn you about Grampa Herc. It can be kind of a shock when you first meet him. You might actually be a little scared, but don’t be . . . he’s your grandfather.” “Why would we be scared?” asked Jeremy. “Well, it’s kind of hard to explain. Maybe we should just wait . . . I don’t want to make you nervous or anxious. He’s coming to meet all of you. He’s going to be here for a while. He’ll be here to pass on some inheritance.” “We’re all going to get money?” asked Damon, clearly excited by the idea. “Um . . . no, not money. And not all of you. One of you is destined . . . I mean, in line to get something from your Gramps.” “Which one?” Pete said, clearly expecting it to be him, since he was the eldest. “Uh, we don’t know. That’s one of the reasons Grampa Herc is coming. He will help whomever is the chosen one.” “Chosen? Is it like a contest?” Jeremy inquired – he was the largest and strongest of the three, so he wanted there to be some kind of athletic test. “No, not a contest, son. It’s a lot more complicated than that. I think it’s best that we wait until your Grandfather Herc is here. And, remember, there’s no need to be frightened.” The three younger Sorensons looked confused, but their father ignored their puzzled faces and went to his study. He was already getting very nervous about seeing his father after so many years. He was also very anxious for what was about to happen to one of his sons. ***** Brett knew his father was there before he even heard the knock. The floorboards of the front porch screamed in agony and all light streaming in through the screen door was completely blocked. The rapping on the wall beside the door was so loud a person might have guessed a wrecking ball was coming through – and Brett knew his father was knocking as lightly as he possibly could. He could imagine the older man lifting up his fist and struggling hard to tap gently – the man fully knowing the damage he could do without even trying to. Brett was in the kitchen – down the long hall, but his father’s presence was just too powerful to not be noticed. “Holy fuck!” screamed Pete – his voice filling the house – and then there was the anticipated scrambling of feet coming quickly down the hallway. Brett Sorenson immediately knew he had made a mistake by not waiting by the door – making sure none of his sons were there alone to meet their grandfather for the first time. Now, unfortunately, his eldest son came tripping into the kitchen with a face so white, you would have thought he was frozen in ice. The boy’s eyes were gigantic and his mouth was moving frantically, but no sound was coming out. He wasn’t breathing, either. “Son, calm down. Remember, it’s your Grandfather Herc. Come on, Pete, you need to remember to breathe. Take a deep breath. Come on, son, let me hear you inhale.” “So fucking huge,” Pete said in a high-pitched voice and then took a deep breath, and then he added, “Can’t fit through the door!” Brett suddenly realized he should have told his sons a lot more about their grandfather. It just seemed like they would never have believed him. He didn’t want to have them pre-disposed to thinking their grandfather was a freak. Which he was not. Well, actually he was, but the family shouldn’t view him that way. “Wait here, Pete. I need to go let your grandfather in.” Brett quickly walked down the hallway, intending to not let his other two sons meet their grandfather alone. Pete was the eldest – at twenty-three – and he had almost had cardiac arrest. Brett immediately realized he had not adequately prepared himself to see his father, either. The man’s immensity was simply too mind-blowing. Even though he knew his dad was gigantic, seeing him in the flesh made him gasp a little and stop in his tracks. Terrence Sorenson, now known as Herc, was bending his upper body over so he could see in the door – his head being more than a foot higher than the top of the frame. “Pops, don’t touch the door. You know you’ll rip it off if you do. I’ll get it for you.” “Thanks, Brett. I knocked lightly, though, son. But I think I still knocked a big chunk of wall off.” “And sent a few pictures in here flying to the floor. I also think the furniture moved.” “Sorry about that, Brett.” “It’s not your fault, Pops. Now watch your head when you come in. I don’t want you to take out part of the doorframe.” Herc Sorenson was over eight feet tall. His shoulders shot out farther than the sides of a king-size bed. His arms, alone, were each the size of a young adult male. Brett watched in awe, and a tremendous amount of pride, as his father contorted his body in ways that made it possible for him to fit through the doorway. It was right shoulder first, pecs and back brushing against both side of the frame, and the head bent so low it seemed the giant might fall over. Brett was immediately thankful for ten-foot ceilings – as was his dad. When Gramp Herc stood erect Brett again gasped a little – blown away by how huge his dad was. “Guess it’s difficult to remember just how big your old man is, isn’t it, son?” “Yes sir. You kind of defy any pre-existing expectations – even if I already knew you’re huge. How’d you get here?” “Hired a twelve seater van and asked them to remove all the seats. You should have seen that driver’s face. It was still so uncomfortable I had him stop about four miles away and I carried the thing here. Still gave him a handsome tip, though, since it gave me a pretty good workout lifting the thing up and down as I ran. I think the dude was so far gone by the time we got here, he’s probably around the corner sleeping off a big orgasm.” “Way too much information, Pops!” “Sorry about that, son. I just tend to tell it like I see it. Which kid did I freak out and send to future therapy.” “That would be Pete, the eldest. He’ll be fine. You’re just a little much to take in at one time.” “So, I guess you didn’t tell them about me.” “I warned them, but I didn’t’ give them specifics.” “I don’t think they would have believed you if you had. Which one is destined for the inheritance?” “Hell if I know. I was hoping you’d have some kind of sixth sense when you meet them. It’s really going to be hard explaining everything to whichever kid it is. It’s really good to see you, Pops. I’d hug you, but I’d like all my ribs in one piece. I’d also shake your hand, but I really like my fingers with solid bones.” “It’s okay, kid, I understand. I really haven’t learned how to curtail my strength. It’s only in Africa I can be completely free.” “How’s Great Grandpa?” “Still benching elephants and scaring the hell out of poachers daily. He won’t be stopping anytime soon. He drives me insane most of the time, but now that I can beat him in wrestling he tends to give me my space.” “Really? You can beat him?” “Look at me, son. Do you doubt it?” Brett took a good look. Herc was wearing pants that had clearly been made out of the largest pieces of khaki on earth. His polo shirt was stretched to the max, but it actually covered the man’s body. Brett remembered that his dad wore only a loincloth in Africa – like some kind of gigantic Tarzan. The clothes must have seemed so constricting. “You ever get sad, son, that the inheritance skips a generation?” Herc’s question caught Brett off guard. The younger man hadn’t thought about it for so many years. He’d been so busy raising three boys on his own – after Helen, his wife, had died of ovarian cancer. It was only now, seeing his father in front of him, that he could actually contemplate the question. “I don’t know, Pops. I’ve been so busy being a father. I guess sometimes I think it would be cool to be so huge and to be able to carry a van for a few miles, but I also know a lot of baggage comes with the inheritance. Africa is a nice place, but I’m not sure I’d like to live there.” “Sometimes I don’t want to live there, son, but it’s one of the only places I can live and use my strength completely. Here, I’d be breaking things, squeezing hands too tightly, and freaking everyone out – just like Pete. In Africa, they just assume I’m a god and I do things to make them happy.” “I’m glad it works for you there, Dad, but please know that I miss you.” “I miss you, too, son. Still, it’s some kind of concession knowing that you’ll live to be 200 to 250.” “Yeah, about that, Pops, I still haven’t told the boys. Let’s save that for later.” “Sure, sure.” “You got any bags, Dad?” “Um . . . no, just what I’m wearing. It was hard enough to get a tailor to make these. I’ve got a few loincloths in my backpack. I was hoping it would be okay to hang out I those when I was in the house. By the way, thanks for the high ceilings.” “The place was bought with you in mind, Pops . . . and, well, with what’s to be in mind, too.” “You do realize Africa is one of the only options.” “Let’s not discuss that right now, Pops. Let’s wait. I think it’s time you met the boys. Well, the rest of the boys. Try to make yourself as small as possible – I know it’s hard – but it will help. Let’s go to the kitchen. Jeremy! Damon! Your Grandfather is here!” Herc avoided the chandelier in the foyer as he moved down the hallway, following Brett. He had to duck low through the archway into the thankfully large great room that was attached to he kitchen. Brett and Herc found Pete sitting in one of the large Lazy-boy chairs drinking a beer – still shaking his head. His eyes ballooned up to the size of saucers as soon as Herc came into the room. “It’s a little too early to be having a beer, huh, Pete?” The kid just pointed to his grandfather and mumbled some words – it sounded something like ‘so huge, so huge.’ Brett looked at his father and Herc just nodded his head – as if to say, ‘give the kid some time.’ Then, as if to correct his comment, Brett took two beers out of the fridge and gave one to his father. Both Pete and Brett gaped wide-mouth while they watched the huge hands of Herc Sorenson hold the tiny bottle. Pete actually looked at the bottle in his own hand – noticing how his fingers barely wrapped around it to meet – and then he gazed at how his Grandfather’s fingers almost wrapped around his bottle two times. The poor kid let out a whimper. Another gurgling sound escaped his lungs when Pete saw Grampa Herc drain the entire bottle of beer in one gulp – the thing was like a small shot glass of liquid to his grandfather. “So, Pops, Pete is doing his Master’s in Physics at State. He’s the brains of the family. He’s so good at numbers I let him do all the finances for the household.” “Old Pete’s the smart one, hey?” asked Grandpa Herc and his voice seemed to reverberate throughout the entire house – even though he was trying his best to speak softly. “Fucking big, so fucking big…” was all Pete could respond. “You let your boys cuss like that in the house, son?” Herc asked Brett. “Only until the shock of you wears off, Dad. I think they need an outlet for their disbelief.” “Fair enough,” responded Herc. “Holy hell, are you for real?” came Damon’s voice from the doorway. Grandpa Herc stood up from leaning on the countertop of the island in the middle of the kitchen and said, “All six hundred pounds, grandson.” Herc was used to people staring in utter disbelief. He was also used to looks of fear, lust, or pure jealousy. There was something in the kid’s look that thrilled the giant man in a new way – maybe it was the fact that it was his own blood relative staring. He wasn’t sure, but the slender youngster was staring wide-eyed as if he was seeing the ocean for the first time. “You’re like a real-life morph!” Damon exclaimed. “Dad, this is Damon. He’s your youngest grandson. Damon, this is Grandpa Herc,” Brett said. “Sorry, Damon, I don’t usually shake hands or hug. I tend to hurt things when I do,” Herc said, waving a giant paw instead. “How tall are you?” Damon asked, not able to control his overwhelming curiosity. “Um . . . over eight feet tall, son,” Herc answered, and actually turned a light shade of red. “You’re the Hulk! Except you’re not green,” Damon said quickly. “He still reads a lot of comic books – even at eighteen,” Brett explained. “How bloody strong are you, Grandpa?” asked Damon. It was the first time Herc Sorenson had ever been called this. It immediately warmed his heart. He had been away from family for so many years he had forgotten what incredible feelings could be elicited from even simple words. This was his son and his grandsons in this house. He suddenly felt much more comfortable – much more at home. “Really strong, Damon,” Herc answered. “Sweet!” Damon shot back. “Can I have a beer, Dad?” “Um . . . just one, Damon. And get another one for your Grandfather,” Brett said. Damon’s immediate acceptance of his humongous Grandfather was almost baffling. He continued to steal glances at Herc, but he wasn’t freaked out in the same way as Pete, who was still sipping his beer and mumbling to himself in the chair. Damon opened the fridge and took out two bottles. He walked over to his Grandfather and held one up. His mouth dropped open wide when Herc went to take the beer. “Oh my god! Your hand is bigger than my chest!” Damon exclaimed. “Let’s compare, Gramps.” Damon held up his hand – palm facing his grandfather and fingers spread wide. Herc hesitated for a few seconds. There was something so unusual about having his enormous size accepted so easily. Damon was on fire with enthusiasm for Herc’s hugeness. It was just very surprising . . . and so comfortable. The elder Sorenson held up his palm against that of his small grandson – being careful to not push or he knew he’d send Damon to the ground. The difference was stunning – enough to make Pete start mumbling ‘huge,’ ‘enormous,’ and ‘gigantic’ all in some kind of verbal loop. Herc’s fingers were like huge salami sausages jutting from a very large skin-covered platter. Damon’s entire hand didn’t come close to covering his Grandpa’s palm. Damon let out a loud whistle and removed his hand. “That’s not a hand, Grandpa Herc, it’s a crane!” Damon said, laughing. “It’s like one of those machines they use to pick up old cars.” “Well, it’s not that big, Damon,” Herc said, turning red again – such a new feeling for him. “Pretty damn close!” Damon said, opening his beer and going over to sit on one of the stools at the other side of the kitchen island. “I see why they call you Herc. That heavy black beard makes you look like a Greek god. However, I don’t think Hercules was as big as you! Tell me, can you pick up our car?” “Um . . . yes, son, I can,” Herc answered, glancing at Brett to make sure it was okay to continue with this conversation and seeing a little pride in his son’s face. “Damn, you didn’t even ask what kind of car it was! That’s how strong you are, right Gramps? You just know whatever it is you can lift it overhead. That’s just too cool!” rambled Damon. “Okay, there, tiger, let’s not start creating a comic book called Super Gramps. Lay off on all the strength questions, okay?” Brett said, clearly starting to notice how his Dad was getting a little embarrassed – something completely new. “Aw yeah, that’s a great idea for a comic, Dad! You’re a genius. Hey Gramps, can I take a picture of you to use as a model for this new hero?” Damon said, pulling out his phone. “Damon, I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Brett said. “It’s fine, son,” Herc said, interrupting. “Sweet! Okay, flex one of those huge arms of yours,” Damon said, as he stood and backed up about five feet so he could fit at least the upper part of his grandfather’s body in the picture. As soon as Herc’s humongous arm went up into a tensed flex the three younger Sorenson’s became quiet. They were blown away by what they saw. Grandpa Herc’s arm was monstrous. The biceps stretched the fabric of his shirt dangerously near what everyone knew was the ripping point. It was like there were so many mounds of muscle on that arm that a jackhammer couldn’t have even penetrated it. Herc became aware of how the other men were so flabbergasted by his mammoth gun they couldn’t move and didn’t even seem to be breathing. Finally, Damon shook his head vigorously – as if to wake himself up from a dream – and then lifted his phone to take a picture of the flexing giant. As soon as Herc had heard the phone click three or four times he lowered his arm. Damon took a few more shots of his non-tensed grandfather and then immediately checked the pictures on the phone. “Hell, even this far back I couldn’t get all of you in the shot, Gramps. But these should be great for my drawing,” said Damon, not looking up from his phone. “Damon’s actually a great artist. He’s created a couple of series that have been picked up by local publisher. There’s probably a career for him in comic books and graphic novels. He’ll have to show you some of his work.” “You want to see it Gramps?” asked Damon, excitedly. “We can save that for later, Damon,” Brett said, “Let’s give your Gramps time to settle in. Where’s Jeremy? The middle son, Dad.” “Down in the basement lifting, I’m sure,” replied Damon. “Lifting?” asked Herc, liking the sound of that. “Jeremy’s the athlete of the family,” replied Brett. “He’s a wrestler and an avid weightlifter. He’s gotten quite big.” “Not compared to Gramps!” said Damon, laughing. “No, not compared to Gramps,” said Brett. “But, still, he’s pretty big. And I doubt anyone could compare to your grandfather.” “Not yet, anyway,” added Herc, noticing the cautious look he received from his son. Brett had moved to the door that went to the basement and shouted, “Jeremy, come say hello to your Grandfather Herc.” “Just one more set, Dad,” came a strained voice from below. A few minutes later Jeremy came up the stairs. Everyone in the kitchen area was excitedly waiting to see his response when he got his first glimpse of Herc. It was clear the young man, who was twenty-one, was really tired from his workout. He sauntered into the kitchen without really acknowledging anyone – or even noticing them. It was clear that he needed water. He took a glass from the dish strainer by the sink, filled it with water, brought it to his lips, and then turned around. It was at this moment he finally took in the behemoth about ten feet away. Jeremy kept the glass to his bottom lip but forgot to swallow – he was just too stunned. Water simply poured out of the glass into his gaping mouth and then dribbled down his chin or dropped to the floor like a waterfall. Brett quickly walked over and took the glass from is son’s hand. “Jeremy, this is Grandfather Sorenson. Pops, this is Jeremy,” Brett said, reaching up to close his son’s mouth and then he added, “Swallow, Jer.” The middle son gulped loudly – kind of swallowing, but mostly making a sound of shock. Gramps took a good look at the middle boy. He was, indeed, a big young man. He had some nicely defined muscles and clearly reveled in the fact that he was naturally athletic. Herc tried to get a reading from the kid – to see if a strong feeling in either direction radiated from him. After all, that’s why he was here. After meeting all three boys, he kind of assumed Jeremy was the one, but he couldn’t get any kind of intuitive sign one way or the other. “I’m . . . I’m . . . no longer the biggest guy in the house,” Jeremy stuttered out after a few seconds. “No, I’m afraid not, Jeremy,” Herc responded. “It’s great to meet you, though.” “It’s great to meet you, sir,” Jeremy said back to the big man – still not moving a muscle. “Your workouts are clearly paying off, son,” Herc added, trying to get Jeremy to relax a little. “Um . . . thank you . . . sir,” Jeremy answered, and the sound of ‘sir’ pleased Herc in some unfamiliar way. “I was working chest, today,” he added for no apparent reason – except that he stared at the enormity of his grandfather’s monstrous pecs. “How much are you benching, Jeremy?” asked Gramps. “I’m up to about 245, sir,” Jeremy proudly responded – but still in a slight haze. “That’s very impressive, son. Keep up the good work,” Herc said and noticed the comment helped the young man focus a little more – since he was clearly pleased to be encouraged by a bigger man. “How much can you bench, Grampa Herc?” Damon asked – scooting over to stand beside his brother. “Um . . . I’m not sure, Damon. There aren’t really that many weights where I live. We kind of have to make do with what we can find,” answered his grandfather. “Well, approximately, then,” Damon persisted. “Um, well, they filled an old bus with cement and I bench that. I would guess it weighs about 40 tons,” the elder man responded, his face blushing. If there had been crickets in the house you would have heard them loudly because of the immediate stunned silence that filled the room. Every younger Sorenson was desperately trying to get his head around what the eldest man had just told them. Visualizing the gigantic man heaving a passenger bus filled with concrete up and down was almost too much to take in. Surely it would have looked like some kind of photoshopped picture if he had produced one. No one could lift 40 tons – that was 80,000 pounds. Herc knew how hard this was for his son and his grandsons to comprehend. He waited patiently as they slowly made it through a list of emotions – doubt, fear, awe, and more. Damon, of course, was the first to speak. “And I foolishly asked you if you could lift our car! You could probably do that with one hand,” he proclaimed with astonishment written across his face. “I could, son,” Herc responded, and the shocked silence returned. “How did you get so big, Grandpa?” asked Pete, finally uttering a complete sentence for the first time since Herc had arrived and then moving to stand in line with his two brothers. “Funny, that’s something to do with why I’m here, Pete. I inherited this size and strength. It’s in our family line,” Herc said carefully, making sure he chose his words wisely and looking at his son to make sure he wasn’t treading into a forbidden area. Brett nodded his head and said, “It’s fine. I think now is a good time.” “No one really knows how the inheritance began or when,” Herc continued. “It’s been going on a long time – many generations. It also always skips a generation. That’s why your dad – and my dad – stayed normal size. One funny side note, though, is that all Sorenson men live to be about two hundred to two hundred-fifty years old.” “What?” Pete asked quickly. “Um, we’re all going to live for a really long time, son,” Brett said, looking at all three men to make sure they understood. “I’m not really forty-five. I’m eighty-five. Your mom never knew. I didn’t want to tell her. I wasn’t sure she’d understand.” “As for the rest of it, here’s the kicker,” Grandpa Herc continued, “One of you is next in line for the inheritance.” “What does that mean?” Jeremy asked, but there was a smile across his face that made it clear he had already deducted what the answer would be. “One of you is going to become like me,” Herc answered. All three boys quickly looked to their father for confirmation. Brett nodded his head and they returned their gaze to their grandfather – not to further the conversation, but to take another long gander at his body and let it sink in what one of them would become. When faced with the potential of being an eight-foot giant able to lift 40 tons, each young man did exactly what you’d expect - they got raging hard-ons. Damon’s surprisingly large penis shot rock hard, instantly, and then the other two men’s crotches caught up quickly. Brett was kind of surprised that not one of his sons became embarrassed about their arousal. They must have simply been too focused on the idea that they were going to be semi-gods. Brett, however, knew that they’d be coming back to reality soon and the thought that their father and grandfather were seeing them fully erect – even though they were clothed – would be too much. “Boys, why don’t you all sit down, so we can tell you more,” Brett suggested – knowing the coverage from the island counter would help the boys feel safe. All three sons sat down, but never took their eyes from Herc. They weren’t looking him in the face, they were too busy looking at his body – trying to conceive what it was going to be like when they were his size. Brett grabbed five more beers, placing three opened ones in front of his sons – and each of them immediately took a thirst-filled gulp. He gave one to his father and then opened his own. It was time to explain more, even if the boys were too distracted to ask questions.
  12. The Giant Football Coach - Chapter 5

    Chapter 5: Bathtub We filed out the stadium and into the locker room to shower and change into our weightlifting outfits. I was still speechless. Coach was huge at just 25 ft tall, but now at 50 ft he was downright monstrous. Would he even be able to fit inside the weight room? And how would he get around do anything? He could still fit inside the practice field, which thankfully was something like 100 ft tall, but right now he was pretty much banished from ever being inside a normal building ever again. I wondered if the physic professor was working on a way t reverse the growth and bring him back down to human size level. As I though about this an interesting though crept into the back of mind: Would Coach or I even WANT that? One of my questions was answered about and hour later in the weight room. Coach had somehow squeezed inside the big garage door and was sitting on his butt in the corner. I notice a few weight machines were crumpled by his side. I deduced that he had simply pushed some of the massive steel apparatus to the side as easily as brushing a couple of books off your desk. These were weights that we all struggled to squat and deadlift, and to him the plates were nothing more than vanilla wafers. He had pushed the equipment aside to make space to sit without demolishing the roof. There was no way he could stand up in here and he absolutely owned the corner the huge room with his muscled frame. He commanded, “ALL RIGHT BOYS, AS YOU CAN SEE I CAN JUST STILL FIT IN HERE. I'M WATCHING YOU ALL SO YOU BETTER GIVE ME 110% ON ALL YOUR LIFTS! GOT IT?'' We all nodded. “GOOD. I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO SPOT YOU ANYMORE BUT HELP EACH OTHER OUT! GET TO IT MY LITTLE BRUTES!!” Per his command we proceeded with our lifting session. By chance I ended up at the squat rack that was closest to Coach, thus he had his eye on me the whole time, booming down pointers. While squatting he corrected my form. “JACKSON, WHILE YOU ARE SQUATTING MAKE SURE YOU KEEP YOUR CHEST PUFFED OUT AND LOOK UPWARDS. THAT WILL KEEP YOUR BACK STRAIGHT...LIKE THIS,” While still sitting, he arched his back made his gigantic pecs leap to attention as he thrust his chest forward. His pec shelf heaved upward, becoming a full awning of pure muscle hanging over his brick covered muscle gut. “YOU REALLY WANT TO PUSH YOUR CHEST OUT. PRETEND YOU'VE YOU GOT PECS LIKE I DO AND YOU REALLY WANT TO SHOW THEM OFF! HAHA!” He chuckled and I joined him. “Will do Coach. I dream of having some huge pecs like you someday!” “YOU KEEP WORKING HARD, JACKSON AND YOU JUST MIGHT!” Coach extended his arms and brought his hands together, squeezing his pecs and making them bunch up toward his chin again. He was looking down at them, admiring his own size and power. I took his advice and began squatting with my form corrected. I arched my back, puffed out my chest, and made sure to look upward as I performed the movement. Through looking upward into the mirror in front of me, I could Coach's handsome face watching me intently. Knowing he was watching and motivating me on, I set a new personal best that day! Not only on the amount of weight I squatted but in the number of reps! As I racked the weight I turned around and nearly fell to the floor due to the pump in my legs. “GREAT JOB JACKSON! YOU ROCKED THAT SET, LITTLE MAN! YOUR CHEST LOOKED HUGE AS YOU WERE SQUATTING, PERFECT FORM!” I was relishing the big man's praise. There is nothing more satisfying than pleasing your giant, muscled football coach with your effort. I beamed up at him. “Thanks, Coach! You mean this chest! GRRRR!!!” In jest I brought my fists together and made a crab pose at coach. He lit up, entertained by my display. “YEAH JACKSON! DAMN, MY LITTLE BRUTE, YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME LOOK SMALL SOON! GRRRR!” Coach brought his fists together and made a crab pose himself, completely demolishing my pose, but all in good fun. “JACKSON, WE ARE PRACTICALLY TWINS WITH OUR HUGE MUSCLES, AREN'T WE!” “Hell yeah, Coach! Two huge muscle Brutes!” Both Coach and I laughed uproariously. He was not only a fantastic leader and motivator, but was just such a pleasure to be around all the time. “GREAT WORKOUT MEN. NOW IF YOU'LL EXCUSE ME I HAVE TO HEAD BACK TO THE FIELD HOUSE TO TALK WITH THE DEAN. AS YOU CAN IMAGINE, MY NEW SIZE IS GOING TO BRING ON SOME NEW CHALLENGES. NOT ONLY FOR ME, BUT THE SCHOOL AS WELL. WE WILL BE HAVING A TEAM MEETING IN THERE AT 7:30PM SHARP! SEE YOU ALL THERE.” With that, we opened the garage door for him. Our captain then got on his hands and knees and crawled through the opening like a child squeezing through a dog door, giving us a shot of his gigantic muscled ass stretching his gym shorts to the limit. We broke from our lifting session and showered. I headed out for the one late afternoon class I had that day. On the way I was again approached by a reporter. I recognized him as one of the TV anchors from the channel 11 news. “Excuse me, could I talk to you? Would you mind providing us with some insight on the situation with your coach?” “I'm late for class, I really can't talk.” He again stepped in front of me. “If I could just speak to your for 5 minutes I...” “EXCUSE ME SIR!” I said with irritation. I sidestepped him and hustled to class, leaving him muttering at me as I quickly walked away. Later that evening, I had finished my homework and then dinner early so I walked over to the field house about 20 minutes early. I stepped in inside the cavernous room and saw Coach standing over a tiny looking man in a brown suit. As I got closer I realized it was the dean. Coach saw me and waved me over as he continued his conversation. “...and we have some contractors already working on putting together some new furniture for you, Mr. Wood. We certainly are doing our best to make your comfortable. Some more mattresses will be delivered later this evening to give you at least some sort of comfortable sleeping space. I've also enlisted some help from the theatre department to come with some more clothes. I understand you have been wearing the same clothes for the last three days.” “THANK YOU DEAN. IT WOULD BE GOOD TO GET SOME SPARE CLOTHES. AS ACTIVE AS I AM, I AM AFRAID I AM GOING TO BUST OUT OF THESE CLOTHES AT ANY MOMENT. I THINK I MAY ACTUALLY BE GETTING SLIGHTLY MORE MUSCULAR AS I GROW. THESE SHORTS AND SHOES HAVE NEVER FELT SO TIGHT.” Coach put one leg out in front of him and FLEXED the massive quadriceps, filling the shorts legs to their bursting point. “MY LEGS ARE LOOKING PRETTY MASSIVE, AREN'T THEY, LITTLE DEAN?” Coach grinned, fishing for praise and having some fun with his supposed 'superior'. “Ye...yes, Mr. Wood. Your development is quite remarkable.” I notice the Dean seemed to be holding his hand together in front of him. I correctly guessed he was trying to hide his arousal at the site of the giant shirtless muscle hunk in front of him. One the Dean had calmed himself, he changed the subject. “Also, Mr. Wood, as I'm sure you are aware it is getting increasing difficult to hide a man of your stature. News has already leaked out that you have grown. We will obviously need to address this.” I piped up, “Yeah, Coach. Me and bunch of the guys keep getting headed off by reporters anytime we trek across campus.” Coach Wood's face scrunched in disapproval as I said this. “Yes, I've heard that as well,” the Dean added. “So, Mr. Wood, normally your pre-game press conference would be on Friday. I suggest we move it to tomorrow morning and then you can address the press as well.” The Dean meagerly looked way up to Coach who had now crossed his arms which only made him look more intimidating. “That is...um...if it's OK with your, Coach, sir.” I chuckled a bit to myself. Here was the Dean, perhaps the only man who previously had power over Coach, and here we was groveling like the a beta male. Coach smirked down at the Dean. He uncrossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders, putting the Dean at ease. “I SUPPOSE, LITTLE MAN. HELL, I'M SO DAMN BIG IT'S PROBABLY BETTER TO GET THIS OUT IN THE OPEN. ESPECIALLY IF THOSE REPORTERS KEEP MESSING WITH MY PLAYERS. THAT WILL END AFTER TOMORROW MORNING.” Coach said this last part with an aggression that even made me nervous. “SO WE'LL HAVE THE PRESS CONFERENCE AT 9:00AM TOMORROW MORNING, IN HERE. THIS IS THE ONLY BUILDING THAT CAN FIT THIS HUGE BRUTE BODY.” He quickly brought his arms up into a double-biceps pose, grinning smugly at the Dean who once again was futility trying to cover up his small tenting crotch. By now, other players were beginning to file into the practice field. “NOW IF YOU'LL EXCUSE ME, DEAN, I HAVE A PLAYERS' MEETING TO RUN. THANK YOU HAVE A GOOD NIGHT.” The rest of the meeting went as typical. Well, as typical as it could with a giant booming head coach leading the discussion. About an hour later we had finished and were dismissed. However, as the older players were filing out Coach singled me out and requested I come back to see him in about two hours. I wondered what for as I headed back to the my room. Two hours later I found myself back in the field house. As Coach saw me enter he waved me over to his little living space. The carpenters had indeed brought him some crude furniture. A huge bench to act as a chair, a couple of standing shelves, and even a small (to him) desk. As I neared he got off his bench and planted his big bulging ass on the turf with a loud thud. “I THOUGHT I'D TRY TO BRING MYSELF CLOSER TO YOUR LEVEL TO TALK. I'M SORRY THAT YOU HAVE TO LOOK UP SO FAR AT ME WHEN I SPEAK. IT'S JUST THAT YOU GUYS ARE SO LITTLE COMPARED TO ME. MAN, I CAN'T BELIEVE I WAS EVER THAT SMALL. EVEN THOUGH IT'S ONLY BEEN A COUPLE OF DAYS I FEEL LIKE I'VE BEEN A GIANT FOREVER. AND...TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH, I LOVE IT!” Even at his lowered level he still towered over me. “Well, Coach, you've always been a really big guy, even at your normal size, so you sort of have always been a giant. You've always been bigger, taller, stronger, more powerful than most people so what you are feeling is completely natural, just on an exaggerated level.” “I SUPPOSE YOU'RE RIGHT, JACKSON. THAT'S WHY I LIKE YOU AND I RECRUITED YOU. YOU'VE GOT ONE OF THE BETTER HEAD'S ON YOU TO GO WITH YOUR ATHLETIC SKILL, MAKES YOU A TRUE ASSET TO MY TEAM.” I couldn't help but blush a bit as he complimented me. “BUT, I HAD YOU STAY BEHIND BECAUSE I NEED HELP. SINCE I GREW AGAIN TAKING A SHOWER IS OUT OF THE QUESTION. I'M SURE YOU CAN TELL I'M SMELLING A BIT RIPE.” I could tell. All the team could. At his new size, Coach's musky essence, a combination of testosterone, sweat, bar soap and deodorant was impossible to miss. I washed over us as soon as we walked into the field house. But it wasn't a gross smell. It was the smell of a true man. A powerful, masculine, alpha male. It suited him perfectly. Coach continued, “I WAS HOPING YOU COULD HELP ME SNEAK OVER TO THE CAMPUS POOL. I NEED TO WASH BUT I DON'T EXACTLY FIT IN A BATHROOM ANYMORE.” I nodded my head. That was the understatement of the year. Coach went on to explain the plan. The field house was only about a block away from the campus pool. It was now 10:30pm and the pool had been closed for about 30 minutes. Luckily the pool was in the back of the rec center nestled in the corner of two large gymnasiums which had no windows. Unless someone went out of their way to specifically look at the pool we should have complete privacy. “Ok Coach I can stand lookout for you.” Coach thanked me and began shucking off his clothes, again giving me a glimpse of his gargantuan dick. He wrapped a sheet around his waist like he did last night and grabbed a couple more sheets to act as towels. I raised the garage door to the field house and looked outside in the night air. No one was in sight. I ventured out about 50 yards, looked around and saw nobody. I waved Coach out. He bear-crawled out of the garage and stood up to his full height and look around himself, spotting no one. Luckily the field house and the gyms were all tall enough that no one would be able to spot his towering head from the main road on the other side of the building. I played the lookout as we made our way to the pool. As he casually walked toward me he looked like a Olympian god with his toga sheet hanging around his waist, all huge and muscled and lit up by the light posts. A couple of minutes later we were at the chain link fence surrounding the pool. “How are we going to get in?” Coach just chuckled and gingerly stepped over the fence as easily as I would be able to step over a felled log. I felt really stupid as he did so, smirking down at me as he easily stepped into the pool area. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE SMART ONE OF THE TEAM?” Coach joked. “But how am I going to get insi-” Before I could finish Coach reached down over the fence with his brawny arms and wrapped his enormous hands around my waist. His fingers easily met as he encircled my torso. Stunned, I felt my feet leave the ground as I rocketed up to 40 ft above ground. I gasped as I felt like I was on a carnival ride. I instinctively grabbed onto the his enormous hands. “EASY LITTLE GUY. I AIN'T GONNA DROP YOU.” Coach held me at arms length right in from of his massive heaving pectorals. “I COULD EASILY HOLD YOU WITH JUST ONE HAND, BUT I DIDN'T WANT TO FREAK YOU OUT TOO MUCH.” “Than...thanks, Coach,” I stated warily. Regardless of being in possession of the biggest, strongest man in history, it was still natural to realize you are hanging 40 ft above the ground. As I stared up at his big handsome face though, I began to relax, which he noticed. “THERE 'YA GO. NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT WHEN YOUR BIG BRUTE COACH HAS A HOLD YOU. YOU ARE PROBABLY IN ONE OF THE SAFEST PLACES ON EARTH RIGHT NOW, WITH ALL THIS MUSCLE PROTECTING YOU,” Coach emphasized this point by bouncing his titanic pecs right in front of me. It was mesmerizing to watch the mattress-sized slabs of muscle tighten into a hundred individual fibers, then rise and fall as he demonstrated his expert muscle control. “ALRIGHT I SUPPOSE I SHOULD PUT YOU DOWN. ALTHOUGH I COULD HOLD YOU FOREVER. YOU FEEL LIGHT AS A FEATHER TO A BIG MAN LIKE ME!” Coach set me back on the ground. He then whipped off his sheet, once again exposing his colossal manhood to me. I feel my own dick and balls shrivel up a bit due to the totally emasculating size difference. Coach the gingerly stepped into the 5 ft deep section of the pool. The water barely covered his ankles. The deepest part of the pool was 12 feet deep, which would be about the same depth as a bathtub to a normal sized human. Coach then sat down with his ass in the deepest part of the pool. As he sat the pool water surged upward and overflowed the pool, soaking my feet. Luckily, he set his towels/sheets on the lifeguard chair so they remained dry. Coached leaned back against the deep-end wall, his legs extending half way toward the shallow end, and sighed in relief. “AWWWW. THAT FEELS SO GOOD LITTLE BUDDY. I DON'T MIND BEING SWEATY BUT AFTER TWO DAYS IT'S NICE TO RINSE OFF. PROBABLY GOOD FOR EVERYBODY AROUND ME TOO, HAHA.” Even though he didn't have any soap, he reached over and grabbed his toga sheet and proceeded to scrub up and down his body with it. He leaned back and completely submerged his head underwater, again raising the level of the water to the very lip of the pool. “WOO LITTLE GUY. I NEEDED THIS. FEELS GOOD TO BE CLEAN AND TO JUST COOL OFF A BIT. TOO BAD I'M SO HUGE OR I WOULD DO SOME LAPS. I LOVE SWIMMING, IT'S A GREAT WORKOUT. HOW ABOUT YOU, JACKSON?” I stood on the side of the pool near the deep-end and as we conversed. “Oh yeah, Coach. I love swimming too. I was a lifeguard in high school.” “WELL I GUESS I'M IN NO DANGER TO DROWN WITH YOU HERE THEN, RIGHT?” He chuckled at his joke. “SAY IF YOU LOVE SWIMMING SO MUCH, WHY DON'T YOU JOIN ME?” “Oh no, Coach. I'm keeping watch, I couldn't possibly-” He suddenly shot out his long arm, reached behind me and pulled me forward into the pool, gym clothes and all. I came back up to the surface spitting and sputtering. “Hey!” “HAHA! RELAX JACKSON, WE'RE JUST A COUPLE OF MEN ENJOYING THE POOL. I KNEW YOU'D BE APPREHENSIVE SO I THOUGH YOU COULD USE A NUDGE.” “A nudge? I don't think you are capable of nudges, any more, Coach!” Coach laughed again as I hauled myself up onto the ledge of the pool. “WELL, YOU'RE ALREADY SOAKED, SKIM DOWN AND JOIN ME FOR A SWIM.” I began shucking off my wet clothes. Luckily I was wearing flip flops so I wouldn't have to worry about soggy shoes. I got down to my underwear and stood up to dive back in.” “COME ON, JACKSON. WE'RE ALL MEN HERE. TAKE OFF THOSE SKIVVIES, YOU AIN'T GOT NOTHING I HAVEN'T SEEN BEFORE. BEEN IN LOCKER ROOMS MY ENTIRE LIFE.” I relented, slid down my boxer-briefs and stepped out of them. “THERE YA GO. NICE PACKAGE, LITTLE BRUTE. YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF IN THAT REGARD.” As he complimented me I blushed and quickly dove into the water, desperate to hide my own equipment. I resurfaced and saw Coach smiling back at me. “The water sure does feel good, Coach.” I proceeded to swim up and down the side of the pool for a few of laps, enjoying the stretch and feeling of gliding through the water. I stopped and grabbed the wall in the deep-end to rest. “I CAN TELL YOU WERE A LIFEGUARD. YOU'RE A GREAT SWIMMER. IF YOU WEREN'T SO GOOD AT FOOTBALL I'D SEND YOU OVER THE SWIMMING TEAM.” I thanked the Coach for his kudos. “I MEAN IT, JACKSON, YOU ARE NATURAL IN THE WATER. SO SMOOTH. YOUR SEXY BODY GLIDING EFFORTLESSLY THROUGH THE WATER...” “What the hell did Coach just say?” I though to myself. “Did he just call me 'sexy'?” Coach trailed off and I noticed he sighed heavily and tilted his head back. His eyes rolled up as he exhaled. I pulled myself up on the ledge of the pool and watched his mammoth chest slowly heave up and down. I noticed one of his arms was under the water down by his crotch and then I realized. Coach was totally getting off! He moaned loudly, the basso-profundo power of his voice reverberating through my own chest. Coach opened his eyes and saw me staring, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. His face turned red as he blushed. “SORRY JACKSON. SINCE I'VE GROWN I'VE OBVIOUSLY BECOME TOO BIG TO GET LAID. I HAVEN'T GOTTEN ANY IN FIVE DAYS NOW AND I'M PENT UP.” I sat there stunned for a couple of reasons. One, Coach was such a testosterone filled stud that he was used to getting laid within every four days or so. And with his status as a local celebrity, not to mention being one of the sexiest, most handsome, most masculine men on the planet it wasn't hard to believe that was true. The most stunning thing, though, he called me 'sexy'!! I finally found the words to speak as his giant eyes bored into my own. “Coach, you called me sexy? Are you...are you GAY?” Coach just chuckled at my question. “GAY, STRAIGHT, THEY'RE ALL JUST LABELS, JACKSON. AND A BIG, POWERFUL MAN LIKE ME JUST CONSTANTLY NEEDS TO FUCK OR ELSE I'LL GO CRAZY. DOESN'T MATTER, MEN OR WOMEN...” Coach was clearly now full on fondling himself under the water. Just a couple of moments later I couldn't believe my eyes. His hard dick began to rise out of the water! And it was HUGE! I mean, yeah it was huge because it was attached to a 50 ft tall man, but even if he were normal height his cock looked like it would be almost a foot long! I gasped when I saw it. “SORRY JACKSON I'M JUST SO AROUSED I CAN'T HELP IT. AND BEING THIS HUGE AND POWERFUL HAS ONLY BEEN MAKING ME HORNIER. I'VE GOT TO TAKE CARE OF THIS.” I watched in awe as his dick continued to inflate, bigger and bigger as he stroked himself. And it wasn't just long, it was FAT. I couldn't believe my eyes. “Holy shit, Coach. You are hung like a pornstar!” Coach grinned cockily at me, soaking in not only the pool but my praise. “THANKS LITTLE GUY. I'VE ALWAYS BEEN BLESSED IN THE SHORTS, YOU COULD SAY. IT'S A BLESSING AND A CURSE. I'VE SCARED AWAYS SEVERAL MEN AND WOMEN WHEN THEY SEE THIS MONSTER. BUT, EVEN IN THOSE SITUATIONS IT MADE ME SO HORNY TO KNOW THAT I WAS SO HUNG IT WAS SCARY, HAHA!” Coach began tweaking his nipples with one hand while stroking the fleshy tubular beast with his other. By now I too was rock hard, something that didn't go unnoticed by Coach. Coach smirked at me and asked, “WELL WELL WELL, JACKSON. DO I HAVE A LITTLE GAY BRUTE ON MY TEAM, HE HE,” he teased. “What!?!? No! I'm straight!” Truthfully I was straight. Or at least I thought I was. But there was something about watching this ultimate man in front of me play with his gargantuan muscles and dick. I don't think anybody on earth would not be aroused by what I was seeing. Mother Teresa would've been fingering herself at the sight. Coach snickered watching me panic. “I'M JUST MESSING WITH 'YA, BUDDY. AGAIN, GAY, STRAIGHT, IT DOESN'T MATTER TO ME. WE'RE RED-BLOODED FOOTBALL BRUTES, WE JUST WANT TO PLAY FOOTBALL, LIFT WEIGHTS, EAT AND FUCK! OOOOOOOHHH.” Coach was moaning more now as he stroked himself. He was now at full mast and it was astounding. “Jeezus, Coach! You are so...so...HUNG! How big are you?!” I couldn't help but ask. At full erection, his dick now looked to be longer and I was tall! “HE HE, YOU A LITTLE SIZE QUEEN OR SOMETHING?” I blushed red with embarrassment. “I'M JUST JOKING. EVERYBODY WHO SEES THIS WANTS TO KNOW HOW BIG IT AS. AND WHO CAN BLAME THEM! WELL, BUDDY, WHEN I WAS STILL A TINY 6 FT 6 MAN I WAS 11.5 INCHES LONG. DOING SOME QUICK MATH, AT MY NEW HEIGHT I'M...WELL-” I beat him to the punch my own calculation. “That's over SEVEN AND QUARTER FEET LONG!” I shouted. “Like, around seven feet, four inches! Holy crap!!” “OH YEAH, JACKSON. I LIKE HEARING THAT. KNOWING MY MEGA-DICK IS NOW TALLER THAN ALL BUT JUST A TINY FRACTION OF THE MEN ON EARTH. IT MAKES ME FEEL SO, SO BIG AND STRONG.” Coach was stroking faster now and he began writhing in the water, making small waves crash up against the sides of the pool. I was now full on stroking myself too on the side of the pool. “OH YEAH LITTE BRUTE. JOIN ME. IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I'VE HAD A MUTUAL JACK-OFF SESSION WITH A BUDDY!” I was stroking my own respectable 7-incher and really getting into it with Coach. I imagined him plowing some big-titted bimbo. And then I also pictured him fucking a big studly lineman. Thinking about how both the bimbo and the lineman would be crying out from being invaded by a 11.5 inch monster dick. Only now that monster dick was over 7 feet long! Coach was obviously nearing the point of no-return. “OH SHIT, JACKSON, YOU'VE GOTTA HELP ME OUT!” I wondered what he meant by that. He suddenly reach over the side of the pool and wrapped one his giant mitts around my waist, being careful not to squeeze me too hard while in his sexual frenzy. He picked me up and plopped me down on his pubic region, right at the base of his cock! His crotch was about 1 ft under the water and my feet splashed down onto his soft skin. Facing the colossal manhood in front of me, I noticed my eyes were just below the corona of his dickhead! “PLEASE HELP ME OUT JACKSON. SEEING YOUR SEXY JOCK BODY LOOK SO TINY NEXT TO MY DICK IS DRIVING ME NUTS. HELP YOUR OLD COACH OUT, STUD!” I couldn't resist him. I reached forward and wrapped my arms around the seven foot long tumescence in front of me. It was about one and half times as thick as a telephone pole. I rubbed my chest up and down the enormous log. Tracing the rolling pin-size veins that traversed up and down the shaft. “OH YEAH, JACKSON. THAT FEELS SO GOOD. USE ALL YOUR MUSCLES TO HUG AND SQUEEZE MY HUGE COACH COCK.” With Coach's encouragement I went all out. Bear hugging it as hard as I could, rubbing my entire torso up and down the huge fleshy pipe. At one point I turned around and rubbed my back and ass up and down his dick, while we stared into each others' eyes. He glazed eyes watching me lustily from over the top of this mountainous chest muscles. He smirked down at me. “YOU MIGHT WANT TO BE CAREFUL PRESSING YOUR ASS AGAINST MY DICK. I MIGHT TRY TO SHOVE IT IN YOU, LITTLE MAN.” I blanched in fear, which only made Coach chuckle. “JUST KIDDING, STUD. THOUGH I REALLY WISH I COULD RIGHT NOW. OOOOOHH. THAT FEELS SO GOOD. I'M GETTING SO CLOSE.” At this point I turned back around, re-hugged his cock and ground my own throbbing erection into his flesh. “OH YEAH, JACKSON, THOSE SQUATS ARE REALLY WORKING FOR YOU. WATCHING YOUR ASS FLEX AGAINST MY COCK IS SO HOT. AHHHH!!! ALMOST TIME, LITTLE BRUTE!” When I heard this I really poured on my stimulation. I even wrapped my arms and my right leg around the rock hard shaft. Then, as I held on as hard as I could I lifted my other leg and wrapped it around his giant cock too! My entire weight was being held up by his dick! “OH DAMN, JACKSON! MY DICK IS SO POWERFUL IT CAN HOLD UP AND ENTIRE JOCK STUD!” He reached forward and begin twisting his dickhead, his massive ripped forearms hovering above me. He then began bucking his hips, making me me rise and fall like I was a horse on a carousel. I ground my rock hard cock as hard as I could into his colossal cock and erupted with a stifled yell of my own! Not five seconds later I felt his massive dick swell, pushing my arms and legs out even further. He moaned, low and deep, trying his best to keep from drawing attention to the supposed deserted pool area. I looked up and saw a geyser of white cream shoot up from his dick as he orgasmed with the force of bundle of dynamite. The white jizz must've shot up 50 ft into the air before it began to rain down on us. A couple of huge globs fell on my shoulders, coating one half of my torso with his essence. “OOOOOOO YEAHHHHH! SO FUCKIN' POWERFUL...” Coached moaned in pleasure behind me. Seven or eight more spurts followed, each just as powerful as the first one. Coach was a complete stud. The perfect specimen of manhood. Finally, after what seemed like a full minute, Coach's eruption died down and he relaxed and sighed with a chuckle. “WOW JACKSON, THAT WAS ONE OF THE BEST JERK OFF SESSIONS I'VE EVER HAD! BEING THIS HUGE IS AWESOME. THANKS FOR HELPING ME OUT LITTLE MAN. IT LOOKS LIKE YOU ENJOYED IT AS WELL, HEH HEH.” I nodded up to Coach leaped of his pubic region and into the deep water to rinse the white slime of me. I resurfaced and swam to the side. Coach sloshed up huge waves of pool water onto his ripped, hairy torso to wash his cum off himself as well. Once he was satisfied he stood up out of the water and onto the concrete. I watched as the water level in the pool feel by 2-3 feet as he stepped out. I wondered what the lifeguards would think tomorrow when they saw the low level of the pool. There were also clumps of his white jizz floating around which I pointed out. “HM, I SUPPOSE WE SHOULD DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT,” Coach said. He looked around and saw some 5-gallon buckets of chlorine outside of the fence. He reached over and pinched a couple the buckets and set them near. “JACKSON, WOULD YOU MIND WALKING AROUND THE POOL AND THROWING IN SOME EXTRA SCOOPS OF CHLORINE? THAT WILL HELP DISSOLVE THE EVIDENCE.” “Sure thing Coach.” I complete my task as Coach dried himself off with one of the sheets and then wrapped the other to cover himself up. My gym shorts had dried enough that I was able to wear them as we made our way back to the field house. With all of Coach's moaning and just pure size I was surprised that no one had heard or spotted us. Coach thanked me for helping him out with a sexy smile. I departed from the field house and made my way back home, excited for the what the next day might bring. ************************************************************************
  13. Magic isn't real (part 1)

    Oh, hey. Sure, you can buy me a drink. Thanks. Hmm, you think there’s an aura about me? Why do you say that? There’s something about me that seems different…that, feels different? Yeah, let me explain some things. Some of you would call it magic, or godly powers, or something stupid like that. Not saying you’re stupid, but the ideas are. Kinda. You hear of these people who can squat 1000 lbs, or have 20 inch biceps, or cannot get sick, or something else that seems cool that you wish you can do…and then you try to figure out how they did it. Those things fall, sorta, within the normal realm of human possibility. But what about those people who get hit by a truck and survive? What about those people who somehow hit growth spurts in their 30s and 40s and gain inches…everywhere? What about these people who seem to fly, or can lift anything they want, or cum a gallon or more? That shit is clearly made up, right? Or, as we humans like to attribute such things, it’s clearly the work of magic? Y’all watch those Avengers movies and think that’s all made up, because it can’t be real…. I’m here to let you know that it’s not magic. It’s science. And I tell you that because I’m one of those…well, freaks, if you will…and I know how I do what I do. You see, I have a gift. It took me a while to figure out my gift, but I got it none-the-less. I’m calling it a gift because it’s actually possible for any of you to do this – but, for whatever reason, I can and you can’t. I have the ability to change your body to, well, a lot of things. Not everything. I can’t make you a fish, and I can’t make you 30 feet tall, and I can’t make you sprout an extra cock. I’ve tried, it doesn’t happen. Without going into too much detail, we are the product of two things: the environment around us, and our genetics. Nothing is one hundred percent one or the other. Why are you short? It could be your genes, but it could also be your environment. It could also be both, which sucks, but such is existence. I can’t do much about the environment, but I have the ability to influence your genetics. No, I don’t rewrite your body’s genetic code, but I can mess with your genes’ expression rates. There are these funky chemicals we give off, called pheromones, that help dictate gene expression. Again, I don’t understand this part, but I can control which pheromones and gene regulators I secrete into the environment around me. You sniff them in, you absorb them through your skin, and boom. I am now changing your genetics. The skin’s the best, though – direct contact. I’m also pretty good at detecting pheromones, which is weird for guys. We don’t typically pick up on this stuff as well as women do. That’s why they’re always ‘oh, I have a bad feeling about this person,’ and all that catty shit. They’re reading pheromones. Maybe it’s because I can deal ‘em, I can detect levels of pheromones being given off. Some of them are hormones excreted by your skin, which aren’t in high doses, but I can tell. Yeah, I can sniff if someone’s in heat or got performance issues or even if a person’s got cancer. That lady over there, talking to that guy who wants nothing to do with her? Her FSH is off – the – chart. Oh, you don’t know what that…nevermind. I don’t know how many of you took high school biology, but let’s summarize a whole lot of shit you don’t remember succinctly: fucking with genes takes a long time, because there are lots of things going on. If I walk past you and release the chemicals to make your muscles grow, you aren’t going to gain 30 pounds in the next three seconds. That’s not possible, and your heart couldn’t handle it. I can’t make you gain ten feet in height, because your body couldn’t handle pushing blood up fifteen feet into the air. There are limits to these things, ok? Science is science. I just can fuck with what science lets me. Oh, you don’t believe me? Ok. Let’s do an experiment or two. It’s gonna take some time, so you gotta be patient. See that guy over there? The one talking with that tall guy having one too many Guinesses? He’s trying to gym consistently and he wants to gain some muscle. How did I figure that out? You’d expect me to say I can “read minds,” but that shit ain’t possible. Ever try to figure out your own thoughts? Yeah, exactly. He’s like 5’5”, maybe 100 lbs, and he’s wearing a LVFT shirt. People who don’t lift, or want to lift, typically wear that. Shall we verify? Told you. Oh, I said he has a nice brand of shirt and he smiled and said he’s been hitting the gym for about a month. He’s frustrated that the growth isn’t as fast as he’d like. Why did I touch him on the arms? Ah, you weren’t paying attention, were you? Touch is the best way to deliver the pheromones. I got them to concentrate on my left hand, so when I asked to see his progress – yeah, he’s trying – I had an excuse to feel his arm and, boom. I had to apologize for having a “sweaty palm,” cuz I left his arm wet. I made sure I poured out a lot for him. Had to have an excuse, so I blamed it on the heat. It’s always hot in this bar, which sucks cuz the drinks are good. He said he comes here regularly, so I said I’d get him a drink the next time I’m here and he is too, which is next Thursday. Yeah, conveniently a week from today, no? I’m pretty sure you’d want to come back to see if I’m full of shit or not. For full blown muscle growth, it typically takes a few weeks to see pounds of muscle mass to be gained. Wait, you think that’s normal? Hell no. A few pounds a year is pretty spectacular. I’m not entirely sure – I will need to smell what he’s giving off next week – but I think I gave him enough for thirty or so pounds. That’s a lot, and he’ll be showing. What’s in this for you? Well, I told you an experiment or two. You’re the second experiment. I can’t figure it out from what your body is dumping off, but your testosterone, hGH, FSH, dihydroxytestosterone, LH, progesterone and androstene levels smell normal. Doubting there are enzyme deficiencies. So, I’d guess you’re packing what? 6 inches? Something about average? Yeah, I figured. Oh, oops. Sorry if I’m being too loud – I do like this Jaegermeister shit. I like these, um, discrepant events? You think one thing is the case, while I’ll show you’re wrong. Yeah, this works for doing other things, too. I’m still not great at the cancer thing – but I’m working on it. If I figure it out, yeah, the medical community is gonna know. What about my body? Oh, I’ll explain that later. Sad story. So, while we’ve been here, I’ve been pouring out as many of those hormones as I could. Hormones, pheromones, eh, they basically do the same thing. I’m giving you some other fun things that only target your dick. This will be a bit more entertaining, because you’ve been sniffing it for the past thirty minutes. It’s stuck on your clothes. You’ll keep absorbing it after I say goodbye. If I’m not full of shit – and I’m not – I’ll see you in a week with a bit more stretching your pants than I can feel right now. Yeah, it’ll take time, just like my muscle man project over there. Oh, I’m good to go home – I live within walking distance. See you next Thursday.
  14. Fraternity Muscle: Part 7

    AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first new story on the new forum. A little treat for Easter. Hope you enjoy. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 A Walk in the Park “OH FUCK YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!” hollered Greg as the weight slammed back on the rack. His pledge brothers looked around him dumbfounded as the five and half tons worth of weight literally bent the bar holding it. “Holy fuck!” sighed Nate in awe. “Ain’t nobody ever squatted like that before. Even Grieg has never managed over five tons. Why the fuck don’t you crossover now man?” Greg flexed his quads. He would never admit it, but the weight felt a little light for him. Both he and Matt had changed since he’d started taking Matt’s new formula several few weeks ago. And coupled with the old formula it had given him a boost even stronger than Matt. “Gotta keep it on the down low, man,” said Greg. But all the brothers could see it in his eyes. It was a heady mix. “We swore none of us would cross until we could all cross together.” “Word!” said Henry. Greg smiled at him. Henry was a fucking genetic god. He’d been so small the brothers has started calling him Tiny, and even so he had grown into a powerhouse. He was still the shortest of the five. But what he lacked in height he made up for in width. Even Nate could now barely stay ahead. If it had just been the three of them then they would have crossed several weeks ago. Greg had been the first to meet all the requirements, just beating out Nate. Henry followed swiftly and even Ivan had finally caught up to the minimum requirements. The only real problem was Davis. Neither Ivan, nor Davis had ever really been the sort of alpha males that the other three had found it in themselves to be. And this wasn’t a problem. Of the active brothers some had more passion for the physical side of things than others. But it meant that they were now being held back. But the bonds of brotherhood they’d forged during their pledging had become so strong no one of them was willing to go on without his pledge brothers. “You’re gonna fucking bust that weight today!” Greg told Davis. “I’m not going to hear any excused bro. Or I’m gonna kick your ass. HENRY, RACK THE WEIGHTS!” Davis was so fucking close, Greg was sure it was just a mental block on his side. With all of his pledge brothers there, Davis was going to overcome this. The bench looked intimidating, but Greg was ready to coach him through it. The other men gathered round. Each ready with a word of encouragement. Each looking like a brick wall. Davis, notwithstanding that he was the smallest of the lot, was still big enough to play professional football. “C’mon, man,” Greg said. “I can fucking rep 3000 pounds on this bench for a set of 100. If a fucking science geek like me can do it, you can do 1000. Now feel the bar in your hands. Get the weight of it. That’s right Davis. Perfect. Your form is perfect. Now lift. Fuck that’s right. Don’t worry about a thing, I’m here to spot you. That’s beautiful man. You’ve already got ten done. This is easy. Now c’mon. Yep. Feels good doesn’t it. Fuck bro look at your pecs. Getting swole. Don’t slow down on me! That’s fifty! Fucking easy. Now sixty. Just a few more.” The other guys watched, eager. Davis grunted. His arms were tiring. And he was wishing he’d spent more time in the gym with his pledge brothers. Always at seventy-five he felt himself giving up. He’d hit eighty only once. “DON’T YOU FUCKING GIVE UP ON ME DAVIS!!!!!!!” Greg was roaring. “ANOTHER. AND ANOTHER. COME ON!” Davis managed to squeeze eighty. His pec muscles burned. But then he saw Greg’s face over him. “MORE!” Davis steeled himself. It was this or nothing. He brought the bar back down. There was a pause, and the guys held their breath. Davis let out an almighty grunt. “C’MON!” shouted Greg, ready to take the bar and help guide it if he needed to. Against all odds Davis felt the bar rise. Eighty-one. The dam broke. “FUCK. YES. I. WILL. DO. THIS!” He began to rep against, slightly faster, most steady. He broke ninety. So fucking close. Ninety-one. Ninety-two. “YOU GOT THIS BRO! FUCK YEAH!” Greg was still hollering, but this time there was a sense of exultation behind the words. Davis felt something go through him. Ninety-three. A shaky ninety-four. He grunted. His breath hissing. Ninety-five. Ninety-six. Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight. “TWO MORE MAN!” this time from Henry. “DON’T GIVE UP!” encouraged Nate. Ninety-nine. Oh, fuck that weight. Crushing his arms. His hands felt numb. FUCK! One more, one more, one more. Just another deep breath. Another push. Fuck his pecs burned!!! He couldn’t feel them. One more. One more. Then Davis went for it. To the guys that watched it was perfect. A smooth finish as he completed the last rep. Then the weight slammed back into the rack with a loud clang, and Davis was hauled to his feet by Ivan, as the other guys slapped him on the back. “Nicely done,” said Greg. “Nicely done.” “Thanks to you Greg.” Davis had a tear in his eye. “No bro that was all you! You decided you weren’t gonna be a pussy. You’ve done it bro. You’re ready to cross.” Greg gave him an affectionate hug. It didn’t seem to bother any of the five that they were stark naked. It has all become so commonplace. “Well done gentleman.” They turned to hear clapping coming from the doorway. “Looks like I can inform the brothers that you’ve met the strength requirements at tonight’s meeting.” “Thanks Mr. Doorkeeper, Sir!” said Davis. Still a little bashful, and frankly in shock at his success. “Why don’t you all go out and celebrate? My treat.” Ty pulled out his wallet and handed Nate some bills. They looked like twenties. “Except you Mr. O’Brien. I need your help with something.” “Yes, Sir!” said Greg. He was unsurprised because Ty has always had it in for him. “Go on guys, I’ll catch you up when I’m done.” “That’s right,” smirked Ty. “He won’t be too long.” The guys shuffled out and the room became quiet. Ty pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the side of the room. Greg eyed him wearily. “You’ve yet to fulfil one of my desires Mr. O’Brien. You do know that is a requirement for you to become a brother, don’t you?” “I’m aware of that fact, Mr. Doorkeeper, Sir.” Greg wasn’t as afraid of Ty as he had been. In fact, as he puffed up his chest he watched Ty’s body. Ty was a rockstar with a national profile. He was the darling of college football. Big, mean, and an arm like nobody’s business. And he was so fucking hot. As he let his head cock to the side as he walked closer to Greg, his pec bunched and rolled, rippling striations. Fuck the sunshine shone out the footsteps of Tyler Dickson. And if Greg wasn’t much mistaken, Tyler had a hardon for him. “I’m the Doorkeeper,” whispered Ty. He was now awfully close to Greg. Pretty much as close as he could come and not have their massive pecs touching. They were the same size. Maybe Greg was actually bigger? “Do you think there is anything that happens here without me knowing?” Greg didn’t even answer, assuming it was a rhetorical question. Tyler ran his finger down the front of Greg’s left pec muscle, and his finger burned like fire. Greg’s blood had been up already from the squatting and Davis’s session on the bench. He felt his cock rising, harder and harder as Tyler leaned in. Placing a fingertip on the hard point of Greg’s nipple, as his mouth found Greg’s. Fuck Greg didn’t know what he was expecting. Tyler had been so harsh with him. Shadowing him and ready to pounce on any failure. But now he was being…tender. Teasing. And his tongue touched Greg’s and soon they mouths were moving together. Then their pecs were touching. “What is it you desire, Sir?” inquired Greg as they finally pulled away. He needed to get his breath back. “What I’ve desired since I first saw you Mr. O’Brien. That sweet ass of yours. I want to add it to my collection.” He reached around and lasciviously squeezed Greg’s lower cheeks. “Fuck that’s been ripe for my cock for a while now. But you boys have held back. Thought I didn’t know what you could do?” Greg let his head fall back a bit as he enjoyed the attentions of Ty’s strong hand. It felt good. “Do you know then that I broke your record on the bench?” “What?” Tyler looked confused. “Your best ever bench is 2500 pounds isn’t it Sir?” Tyler saw satisfaction in Greg’s eyes. “I beat that a week ago.” “No fucking way!” “Oh fuck yeah…Sir” This time when he said sir, both men knew it wasn’t meant as sign of respect. Greg reached around and grabbed Tyler squeezing him in bear hug. “You’ve only seen what I let you see.” Greg smiled an evil grin this time as he felt Ty struggling in his grip. But Tyler was still hard. And Greg’s hold was harder than titanium. “Feels like what you really desire is this hard cock here, isn’t it Bottom Boy?” “What did you call me?” “Sorry…Mr. Bottom Boy, Sir!” Tyler’s face turned a shade of red, but Greg wasn’t about to be gentle. He picked Ty up and held him like a child, burying his face in Tyler’s pecs. “Fuck Ty, I’ll give you this much…you may be the hottest fucking brother in this frat!” Ty pulled Greg’s head even further into his pecs and Greg’s tongue tried to devour him, licking off every drop of sweat that was forming there and taking in Tyler’s masculine aroma. “Suck me off,” Tyler begged. "Take it in your mouth.” Greg hoisted Ty up higher, his massive frame light in Greg’s solid arms, and seeing the massive tool hidden behind the denim of Greg’s jeans he tore at it with his teeth. The smell of Tyler’s thick meat filled his nose long before he got it free, and with his raging hormones Greg was salivating with what was on offer. His wet tongue devouring Tyler. And Ty was a big boy. He’d kept many boys and girls happy with that monster. Greg sucked that flesh lightly, then roughly, enjoying the taste and the musky scent. Greg finally pulled his mouth off of the gigantic rod and gazed at it with awe and wonder. It was a thing of beauty, but he had other things on his mind.. “Oh, that’s right Bottom Boy,” Greg told him. “Don’t worry, you’ll get what’s coming to you. I know you’ve waited a long time for this.” Greg left Ty fall, but deftly caught him before he hit the ground. Setting him gently on his feet, Tyler made a last ditch attempt to extricate himself, but Greg held firmly onto his biceps, squeezing so hard that he saw a flash of pain on Ty’s face. Greg turned Tyler around to face the bench. “Is this how you like it best? Bending them over.” With his hand flat in the back of Tyler’s thick lats, he pushed him face first over the bench. He slapped Ty’s ass and looked at Ty’s face in the bank of mirrors ahead of them. Greg then grinned like a kid on Christmas morning as he tore open Tyler’s jeans. Tyler’s backside was muscular, and tight and round and Greg slapped it twice more before he knelt down and reached in, using his tongue to probe the tight hole, to rim around him. Tyler squirmed in delight experiencing a sensation he’d never felt before. His asshole spasmed around Greg’s tongue. Greg paused for a second, curiosity getting the better of him as he waited for the sodomy to begin, but he spread Ty’s muscular cheeks. That ass was so tight looking, the muscles clenched together. Greg really wanted him then. Wanted to fuck Tyler until he begged for mercy. “I’m fucking straight.” Greg said it more to himself than to Ty. “No you’re not,” grunted Ty. “You never were. At least not entirely. The formula only makes you more of what you were. So deep down fucker, you’ve always wanted this.” Greg knew he was right. And he didn’t want it. But Ty did, since Tyler had long ago stopped struggling against him. He’d been with women. Several women now that the pledge process had started. But he’d never been with a guy before. Not like this. Greg pressed the head of his cock against Ty’s hole. Tyler was resisting, whether subconsciously or not, and entering him was no easy task. After a slow eternity, Greg felt his massive, hairy balls rest obscenely against Tyler’s flesh. There was no turning back now. The blunt head of his cock buried inside a warm moist hole. Greg moaned softly from the filthy pleasure of it all. He began to pull out, leaving a void behind him. Then just when he was Tyler groaned feeling the sense of emptiness Greg thrust the head forward again. Tyler moaned and Greg grunted, relishing in the feeling of filling Ty again and again. It became easier as his cock, now slick with pre-cum and saliva, slid smoothly in and out of Tyler’s smooth ass, which was still expanding almost to the point of breaking. “Oh fuck!” Tyler grunted. “Oh, fuck … fuck me Greg.” “That’s how it feels to have a man inside you Bottom Boy,” Greg told him as pounded. His balls began to slap against that ass as he ploughed him. Greg was cock-crazed. Lost up in the sex. Finally, after neither was sure how long, Greg thrust his engorged dick inside Tyler and held it there. He convulsed as he felt the cum explode from inside of him. Tyler had a look of tired pleasure in his eyes. And Greg confused over his feelings felt his cock soften as he pulled out. Without a word he turned and walked away. * * * Later that day the five of guys were walking across the campus quad, a little drunk from their afternoon beers. Greg had been strangely silent, but the other guys didn’t press him about it. They figured that Tyler had given him some horrible task he’d needed to perform. Just then Ivan, half drunkenly, said, “Wow, who’re those guys?” All of them turned to look at a group of shirtless guys playing football across the grass from them. “They’re huge, but they’re not guys from our house.” Henry looked to Nate. “Never seen ‘em before,” muttered Nate, shrugging. Greg felt a knot form in his stomach. He knew every big guy on this campus and no one was as big as a Phi Epsilon Chi man. He looked a little closer walking forward to get a better look. Then the knot in the pit of his stomach turned into a dagger as he walked closer, interrupting the game, and grabbed one of the guys pushing him forcefully enough that he had to take a few steps backward. “Rich?” said Greg. His roommate had basically been living over at the Kappa Mu Alpha house, so he hadn't really seen him since the party. “Hey buddy!” said Rich good naturedly. Greg realised a couple things just then. Rich was fucking huge. Not as big as him, but no lightweight either. And he was surrounded by a whole bunch of Kappa men who were all Rich’s size or bigger. He looked around him and none of the faces were remotely friendly. Then Greg looked back at Rich. “Surprise!” To be continued....
  15. Scotty Takes Control

    Links to previous Scotty stories: Scotty Scotty 2.0 Scotty Takes Control “Scotty?” I think the last thing Dr Wenk expected was to find a muscular, young beast standing outside his front door on an early autumn evening. Particularly this one. “Hey Doc! How’s it hanging?” “If you’re looking for Rich he went down to the library an hour ago and then he said he would meet you at the gym.” The Doc had such as earnest look on his face as he gazed up at me through the open door. He was so much like the way Rich used to be that it was a little scary. What must it feel like to be so small? It scared the shit out of me honestly. Still I bounced back quickly enough. “Naw Doc. I’m not here to see Rich. I came to see you.” “Me? Why? Did we have an appointment? I don’t need to draw any blood until this weekend.” A confused look passed over his face quickly followed by one of concern. “Are you feeling all right? Have there been any side effects?” I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. It rumbled up from deep behind my chiseled, granite abdominal muscles and I felt my whole body flex, undulating under my tight shirt. I bounced my pecs because I could. “Do I look like I’m having side effects Doc?” “No, no you really don’t,” Dr Wenk told me awe in his voice. I think I detected a bit of envy and resentment underlying that response too, with a hint of desire. “Well no point in standing out here. Why don’t you invite me in and we’ll talk?” I didn’t actually wait for him to ask. I pushed past, forcing him to quickly move aside for my considerable mass, and I made a point of having to turn slightly to enter the door before walking into their living room. I’m sure the effect wasn’t lost on Rich’s dad. “So why are you here Scotty?” I turned around to face him. “I want more pills Doc. It’s that simple. As many as you can give me.” “Now Scott we talked about this with you and Rich before. I’m not giving you guys any more of those pills. You’ve already exceeded any possible recommended dosage and I need to remind you that they are experimental. If the FDA knew they had been tested on humans I’d lose my license. Hell, I’d likely be arrested!” I'd heard it all from him before and I didn’t have time now for guilt, remorse, or concern for the future. “Do you know what I used to call your son, Doc?” “Sorry…. What is the relevance of the question?” “I used to call him Dick Wank.” “What?” “Dick. Wank. Richard Wenk. Get it?” Dr Wenk had a bit of a confused look on his face, but it was becoming more concerned. “Yeah Doc, I know it was a dick move. Fucking bully shit. But since I met you I can see what Rich was so afraid of. All those brains in a tiny, weak little body. Tiny like yours, Doc. Fear of spending his life as an insignificant little worm. That’s why he stole those pills, Doc. He couldn’t face life as a pussy.” I took a step forward and Dr Wenk took a step backwards. His lips were pressed tightly together and I could almost see the adrenalin running through his system, triggering a fight or flight mode. My giant physique must have seemed like the Hulk to him, intimidating and aggressive. He was so insignificant. As it was clear he wouldn’t speak, I continued. “I will never hurt Rich, Doc. You have my word on that. But I want to grow. I need to grow. Big. Huge. Bigger than this.” I held my arms out just so he could take it all in. Each arm thick and muscled like an anaconda. I knew my guns were already bigger than the Doc’s head. My lats pulled at the stitching of my t-shirt. I felt so massive. God it was good to be a man. “I…can’t….” He looked miserable. Torn. I knew my big body was turning him on. He was terrified and excited all at the same time. I knew the feeling well. “I think you can. You want to. And you will.” “Please don’t ask me to do this!” “You need to do it.” “Why?” His voice was shaking. “Because you want me to be bigger.” “What?” “C’mon Doc, let’s not lie to each other. I can see it in your eyes.” I moved toward him, careful not to spook him. He didn’t back away, even though I totally eclipsed him. “Give me those pills and let me show you.” I bounced my pecs again. First the left, then the right. The Doc’s eyes sort of glazed over and his pupils grew wider. Scotty Balotelli knew when he had a fish on the line and the Doc was hooked. “You know you want me huge Doc.” I flexed my guns. BOOM. Those peaks reached up higher and higher and the Doc didn’t know where to look first. I began to pose slowly, leaning back, hands on hips, and I thrust out my lats. I could feel them unfurl like the wings of a Boeing 747. The seams were straining against me, stretched to breaking. “Way bigger than Rich,” I growled. My back was massive. I flexed a quad as well. Even through my board shorts it was more like a barrel than a quad. Those striations of the muscle bellies visible under the thick fabric. Each standing out sharply in relief. “The biggest of them all.” I grabbed my right wrist with my left fist and I turned ever so slightly to the left, twisting it out, pecs engorged and thick and swollen, as they bunched up, big enough to set a dinner service on. Two enormous slabs of pure Grade A American teenage beef. The twist emphasized the narrowness of my waist, and also the ridges and furrows of abdominals and obliques, fighting for space on my body and looking like they were carved of pure Carrera marble. Quads like tree trunks and calves like huge basketballs. I heard the seams tear as even my guns would not be contained. My delt was like a boulder. And at that opportune moment I felt the side of my sleeve tear all the way up past those boulders towards my traps. The Doc moaned. He fucking moaned. “The biggest fucking man on the planet,” I shouted, swinging my arms up and out like I’d seen The Myth, Mr Sergio Olivia himself, do. He was nothing compared to me now. I laughed as I brought my arms down. Give him the kill shot. I felt myself squeezing. I’d never flexed so hard in all my life, but I put it all and more into that flex. I could feel my abs crunching together, capable of grinding sand to powder. My traps rose higher and higher behind my bull thick neck, dense and corded. My arms flexed into cannons, as the crab came together, slowly, letting the Doc savor every minute. And as I brought my fists together I felt every fiber of my t-shirt strained past breaking as the seams split and gave way along the back unable to hold back the ferocious muscle underneath. I was all man. All beast. Both at the same time. All the stitching gave way then as muscle hulked out of fabric. And I stood before the Doc, massive, enormous, tatters of cotton barely clinging round my shoulders. The Doc shuddered. A wet stain appeared on his trousers. I grabbed his waist and picked him up until his head nearly hit the ceiling. “I’ll do it,” he told me, still trying to come down off his high. “You can have the pills.” “All of them?” I enquired. “You can have anything you want.” “Now you’re talking, Doc. And if you thought this was awesome, just wait.” * * * I knew I was already late for the gym, but I wanted to make a pit stop first. The lights were on at my Uncle Gio’s place. The dude was my uncle, but in a lot of ways he was more like an older brother. My dad had been twenty-one when I was born, but my mom had only been sixteen when my older brother was born and eighteen when I was born. What can I say? I come from a family of horny Italians. At least my dad married her after he knocked her up. Anyway, Giovanni was her youngest sibling and her only brother and he’d been ten when I was born. Gio had started lifting in his teens and had won a few shows on the competitive circuit. The G-man was always trying to make it to the IFBB though. Still he had a good business as a building contractor, and that paid for all his gear, food, and training. He’d set me up with my first cycle over this past summer and my body had drunk it up like water. My dad was a big man, as were all the men on dad’s side. But so was Uncle Gio. Now that he was twenty-eight his muscle was starting to get that real nice shape that comes with age. I banged on the door to get his attention. If he was fucking, he’d be likely to ignore me. And Gio was always fucking. Big muscles and big balls run on both sides of my family. My fist wasn’t going to let up though and I was hammering hard enough on the door that the frame creaked under the relentless assault. “FUCK!!!!” I could hear him shouting. The door flew open. My uncle stood on the other side. Sweaty. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and that was it. He was looking huge and it was clear his latest cycle was paying some dividends. The towel barely contained his meaty cock, still more than half hard, and his even meatier ass. “This had better be good motherfucker!” His nostrils were flared, eyes fierce and glaring. Gio was ready to wallop whoever was on the other side of the door. His eyes widened when he saw who was standing there. “Scotty?” He looked confused. “Jesus you’re huge!” It occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Gio since my last day at work before school started. Uncle G had been around two bucks fifty then, with a little padding as he was cutting. So a couple weeks ago he’d outweighed me by around fifty pounds. But the man who stood before him now was much, much bigger. I weighed in these days at about three hundred. And my body fat was lower than his. Hell, I couldn’t eat enough. My body fat was practically non-existent. “Holy fuck man! What the hell happened to you?” “Long story man. And I ain’t got time to tell it.” “You better come in.” He turned to walk into the apartment and I followed him inside. I was still shirtless. The tattered remains of cloth were with the Doc and Lord only knows what he was doing with them right now. Uncle G turned to look at me and really looked at me for the first time in the light of his living room. “So dude, what’s with all the banging man?” “Yo G! I need your help man. Gotta get some gear now.” Gio looked at me like I was crazy. “Scotty, can’t this wait? I’m kinda busy.” I looked over his shoulder and a naked chick was doing her best to cover herself up on the couch. She was a tart, just like Uncle G liked them. Blonde, big tits, and no brains. “Besides I'm already giving you gear and you don’t exactly look like you need any more juice. You were a scrawny little junior bodybuilder two weeks ago, and now you look like you could take on the whole Olympia line-up.” I knew he was baiting me. I was hardly scrawny before, but I saw Gio’s eyes were an absolute riot of emotion. He looked envious, awe inspired, and confused all at the same time. “Call it an experiment,” I told him. He didn’t need to be any further into my business. “I need your best gear man. Whatever you got. I need it bad and I need it tonight. No questions asked. And you know I’m good for the money.” “Honey,” he told the blonde with the tits. “Go wait in the bedroom.” She looked like she was about to protest, but then he shot her a look and she clamped her mouth shut and got up off the couch…bare ass naked too. Gio may have seen it before, but I hadn’t and damn was she hot. Long, long legs and dat ass. Dayum! His apartment was open plan and the kitchen opened out from the living room. Uncle G ignored her strut to the bedroom, which I suspected was more for my benefit anyway. Gio had been avoiding my question and walked over to the fridge and grabbed a beer. “Want one?” “Naw, man. Gotta get over to Big Mike’s for my workout.” “So you ain’t gonna tell me how you got this huge?” He asked me again. But he could see that I wouldn’t say anything, not yet anyway. So he looked at me for a few minutes, taking the occasional swallow of beer. Uncle G wasn’t a man of a lot of words, bless him. He kind of said it like it was. But I knew my uncle wasn’t stupid either. He ran a successful contractor’s business and had a little steroid supply on the down low to a select group of customers, his nephew included. One of his eyebrows rose into his forehead. That meant he was thinking about it. And he was looking at me, thinking of the possibilities. “You help me out G and I can help you out too. If you know what I’m saying.” “Okay man. I’ll help you out. Never forget your family man.” “I won’t!” I said emphatically. “Wait here,” he told me. He set his beer down and went into the bedroom. I could her that blonde’s voice giggling. Gio’s bed wouldn’t get too cold. I walked over to the kitchen counter and reached in my pocket. Although my shorts were supposed to be baggy board shorts for the beach they were now tight on me. My quads, already thick, had pumped up even bigger flexing for the Doc and they felt so damn swole. I pulled out from my pocket a bottle of the pills that the Doc had given me. Since he was coming through with the gear I was going to owe the G-man a little something something. I thought I’d pay him back now. Once he grew, he wouldn’t need the cash so much. I popped open the lid of the bottle and took out three pills and crushed them into his beer. I didn’t know what it’d do, but I was curious to find out. That’s when Gio came out of the bedroom, still wearing his towel. I hurriedly put the pill bottle back in my pocket. He handed me a small box and I peeked in. There were a couple vials of a clear liquid, but I didn’t recognize the label. “It’s some experimental shit I got from a dude working at a lab in the city. It’s not been tested on humans, but I pinned some myself this week and as you can see I’ve been growing too.” G-man was looking pretty swole himself. There was a little fat to be sure, but contest ready he was usually closer to two hundred. He’d clearly gained thirty or more pounds of muscle. So I guess we’d all been hiding our secrets. “Thanks G, I owe you big time!” We grabbed fists and went in for a bro hug, pounding each other’s lats a couple times. “Have fun. And don’t forget your beer,” I told him. As if it was a reminder he picked the bottle up, tipped it back, and took a swig. “Scotty, before you go. Your mother asked me to run your brother’s medication over to him at juvy tomorrow. I got a fuck load of shit to do. Can you drop it off for me instead?” He held out a bag from the local pharmacy. I got an idea and smiled. “Hey man, no problem.” * * * Big Mike’s was buzzing with lifters. There was always a big after work crowd and you got a lot of the serious young meat heads like me and the Dweeb this time of night too. It was a male only gym with a lot of iron, and dudes trained however they wanted. So no one was bothered when I walked in without a shirt, even if it was getting a little chilly outside. Rich was over by the squat rack. There were dudes at Big Mike’s as big as Rich, or bigger, and some even bigger than me. But no one was stronger than the pair of us. The other men gave us our space when we wanted it. And Rich was all alone. A little oasis of perfect concentration in a sea of monsters pushing iron. Although little seemed like an oxymoron considering how swole the Dweeb was looking now. The bar was bending over his shoulders. And a quick count put the weight at over a thousand pounds. Nice! We’d been making gains over the last couple weeks, pushing each other further than either of us had ever been pushed before. I dropped my bag and pulled out a couple water bottles I’d grabbed at the store on the way. He saw me in the mirror, like anyone could have missed me even in a pack of roid heads, and he re-racked the weight and turned to me. “Where’ve you been? It was getting late and I had to start without you.” “Sorry man.” I tossed him one of the water bottles. “I had to run some errands first. Couldn’t be helped.” “It’s okay,” Rich told me. “You’re just in time to work in. What am I supposed to do with this by the way?” He indicated the bottle. “Drink it down Dweeb.” I grinned like a bastard, winking at him. “Gotta keep hydrated.” Rich usually just drank his water directly from the water fountain, but he didn’t turn down the bottle and took off the cap and gave it a huge swig. I’d already had a few swallows from mine, so I grabbed four hundred pound plates and loaded two each on either end of the bar. Thank goodness Big Mike had some specially reinforced bars made, otherwise we'd have bent the regular Olympic bars. “I’ve told you Dweeb. You are never gonna grow unless you put some real weight on the bar.” I gave him my best devil may care smile and Rich looked at me like we was going to say something smart, but then he watched me get under the weight. I could feel the bar bending across my thick traps and I wondered if I should be squatting fourteen hundred pounds plus the weight of the bar. Especially without a warm-up. “Do you want a spot?” Rich looked a little concerned. We’d never gone so heavy. “Naw, dude. I got this.” I lifted the weight fully off and then went in for a squat. I could feel the pain where I’d pinned myself ten minutes before in the ass, the oily lump of solution lying in a pocket inside the muscle. As my glutes flexed they broke apart the solution and forced it through the muscle and into my veins. That and the pump I was feeling from pills I’d crushed into my water. All five of them. Fuck, that shit was good. Oh, hell yeah. Things were about to get huge! One. Two. Three. Four. Legs hot. Five. Burning. Six. Fuck! Seven. Can’t do this. Eight. Gotta do it! Nine. Yeah, do it pussy! Ten. BOOM. FUCK YA SKINNY PUSSIES. LIGHT WEIGHT. I re-racked the weight. My quads were burning like a whore with a bad disease, but damn were they long, thick and fucking swole. I mean massive muthafucking swole. Huge bellies. Thick grooves running between each muscle. If only Doc could see me now. His little prick was be spraying like a fountain. “FUCK YEAH!” “Your turn.” I was stronger than Rich at the best of times. So I took some weight off the bar for him. But I still made him squat until he fell over, his legs unable to support him. Soon we had an audience. My muscle wanted to grow. Needed to grow. I could feel those pills inside me. I’d never forget that feeling. And there was an even greater high from the gear. I was flying high as a kite. Rich and I ran through every leg exercise we could think to do. Leg presses until we couldn’t rack enough weight onto the equipment. Lunges. Hack squats. The ordinary machines didn’t have enough weight and so we went back to the squat rack and loaded it with even more. I saw myself in the mirror after I squatted seventeen hundred pounds for five reps. I was huge. I’d just broken every records. I dwarfed every man around me. Rich, although smaller, was looking just as swole though. Just as pumped. Muscle almost too big for him, but I knew he’d be a growing boy all over. I could see his water bottle was empty as was mine. Lifting was thirsty work. Rich was now bigger than Uncle Gio had been a couple hours ago. Rich grinned and flexed at me. The dudes around us were mesmerized. It wasn’t just muscle, but feats of strength. Rich posed and I responded. I felt myself match him pose for pose and it was awesome. They watched our pose off, eyes glued to the scene. I could still feel my muscles thickening, getting denser, even as I flexed. I felt so strong I walked over and picked up the two biggest dumbbells that Big Mike had. It wasn’t my day for training arms, but I couldn’t help it. These dumbbells each weighed four hundred forty pounds or two hundred kilograms and Big Mike had had them made as an inside joke, saying that he would give a prize to the man who could bench them for reps. I started curling them. Damn. Look at these guns. Bazookas more like. Naw, these were long range missiles. DAMN! Even Rich let out a whistle when he saw me. I curled to the count of ten reps for each arm and then I carefully set the weights down, showing everyone how light they were for me. Standing back I curled my arms into double biceps. They were like the peaks of the Himalayas. If you look closely you could see there was snow on those summits. People in the gym muttered. There were looks of envy and desire on most faces. I knew what they felt. Here were two kids. Just kids. And we’d blown away every beast in the place. Every beast in the magazines. And we made it look easy. They knew we were on something and each man there would have given his nuts to find out what. But I took a deep breath then and knew I was done. I could feel the ache, so delicious. It was time to let muscle rest and heal. Rich tossed his empty bottle into the bin and we went into the locker room. He paused and looked at himself in the mirror. The new size wasn’t lost on him. “How many?” he asked. “How many what?” “Pills.” I looked at him, but his jaw had taken a firm line. I knew there was no point. “Five each.” “In the water?” “Yes.” Rich looked thoughtful. He walked over to the scales and stepped on. He looked down as the scales groaned under him. “Three hundred and two.” He smiled. “I mean I look big, but I don’t look quite that big.” I nodded, Rich having confirmed one of my suspicions. “We’re getting denser as we get stronger. The growth in hypertrophy is there, but it’s slowing.” Rich gestured to the scales and I stepped on. It quickly shot past three hundred and I could hear a grinding sound as it broke under all my mass. “Well I guess that answers that question.” Rich laughed. “How did your date go tonight?” I asked him remembering, having forgotten about Ali at the library earlier. “It wasn’t a date.” “You know what I mean.” “I kissed her.” I let out a whoop and presented my fist for a bump. “Well all right Dweeb!” To my everlasting surprise Rich bumped my fist back without prompting. I was gonna make a bro out of him yet. We hit the showers and, after getting dressed, both of us barely fitting into the clothes we’d brought with us, I knew I had to explain to Rich about my trip to his house earlier. Rich was pleased that I’d coaxed the pills out of his dad. He was still too good to demand any of them from his dad for himself. But I didn’t tell Rich about my uncle or the gear though. No point in that. I thought it was fair to let Rich manage his own growth, so I gave him his own bottle with its fifteen remaining pills. He could be in control over when and how many he took. I still had the remaining bottles though and as long as I could impress the Doc, I could have even more. I felt their reaction with the stuff Gio gave me and I knew I was onto something. As I got in my car I was thinking about giving Becky Smith a call for a fuck that night. She had offered anyway. And when you’re lifting like Rich and me, your balls will need emptying. * * * “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” The next day I was pummeling the juvy nurse and she kept making little noises like a chipmunk. Damn she was hot. She orgasmed on my balls for about the sixth time and I realized that with my increased girth and length came an increased ability to satisfy these tight snatches. I hit the g-spot on every thrust. I didn’t have on a rubber though, so I decided to pull out and let her suck me off. Pretty sure my protein was better quality than you’d find in a steak. I’d almost forgotten why I’d come to the Juvenile Detention Center in the first place. “Don’t forget to give those pills to my brother now,” I reminded her as I zipped up my fly. She stood, buttoning her blouse, and made sure her dress was smoothed back in place. “Well it is Juvenile Detention Center policy that we fill all the prescriptions ourselves you know,” she told me one more time. “We want to make sure they’re not contraband drugs.” Funny, she’d told me that same thing thirty minutes before. Five minutes before I’d started fucking her. “Awww, no need for that right?” I reached down and under her dress. My finger found its way into her hole. Again. She let out a squeak, squealing at this intrusion. This bitch was insatiable. And I’d fucked her. I mean I’d fucked her hard damn it. She’d cum six times. And I could feel her muscles writhing along my finger now, as I finger fucked her. Of course my finger was as big as some men’s dicks, and it had a lot of practice. “My mom couldn’t have known that was your policy and you don’t want her to have to pay for filling the same prescription twice, do you?” “Well…I…suppose…it’s…okay this time.” She breathed heavily, shuddering, as her voice hit a high note on that last word, and then I felt the moisture around my finger as her juices spilled out for a seventh time. “Seventh time is the charm,” I told her. I brought my sticky finger up to my mouth and sucked her juices off. “Will I see you again?” She had a stupid doe eyed expression on her face, but the chick could fuck. If I’d had more time now I might take her for another spin. “Babe, you can see me anytime you want.” She grinned back at me stupidly. “So give him his pills,” I said firmly, as I turned to leave. “And remember his name is Balotelli. Johnny Balotelli.” The End (for now….)
  16. The Giant Football Coach - Chapter 4

    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!” **********************************************
  17. Basically A God Part 2

    I thought this might help motivate me to finish the story properly __________________________________________________ Part 1: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/9354-basically-a-god/ Part 2 Johnny was an anomaly to the human race. There was very little he couldn’t accomplish and anything that he couldn’t do, there’d always be a willing fan who’d be willing to do it for him. Not that there was a lot to begin with, of course. After the first year of superhero status, Johnny could already solve a good deal of the mathematical and scientific world’s problems. Being multilingual in many languages too, he was a worldwide commodity. That was an ability I think I was most dumbfounded by. He could generally read a truly thick book in about 30 minutes to an hour. After that, he pushed the envelope and started memorizing articles and web pages. When he learned how to hack, which took only about a flat 2 hours to memorize and 1 hour after to understand, he’d gone and hacked the dark net, which also took only 30 seconds on his part. That was the thing about Johnny, his sense of justice was pretty strong and after he became a “superhero” almost undeniable. He’d cracked down on every hacker, every drug dealer, and even every government official who’d dared to step foot in the secret compartment of the internet. Now, even the underworld knew to fear Johnny, an invincible creation unlike anything they’d seen before. Johnny’s heroics made him a god and an idol to everyone who passed him, He couldn’t walk the street anymore after he’d really gotten into the heroics of saving citizens from burning buildings and catching cranes falling from high buildings during construction. One day, he’d be in Hawaii saving the islands from a typhoon with his powerful breath. Another day, he’d be in India blowing clouds into their state to many from heat stroke. It was a terrifyingly wonderful thing for a Johnny to be so powerful and so fast that he could rapidly solve world problems with just a nod and a flight to another part of the world. When you’re flying around the world at twice the speed of the world’s fastest jet, Mach 13.9, you can’t expect people to not want to marvel at how your body pushes the limits of physics. Marveling was a key point of Johnny’s new career. Everyone wanted a piece of him and, as the days went by, there was more and more of him to go around. You’d see him on television shows, podcasts (some of which I listened to frequently), and magazines. Companies paid him billions to walk into their office and give a testimonial. Underarmour was a big one as Johnny’s clothes continued to shrink and he typically needed bigger equipment to hold the..... equipment. You could see the enjoyment on his face as they had him posing in their clothes on every social media. They’d tried their best to make stuff that could contain his godly gifts but, alas, none could do much to keep it below PG-13. His massive bulge was all over the internet, against his better judgement. Johnny openly admitted to me how he wanted to have some level of privacy and reservation as much as he loved showing off so he’d spent a lot of time analyzing the Poundstone Tower (built only several years ago) before we’d moved in to confirm there were any bugs or hidden cameras. He’d cleaned the 40 foot building from head to toe and it only made the public want to try harder to see him. Many were jealous that I got so much time with him but, to me, it was only a constant grim reminder. Living with a god was completely different from anything anyone else had ever experienced. Johnny was a very open person behind closed doors but the thing about closed doors is that he wasn’t fazed by them, after his last height measure of 7’6, it was a lot harder for him to get into the rooms that had been built for me so, to compensate the difficulty of door phrase, he’d just use his X-ray vision. I could hear his deep, powerful voice even when I was taking a dump. “Hey, when you’re done, you want to watch the new Civil War movie? I got it from the director as a gift!” “Dude I’m taking a shit!” Of course, being Johnny, he’d just laugh it off. I was slowly coming to understand that, as much as feared this guy’d eventually want pay back, he wasn’t like me. The way he used his powers and the way he was growing stronger by the day and becoming more enlightened as time passed, the more I realized he was slowly growing above what us humans experienced. I began to debate with myself if shame was in his vocabulary. The way he flew around the world in nothing but his tight underarmour or his even tighter superhero suit. The way he spoke down to government officials and rich business owners. Even the way he scoffed at the leaders in psychology for some of their conclusions on mental health. He didn’t meet them eye to eye in any way, especially literally. The way he fucked women all over the country and no one dared to criticize him for it. The world was slowly raising him above everything and everyone. The level of masculinity and dominance he could exert while still seeming like a big kid was dumbfounding. I couldn’t take too much of him all at once so I’d visit some of my old friends to pass the time. The ones who used to bully him. I pushed and twisted as I was under one of my buddies cars. Matt and I had decided that the weekend was a good time to fix his big truck. Matt had gotten a pretty good job and was making good money as a financial consultant for a large firm. With a 6 figure salary, his house was pretty well made and was in a gated community. His fiancé was a popular super model who he’d spent thousands of dollars keeping happy. Still, he had the same look that all my other old friends had. It was a mix of both fear and adoration. Expressions I’d gotten used to when anything was involved with Johnny. Many who had declared themselves straight had instantly gone gay for Johnny and it only got worse when the prospect of meeting him arose. My friends, however, were in a very particular situation. Each one was a jock who, in some shape or form, had the same fear of receiving payback from a figurative god. He was too strong to defy, too powerful to ignore, and worse, he was a walking tank now that got an upgrade everyday making everything about him all the more strong and powerful and intimidating. Still, they weren’t afraid to ask me the usual questions. “Hey, Sam, is true Johnny’s still growing even now or is it just a power play?” Matt said as he stuck his thick hand into his car’s hood. I groaned a little at the question but kept things moving. “Yeah, he’s actually growing. I don’t have to tell you how small he was before, shorter than me. I’m about as tall as the bottom of his chest now.” “Wow, man, that’s fucking crazy. Remember when we used to mess with that kid? His hand could probably palm my head like a basketball! His bicep looks bigger than my torso! He could lift you and me in this truck and probably throw it to the fucking moon!” I groaned silently as this kept going. People gushed about him all the time no matter how many times they listed his stats on the internet. It was easy to get bored of talk about his 67 inch thighs and his 40+ inch biceps if it’s all anyone ever wants to talk about. If they’d broadcasted his cock size, they’d probably have it as porn and make millions on the profits. Thankfully, I knew how to stamp out conversations like this. “Yeah, dude, he’s pretty much broke 900 pounds a few weeks ago. Whenever he takes me anywhere, we’ve got to make sure the ceilings are high enough and the doors will let him fit into buildings. Girls love it when he has to bend forward and show off his butt. By the way, you’re still straight, right?” Matt shut up at that point. I grinned. “Fuck you man” he said as he wiped his hands of dried oil as he came around the end of his truck. Nothing easier to bruise than a jock’s ego. Just as I came from under the car, the front door of his house opened, a large breast woman appearing. She came up to Matt and kissed him on his sweaty, beard covered cheek. “Hey babe, just came to check on the car maintenance” she said as Matt wrapped an arm around her waist. I couldn’t lie about how jealous I was of the guy. Henrietta was an astounding mix of beauty and brains as she’d graduated early from her university with a Masters in biomedical statistics. That, coupled with her amazing body and her popularity with the US made her an easy contender when it came to many if not any beauty pageants. I actually couldn’t describe her clothes if I tried as she truly was stunningly beautiful. “Yeah, us men do good work. You should know that better than anyone.” At that, he leaned into her neck and kissed it, producing a coo from her as she straightened her blouse. Mid kiss, a sound in the distance stopped everything. I recognized it and my shoulders tensed as I braced myself. A sonic boom shook the ground as something seemed to stop above us. The clouds had scattered in all directions above us as if they’d run away from something. As a small dot grew above us, I frowned as Johnny came into view. “Hey, buddy, you still fixing that car?” he asked as he slowly landed onto the ground with a soft thud. His large body filled a cardinal direction for me as he came near me and grinned down. Every time he walked up to me, I swear he’d gotten bigger than before. I turned to see Matt and Henrietta were open mouthed and speechless as Johnny had come from above. I imagined he looked even better to them up close than he did on a television screen. Muscles bulged all over in his super suit and bounced and shifted every time he moved or breathed. The sunlight added a holy effect to his shiny uniform and added to his presence, one that seemed to distort everything around him to make it appear ugly in comparison to him. “I see you and one of the shorties are having a blast” he said as he looked down at Matt’s truck. With it being around 6 feet and 5 inches tall with its large wheels attached, Johnny was still head and shoulders over it, making his glance appear almost condescending. Matt was still struggling to form words and sentences behind me. This was why I came alone to visit him. Once Johnny was in the room, I couldn’t get a coherent conversation from anyone I knew. Johnny walked over to the front of the truck, his girthy thighs swinging around each other, and he peeked into the hood. “Hey, Sam, could you turn the car on?” he asked calmly. I wanted to say no but I didn’t want anything unexpected to happen with one of my buddies watching. When I twisted the key in the car’s front seat, the truck chucked and groaned and wheezed before it just gave out. “Yep, thought so” he said. Suddenly, his eyes flashed red for a moment before they returned their blue hue. “This doesn’t look anything like it’s supposed to. What’s up with that spot underneath?” Johnny gestured for Matt and his wife to move out of the way as he brought his wide around to the side of the car. “Don’t move yet, Sam. Seatbelt’s on.” Before I could ask why, Johnny dug a hand underneath the car and everything around me moved to a 45 degree angle. Johnny peeked into the machinery underneath the car with his big hand holding the truck up and almost on its side. I had to hang onto my seat at this angle. I was struggling to maintain balance as everything was either leaning or falling to the opposite side of the truck. “Nah, still too deep in there at this angle.” I braced myself as I watched Johnny grab the lower half of the truck, digging his hand into the ground slightly, before lifting the entire thing, into his hands and over his head. Johnny was military pressing the car above his head. It wasn’t even being held at a good angle as he was holding up the car solely on its front, the truck’s bed in the back hanging with nothing underneath. I looked out from the open door of the truck to see Matt and Henrietta with still dumbfounded face. Neither of them could get a word out. I was shocked Matt wasn’t saying anything since he was a car fanatic. He was too busy with his hand in his pocket. Henrietta’s legs were crossed as if she was holding something in. “Here we go” Johnny called from below as he stuck a big finger into the machine and began to skillfully rearrange the workings. I could see below me well enough to understand that this wasn’t a challenge for Johnny at all. His thick biceps were hulking but they weren’t flexed in anyway. There wasn’t any sign of strain on them as he held the truck in his hands as if he were holding a large paper thin piñata. I couldn’t fathom how much power was hidden beneath those thick limbs as he must have been holding the truck on one side with one hand. The metal was bending as it wasn’t crafted for someone to hold it the way Johnny did. It was clearly bending to his will like wet clay. “Sam, turn the car again” he commanded. I spun in my seat and turned the key again, producing a loud neigh from the car. Johnny carefully moved to the side and slowly lowered the car before letting it bounce on its wheels. My jaw clenched as I heard his next words. I knew he was joking but it still stabbed me in the chest. “Seriously guys, is this your first time working a car?” At that moment I realized my cock was hard and had grown to its full 8 inches, something very hard to hide. Matt was bent over so I couldn’t tell what his expression was but a spot in his jeans was wet. Do gods even have limits?
  18. The Instagram Takeover, Ch 1: #Jacked

    We've all seen those shirtless studs on Instagram.... have you ever wondered what really motivates them? I have most of this story written, and will post it in 3-4 Chapters over the next few weeks. I can modify/make changes if there are any comments. Enjoy..... Day 1: Aidan Hunter Aidan Hunter was 25 and unemployed. He lost his job downtown when the Radio Shack closed. He felt like a total loser. What a stupid idea to start a career at that shitty place, he thought. He spent his days scrolling through his Instagram feed, looking at hot guys and fitness trainers, trying to get some motivation. Aidan would sometimes comment or ask nutrition and training advice. But he never got a response. They get hundreds of comments on every photo, why should they respond to me, he thought, glumly. And he really did need motivation. At 5’ 8”, he weighed a doughy 180lbs. His skin was wan from being indoors all the time, and he had no energy. He was looking for a new job, but having no luck, and it really discouraged him. And to make matters worse, his mousy brown hair was already starting to thin out. Who is ever going to hire a loser like me, he thought, as he looked himself in the mirror. His grandmother knew he needed a boost of some kind. One day, she got the idea to buy him a 3-month membership in the local gym. You need to get out of the house and be active, Aidan. I hate to see you sitting at home alone all day long, she said. Aidan reluctantly took the membership and went down to the gym. Day 1: Zac Smith Zac Smith was the polar opposite of Aidan Hunter. At 23, he had it all: a huge two-bedroom condo downtown, a brand new Lexus sports car, and a thriving business as a personal trainer. He stood 6’ 3” and weighed in at 240lbs of rock-solid muscle. He was in such high demand as a personal trainer that he only had to work 12 hours a week, earning $400 an hour. Zac had always been fit and handsome, and had grown comfortable trading on his looks. All I have to do is smile at a girl, or flex a bicep for some queer, and they just give me shit. Zac wasn’t the least bit self-conscious about using his body. He grew up poor, raised by a single mother who had to use her looks to keep food on the table for her growing son. Zac didn’t judge her for it. You have to use the gifts God gave you, she would always tell him. He agreed wholeheartedly. He also had an Instagram account with over 100,000 followers. And in reality, this is really where he made most of his income: through product endorsements. All I have to do is take off my shirt a couple times a week, pose with some product, and they send me money, he would laugh to himself. Suckers. He also had some “clients” who were extra-generous. Most of them he never met in person. He would simply mail out a generic training plan, with some casually sexy demonstration photos. Then he set up an Amazon wish list with everything you can imagine on it: groceries, clothes, work out gear, racing bikes, electronics. One client even bought an all-expenses paid vacation for Zac. First class only, was his stated requirement on Amazon. All he had to do was flash his dazzling smile, and whip off his shirt. And the sad queers, sitting at home perving over him, would just send him stuff. Day 2: Aidan Aidan got to the gym after the morning rush was over. He knew his way around the equipment, but he didn’t want to run into anyone he knew from school. Look at that loser, they would think. Nothing to do all day but go to the gym, and he’s still fat. Much to his surprise, he looked up and saw Zac Smith with a client. Aidan and Zac were a couple years apart in high school, although they hung out with different crowds. Aidan had been following Zac on Instagram, and was impressed with his build. Maybe he can give me some tips, Aidan thought. He stood up and waved just as Zac walked by. But Zac didn’t even look his way. He was staring at his phone, checking his Instagram account. He glanced up for a second, and just kept walking. It’s like I’m fucking invisible, Aidan thought. Aidan turned on the treadmill and started to run slowly. He was working up a good sweat and decided to increase the speed. The treadmill took off faster than he was expecting, and then stopped suddenly. Aidan lost his balance and almost fell, twisting his ankle in the process. He was really pissed and decided to go home. Day 2: Zac Zac never woke up earlier than 9am. He would do his crunches and then post some casual selfies. Do something today to make you better tomorrow, he wrote, a lame caption he copied from another account, as he grinned into the mirror in just his briefs. He added the usual hashtags: #jacked #flex #chestday #biceps #abs #gains. In reality, planning those selfies took a long time. He would take several shots to test the light, using any number of selfie sticks that he owned, and then try to angle his torso so his abs or chest or jaw would be prominently displayed. Show these fools some skin, add a pointless inspirational quote, and let the money roll in. He posted the photo and within minutes he had over 500 likes. Today he had an 11am client. Some rich old queen who just wants to look at me for an hour, he laughed. I basically get paid $400 for counting three sets of twelve! Gotta remember to wear the extra tight shorts today. He was always checking his Instagram account to see how many followers he had. Getting to 500,000 followers would yield six-figure endorsement deals, and maybe even an underwear modeling contract. A million followers would likely lead to a television show. There was no telling how far his body and looks could take him. The day he broke 100,000, Zac posted a dozen shirtless selfies, all with some variation of “So grateful to all my followers! Choose to see the glass half full! #abs #gains #muscle #teamZac. See link in bio.” And on that day, that link led to his Amazon wish list, which now had a $110,000 Lexus sports car on it. Within an hour, someone had bought the car for Zac. His benefactor was a handsome 40 year-old television executive named Jesse. Zac was wearing his tightest polo shirt when he went to pick up the car. A blow job would be really nice too, said Jesse, dangling the keys in front of Zac. Sure said Zac, laughing. Go ahead and suck my fat dick. This wouldn’t be the first time he let a guy go down on him. Oh no, you’ll be sucking me, said Jesse. And if you are good, I can send some very lucrative endorsement deals…. And maybe some TV appearances to you. And with a body like that, how could you not be an underwear model? Zac hesitated for a minute as he did the calculus in his head: but he quickly decided in favor of the car. This payday can be worth millions, he said, trying to justify it. He wanted to make a really good impression, so he stripped slowly in front of Jesse, revealing his rock hard 8-pack first, then his enormous 52-inch chest. In just his briefs, Zac got on his knees and sucked off Jesse, who blew a huge load of cum down Zac’s throat. Zac didn’t really enjoy swallowing cum, but like Mom always said, Gotta use the gifts God gave you. And when it was all over, Zac was driving off in a new sports car, and with the business card of a very important TV producer. Next: #Boomerang
  19. This is the second story, and the first time I use that kind of measure numbers. So please don't be anger if they are to unreal. And maybe give soms tips. While Colin and Fred are having a good time, the father of the boys was visiting his father. He had say to the boys that he and his wife were going on a holiday together. But his wife has her vacation in Italy while Tyrone was sleeping on his favorite place, his old home. The grandfather of Colin and Fred was living on a farm, a couple miles driving from the city. The reason Tyrone and his wife has split vacations was that they were on the edge of a divorce. They hadn’t told the boys, because they wanted to wait till it was all clear. Tyrone knew it was his job to do it. He ha find out his wife was sleeping with other man, from her work, the husband of her friends and even the old teachers of Colin and Fred. He was flipped out when he had found out and threw her out of the door. He knew he didn’t love her anymore, and that the only reason he should stay with her was for his boys. He knew his boys where strong, strong enough to service the divorce. With them most of the year on college they shouldn’t get much of it. He has decided he should tell them when he got back from the farm. But it wasn’t that far yet. First of all, he should help his dad with all of the work on the farm. The farm of his dad was surrounded with meadows, and with the summer it means the grass was grew to hay. And that means Tyrone must help with father with driving the tractor, move the hay bales and picking the fruit of the trees and the bushes. When he arrived at the farm, his father was already waiting. Tyrone’s father was a big, muscular silver daddy. He only wear an overall without, what Tyrone didn’t know, underwear. Robert, as Tyrone’s father was called, enjoys the feeling of his member rubbing against the nail dust. Robert helped Tyrone with his suitcases. When they were on Tyrone’s old room he wrapped his big, muscular arms around Tyrone and pick him up in a big, bearish hug. ’It’s good to have my boy back.’ Tyrone grinned. ‘Thanks pop. I have looked to this moment for the whole summer.’ Robert put Tyrone back on his feets and smiled. ‘Good to hear. So, why aren’t you changed clothes? Then I make a cup of tea.’ Robert leaves the room and closes the door. Tyrone saw another overall hanging on his side of the door. He smiled and walk to his bed. He starts undress him and pick the overall. He put it on. Memories of when he was younger were flying inside his head. He shaked his head and walked downstairs. Robert was sitting on the kitchen table. Two cups of tea were standing in front of his. Tyrone sit down and Robert shove one of the cups to him. He smiled. ’There you go boy. Have a drink, and then we immediately can start with the apple trees.’ Tyrone smiled and blew in the tea. Robert turns himself and opens a door. Behind there, there was a fridge; Tyrone never knew it was there. The fridge was full of bottle of what looks like milk. Robert picked up one of the bottles and put it on the table. ’Here, try this.’ ’Whoa dad. I never knew you had cows.’ Robert smiled in a mysterious way. ‘Just try it boy. You should like it.’ Tyrone picked the bottle and put a little bit in his tea. He stirs his tea and takes a gulp. He immediately feels some warm feeling running across his body. And then there was that sound, like when your standing in a bubblegum factory and the gum was stretching out, only 1000 times harder. Tyrone starts to sweating and looked to Robert, who was only smiling. ‘Dad, what happen?’ Robert stood up, takes place behind his son and unbutton the buttons of his sons overall so his chest was visible, like with his. He placed his hands on his son’s chest, where two, big, meaty, juicy pecs were starting to form. Robert cups the two pecs and whisper: ‘Just relax boy. Your dad is right here, everything should be alright.’ Tyrone breathe heavily, but he knew he had to trust his dad. Robert always knew what the best was for him, so he knew what he was doing. Tyrone looked to his arms. They were growing, like balloons were under his skin. He yells: ‘Fuuuuuck’: when he cock erected and shoot a load, directly into his boxer. ’Hmm, yes son.’ Robert whisper in his ear, still rubbing the growing pecs of his son. ‘Feels the growing heat. I know it feels strange, I feel it to when it first starts with me. But when it’s done, you should feel great, powerful and mighty.’ Robert was right, with the growing, there was a feeling. A relaxed feeling, Tyrone start to lie against the back of his chair. He feels his father massage his pecs, it feels so good. He lay his hand on the had on his father. He looked up, directly in the eyes of his father. ’Thanks dad. I feel so good now. Like when I was young and you always protect me. But now I’m the one who protect his sons.’ Robert slowly kiss Tyrone on his lips, slowly putting his tough into his sons mouth. A French kiss of ten minutes was the thing that happen. Then, Robert let go. ‘What about we measure you?’ ’Sound great dad.’ Robert left the kitchen and came back with measure tape and a paper sheet. He measures his sons new muscles. Arms; 20 Inches, Waist; 32 inches, Tights; 27, Calves; 17,3. Then, the two came by the muscle they have left for dessert, the beautiful, round chest. Robert lays the measure tape around Tyrone and looked him into the eyes. ’Hmm, pretty good score boy. A perfect 55 inches.’ Tyrone wasn’t listening; he looked to the two pointy, silver dollar nipples. Robert saw it and softly strokes the nipples. ‘Something caught your eyes boy?’ Tyrone nodded. Robert takes the face of his son again and gave him a long, passional kiss. ’I got the perfect place for our first time. But first we must work.’ Tyrone nodded and wait for a moment, wondering if he can ask. ’Dad, I love your body.’: he stroke his fathers six-pack. ‘Can we please work in our boxers? I want to see as much from your perfect body as I can.’ Robert grins and takes of his overall, his cock slapping against his belly. ’I got a better idea, we work fully naked. Who care if someone see us. I got you now.’ Tyrone kisses his father in happiness and whisper: ‘Will you please undress me?’ Robert nodded and takes of the rest of the overall from his boy. He looked to the dick and the grapefruit-size balls of his son. He take the hand of his boy and whisper: ‘Come on boy. We’re going to work. I think I attack you with all my lust if I don’t get anything to do soon.’ Tyrone and Robert walked outside, knowing this was the beginning of something beautiful.
  20. 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...."
  21. Packmates part 5

    Part 1: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3688-packmates-werewolf-muscle-growth-part-1/ Part 2: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3689-packmates-part-2/ Part 3: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3691-packmates-part-3/ Part 4: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/4032-packmates-part-4/ At 3 o'clock the next morning I still hadn't gotten to sleep. Snow, Bruak, Ragnar and Logan were all laying with me but they'd managed to nod off. I couldn't shake what had happened out of my head, I was in a war. Suddenly there was a knock on the door before it was opened and closed loudly. Ragnar didn't wake but Snow and I did so we went to investigate. "Help us please!" cried a croaky African voice as we got to the main hallway and found two men stumbling down it. One was bleeding all over the place and the over was dragging him. Immediately I rushed over and began to help him, using the healing magic Miranda had taught me as Snow dashed off to find her. The wound was very deep, he'd almost been cut in half and he was losing a lot of blood. I ripped off my shirt and began to wrap the wound I then instructed everyone who had gathered to do the same. I was hoping to staunch the bleeding and buy the guy some time whilst we waited for Miranda. He was breathing but very weakly and I didn't know if he would make it. "Please, you have to save him... I-I don't want-" "It'll be okay" I assured. "Out of the way Layton, I'll take it from here!" cried Miramda as she sprinted down the corridor holding some kind of crystal in here hand. I immediately backed away and allowed her to approach just as Asad appeared. "Winston! Arthur?" he called as he broke through the circle of on-lookers. The uninjured man immediately grabbed him in a hug and began to shake slightly. "It'll be okay Winston" he said softly as tears began to brim in his eyes as he saw Arthur's wounds. An hour later I was sitting in the kitchen making tea for Asad and Winston - who had finally stopped crying. I couldn't think of anything to say, from what little we got from Winston we found out that their entire werelion Pack had been killed, the Mutts had managed to blow up their car just as they were leaving the airport. The only reason Winston and Arty had managed to escape was because they'd been shoved out of the way by their Alpha. We still didn't know how Arty had been injured because Winston had been too upset to say. We sat in silence for awhile before Ragnar eventually came. He hugged us all tightly and took Asad away, leaving me with Winston. I managed to convince him to get some sleep, so I took him to the American's section and spent the night with him and two men called Chad and Chuck who had offered us their bed. There was a very somber mood the next morning, after our run we found out that Arthur had survived the night, but there had been no word from the werelions and they were presumed to be dead. We went about our business as usual, training and eating but when the evening came everyone's spirits were so low that we barely ate. Seeing how down everyone was Ragnar got us all to get changed into something comfy and return to the main hall. When we got there there were sofas and comfortable seats for everyone, blankets, food and a warm fire. "We've all been pretty shaken by the news of the loss of our brethren. I want us all to be together at this time, to comfort each other and prepare for what is to come" said Ragnar as he walked towards us. We all moved into the hall and began to fill up the space, we shared seats with each other, lay down together and began to talk. Everyone let out their anxieties and their grief, our thoughts of what might happen and what we hoped we would achieve. After and hour or so there was a knock at the door and Arthur entered the room. He was in a wheelchair and Miranda was pushing him, he didn't seem to be in any pain but his wound still hadn't completely healed. A green salve had been rubbed all over it and was now drying, it smelled pretty awful but no-one cared as we all gathered around him to greet him, Winston had immediately ran over and had kissed him before taking control of the wheelchair from Miranda. Ragnar then led the two of them over to where he was sitting and gave them space besides him "I'm glad you're okay Arty" he said softly as he put his hand on his shoulder and kissed him on the head. Arty just nodded, he hadn't said a word since the accident but Miranda had said it was just due to the shock of almost being cut in half. That night I don't know if I ever saw Asad. After losing his Pack he had become reclusive and kept to himself, Winston and Arty handled the news better because they had each other but we still didn't know what we were going to do with the last three werelions in existence... That night as I lie awake, surrounded by my slumbering pack I decided to do something useful with my sleeplessness. I used my short ranged teleport spell to hop between the sleeping wolves towards the exit and then through the door. I didn't hear anyone stir so I assumed I'd gotten away unnoticed. I went to the library - which had thankfully remained at a normal size - so that I could study. I found a book about werewolf anatomy and began to read, perched in the cushioned window alcove with a warm fur blanket wrapped around myself. I was studying werewolves as I wanted to know exactly what I was becoming. As I neared the end of the book I heard footsteps approaching. My childish instincts kicked in and I turned off my reading light and pulled the curtains over the window before teleporting to the small space behind one of the armchairs. I didn't feel scared, in fact I felt excited as I caught a glimpse of feet. I hadn't been noticed yet and the urge to leap out at the visitor was becoming stronger. They approached a bookshelf near me and scanned one of the rows before plucking a book out and promptly leaving. I knew it had come from the advanced magic section so I was curious as to who else had decided to stay up for a late night study session. I followed them silently along the corridors, using what I'd learned from living with Ragnar to sneak around. They turned into one of the living rooms in the American wing. Knowing that it'd be empty I decided to go into the room next to it as I could hear voices as they entered. Pressing my ear against the wall and attempting to use some of my werewolf characteristics that I had obtained from my first bite I listened in to their conversation. "He doesn't know yet, only the circle do. The ritual should go off without a hitch but he might not like the results and if he does then we're going to have to deal with an angry Demi-God whenever something bad happens" said one of the voices. I quickly processed what they were talking about and realised that it was me. "Well I'd prefer it if Hircine just took over. Layton's just weak" spat one of them. "Hmmph of all the people Ragnar has to choose from it makes you wonder why he chose him, a light breeze'd probably push him over and we're meant to bend over and submit to him in the middle of a war? We need strong leaders not some stuck up Oxford brat who probably can't even lift a sword." muttered another. "Well he's still human... If he were to accidentally fall... No maybe that's going too far" said a more familiar voice. I didn't listen to anymore, I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes and I didn't want to risk getting caught so I put the glass down and crept into the hallway. I cast a muffling spell and then ran along it to the grove. I knew it wouldn't be cold as it had been enchanted to stay humid in order for the exotic plants within to survive. I walked over to the padded arbor and curled up in it. I'd never been able to handle people talking about me behind my back, it made me so angry. I could feel tears streaming down my face, hot from my burning rage. It was then I realised that I was sweating too, my body getting incredibly hot all of a sudden. Then alI I could feel was a searing pain all over my body. I saw a figure enter the grove but before I could cry out I blacked out from the pain. Buck In the morning I was feeling unexpectedly refreshed. The feeling of sleeping amongst everyone had made me feel at home. However when Ragnar's pile of men began to stir there was a sudden tension "Where's Layton?" called Ragnar as we all looked around. When there was no response we all jumped into action to find him. I followed Logan as I knew he'd be one of the first to find Layton. He crowded around a large stone door with Fenrir and Ragnar who then opened it. We all stepped inside and I was amazed to see a garden full of beautiful fauna and standing in one of the white arbors was a shimmering blue woman and a slumbering man. When the woman saw us enter she smiled and nodded at Ragnar before disappearing in a swirl of leaves. Ragnar and the rest of us then immediately paced over to the man. I didn't recognise him at first He was at least seven foot and about as broad as the arbor he lay in, a day old beard had grown around his chiseled jaw and his jogging bottoms had torn and fallen off him. "Layton?" questioned Ragnar as the figure opened his eyes "what happened?" "I-I don't know," he mumbled as he curled up against the arbor and seemed to realise that he was much bigger than before "what happened to me?" "I don't know right now, c'mon lets get you inside" Ragnar said soothingly as he helped Layton to stand. His trousers barely held on to his waist and everyone could see that he had clearly grown in all aspects. However it was hard to find his godly muscles attractive as he looked incredibly pale and sickly. Ragnar ordered everyone back inside and then Logan took all of us on the morning run. Though we took a shorter route as everyone wanted to get back as quickly as possible to make sure Layton was okay. Logan When we returned the Grove was locked and Bruak was guarding the steps to Ragnar's room. When I approached he stepped in front of the stairs, blocking them out completely with his enormous green bulk. "Sorry, no interruptions. Ragnar's orders" "Is he okay?" I asked, still moving towards him. Bruak put his hand on my shoulder, his thick digits were about the site of a baby's arm. "He's going to be alright, now run along before I make you" he teased as he grinned down at me from behind his enormous muscular gut and bed-sized pecs. Growling I walked off, not wanting to seem intimidated, for if I wanted to get past him badly enough I knew he wouldn't stop me. Though it'd certainly be hard. "See you tonight then I suppose, I hope Snow share's his food" I taunted, grinning back at him. "Heh, I've hope you've tasted Orc before. Wouldn't want to break you little guy" he replied. "I'll get him back for that later" I thought to myself as I walked back towards the main hall where Breakfast was being served. "Yo Fen" I cried as I swaggered towards him and the other Alpha's (who were overseeing the hall). I stood next to him but he still towered above me. "You know what's going on with Layton?" I questioned. "Keep your voice down dumbass, you'll find out later. Now sit down and eat" he growled. I went to take some food off of his plate but he grabbed my hand "don't even think about it" I went and sat with the British Pack members, I hadn't really met any of them but I was trying to work my way around the Pack and they knew Layton best so I could find out about him too. That night I walked back up to Bruak's watch post, this time he smiled and let me past. He slapped me on my ass as I passed, making me grin and get slightly aroused. When I got to Layton's room I was sporting a full on boner, luckily no-one inside paid any attention. "Logan, come here" ordered Ragnar from his seat next to Layton. I darted over and looked down at the bed, some colour had returned to Layton but it was hard to tell as there were hundreds of intricate silver tattoos all over him. "He's finally ready" said Ragnar as he stroked Layton's head. I couldn't hold back my smile, I didn't care about Layton becoming a Demi-God, he was becoming a werewolf and that's all I cared about. "When will we perform the ceremony?" I questioned, knowing it'd have to be soon. "At dawn, it should take all day" replied Ragnar. "Go and tell everyone to prepare. Their new Alpha is coming" Layton I woke up feeling heavy, I could barely lift my head and my body was numb almost as if it wasn't mine. "Layton?" I strained my head to the side and saw Ragnar looking down at me, smiling broadly. I attempted to move to hug him and found that I suddenly flung myself at him. Catching him off guard "W-what happened to me?" I asked, holding him tightly and resting against him. "It's okay, you just passed out. Your body started to adapt too, we think you might've gone through 'blood fever'. It's when a werewolf with only wolf blood experiences extreme pain via emotion or physical injury and so it's body adapts to defend against it" explained Ragnar. I understood what he had said and knew what he was about to ask "I wasn't hurt" I stated as he began to hug me back. "What, or who got you so riled up then?" he asked, Ragnar his voice dripping with concern so much that I almost didn't notice the anger. "Just... The usual crap. It doesn't -" "Cub, blood fever is dangerous. You need to tell me everything" replied Ragnar. I pulled away from him and nodded, before letting him know what had happened. "Well after the ritual you can deal with them how you please. Just know that I chose you because of your heart, your kindness. I don't care about anything else." he replied, kissing me and crawling into bed with me. "You're going to become a werewolf at Dawn..." I smiled nervously "Will I be okay?" "Well look at yourself, you'll be fine" I looked down and saw my godly body, it was covered in tattoos and patterns made out of some kind of salve. I recognised them from the book I had read last night. I felt more at ease and began to smile, I was finally going to be a true part of the Pack. The ceremony took place outside in the larger garden. I was lying on some kind of stone altar and everyone was kneeling around it, they all had similar tattoos on their chests (they were all naked) but no where near as many as me. Ragnar stood above me in his wolf form. "Brothers and Sisters of the Pack please join me in the blood pact for the coronation of our new Alpha and the conduit for Lord Hircine. Everyone began to speak some kind of pledge but it was in a different tongue that I couldn't recognise. Suddenly their tattoos began to glow and slowly so did mine. "Layton, do you accept our gift?" asked Ragnar. "I do" I replied as o gazed into his eyes. "Do you accept the responsibilities of being an Alpha?" "I do" "Will you join your spirit with Hircine?" "I will" I replied, not fully aware of what I was getting into. "Then as Alpha, I shall impart to you our gift" replied Ragnar as he leant down and kissed me on the forehead before taking a huge bite out of my chest, the tattoos that used to cover it remained however like a spectral skeleton. I cried out in pain but I didn't black out as Ragnar began to lick the wound. Miranda then stepped up and placed a large silver crystal on my chest. "Hircine, we offer you this man to use for your survival. As Alpha he shall be in charge and you will aid him in anyway you can" she called out as the sun crept over the altar. The moon was still high in the sky and I could feel it beacon to me. After a few minutes the stone began to grow and my body began to reform, the wound completely closing up and leaving a crescent scar. An hour later the stone stopped glowing and my body began to tingle as small dark silver hairs began to sprout all over my rapidly expanding body. When the sensation finally stopped Ragnar helped me off the altar and I looked down at the Pack, realising slowly that Ragnar and I were at least thirty feet tall. "All rise for your new Alpha" called out Ragnar. Our Pack immediately obeyed, I smiled at them all and heard Ragnar whisper "Roar" I felt something stir inside me and it forced upwards, I let out an ear splitting roar and eighty percent of our Pack immediately lay down and bowed. "Now the rest of you will fight him" said Ragnar grinning. He then turned to me and kissed me passionately before saying "You'll have to shrink back down though" I grinned at him and we slowly shrunk back down to a more suitable height for brawling. "Beat Layton and you'll become Alpha instead. Though if you lose he'll put you in your place" said Ragnar as he sat down on the stone altar. He then started pointing at the Pack members who were still standing one by one and ordering us to fight. I barely had to try to beat them until I was pitted against an Alpha. Angus and Alpha were the hardest to beat but they only required about half my actual strength. Logan on the other hand was a lot stronger than I thought. For such a small guy he certainly was strong, I almost thought I was going to lose to him as his epic biceps flared up around me as he attempted to tackle me. I held my ground however and soon I had him pinned. Snow and Bruak were just as hard, though Bruak's extra weight made him slightly harder. Though it made him so much more comfortable when I had him pinned to the floor. After two hours my only opponent was now Ragnar. He grinned at me and stood up "Now this fight is optional, it just determines who's dominant in our relationship" he explained. "Think you can beat me then?" I taunted, moving closer to him. "Oh I'm sure of it" he replied, stepping even closer and touching my arm. "Go for it" We began to wrestle and scrap with each other. He was stronger than I'd ever imagined, I was pushed to the limit trying to beat him. Though he was also baring his teeth and snarling a lot and soon it was getting to me. His overwhelming dominance, his masculine scent and powerful body was beginning to make me feel submissive. "I knew it Hircine, I've surpassed you" he whispered, as I felt myself give up. "Heh, now I get to really let loose on you, cub" Ragnar flirted as he bared down on me. The rest of the Pack were all submitting to Ragnar along with me. We both began to grow back to our maximum size, our sweaty bulging muscles rubbing against each other as I felt his now building-sized cock brush against my eager hole. As he entered me my senses heightened and I cried out in intense pleasure as he began to fuck me. Every thrust making the ground shake, his feet pushing themselves into the dirt. The other Pack members were all drunk with lust watching their godly Alpha's mate. After what seemed like I year I felt Ragnar release a lake of cum into me, it's warmth filling me up. I was shooting all over his chest and as he stood back up he licked it off his hand and watched as I used his cum to expand even more until I blocked out the sun from the entire Pack. "Now Layton, you get to fuck everybody else. Go wild" I now realised why the ritual would take all day. As the sun set I strutted over to Bruak. He immediately began to lick Snow's cum off my bulging pecs so I held his head against them and began grinding on his stomach. "Hope you're ready Bru, I could still go for another hour or two." I grunted as he tweaked my engorged nipple. The I slowly lifted him up until he hovered above my eight foot cock. As I impaled him he let out a war cry and began to clench my cock with his right ass, pumping it and getting me even more horned up. My cock swelled within him as he continued to lick my chest and armpits, burying his face in my hairy cleavage. When I was finally finished he was still cumming gallons. The rest of the Pack were either sleeping, passed out or growing from my cum. "Impressive cub, didn't know you were such a dom" called Ragnar as we embraced. "Might just let you have a go with me" he teased before grabbing my ass.
  22. An Adverse Reaction (Part 2)

    Hello all, Part 2 of Adverse Reaction. I hope you enjoy, will need ideas for my next story, so please feel free to message me with suggestions. For the next few days, Nick avoided me wherever he could. I didn’t see him for several days initially following the unusual events that took place in the gym shower. I had continued to grow all the way back from the gym at a much slower rate; it seemed over the next few days that I also continued to grow increasingly more powerful in the gym. My lifts were going up and up and so was every part of me. I couldn’t believe how strong I was getting, it was like a dream come true. However, despite clearly trying to avoid each other it was inevitable that we would bump into each other in such a small flat. That day came almost 8 days after the shower incident. I was struggling to squeeze myself into my old clothes. My slender jeans and slim fit tops were now discarded in the back of my wardrobe as they split when I put them on. Either that or they fought with pecs for space or dug into my arms and shoulders with incredible discomfort. Now I had to settle for baggy jeans or baggy shorts and my old hoodies or sports jerseys. Unfortunately I owned very few, and all my shirts now, began to stink of man after about 4 hours of wear. Apparently whatever my body was now kicking out, it smelled strong and powerful, just like the rest of me. I waited for a day when Nick wasn’t in. It was a plan that required patience, but I found that my new persona was hungry for a change in the dynamic at home. I grinned as my phone chirped. I looked down and opened up the grindr profile, I had paid extra to have the full app and get the notifications, because it was all part of the major plan. My grin was because, some new pics of me had sent my sexual appeal into the stratosphere and I was enjoying my new found appeal by fucking tight ass like a man in a desert, drinking water, for the first time in months. One new revelation out of all of this, was an increasingly dominant and slight sadistic streak in the bedroom, which had proceed to have grown only stronger in keeping with my outward appearance. I loved to watch down over my newly minted pectorals to see them suck me off, their eyes fixed on mine. The power of it. I knew I was getting hooked on it as a sensation. However, I also knew my plan involved me having to put that to one side, to achieve what I wanted. Knowing what I liked as a dominant in the bedroom, I began to talking to fellow dominant muscle guys. Guys who could gift me the very thing I craved. More power. Posing as a fit, athletic submissive, I found it tough to find the right dominant. Until today. I knew my housemate was out. The timing was perfect. This guy was just right. Arrogant and rude. Older by 15 years. Married with kids. Bulging with muscle and hung to fuck. I couldn’t steal from a guy like me, I had to take it from someone with ego, someone who looked down on me. Someone who only saw me as an inferior male specimen. The phone chirped again. As was the plan, he was coming right over from the gym. I had to be ready for him, on my knees, wearing a sports vest and a jockstrap. I looked over at the bedside table. There waiting for him, fresh from the gym, was an ice-cold, orange coloured protein shake. As I heard the handle of the front door turn, I was on my knees, I picked up the protein shake and held it out in front of me. If this worked, well… This was going to be amazing. He entered. He said nothing, but snatched the shake and kicked me backwards onto the floor from my kneeling position. I dulled the malevolent look in my eyes and watched as he drank the post-workout shake as I had offered to have ready for his arrival. If it tasted of anything, he did not express it. I watched his thick, powerful arms hold the shaker aloft. Sweat streaked his huge physique, he wore only a black string vest and some loose red gym shorts. He kicked off his shoes and stepped towards me. I could smell his fresh, fierce gym scent. My face in line with his crotch, I could smell his uncut cock. Suddenly it kicked in the light polyester shorts. It surged towards me, huge. Bigger than Sam. He growled as I massaged his legs, the organ pulsing to life, growing hard and thick. Moments later, he had lost control, grabbed me by the vest and the jock, shouldered his way into the bedroom and dumped me on the bed. Only, this was Nick’s room. I didn’t have time to correct things, as this guy was on me. Using me for his own pleasure. His cock pulsed down the length of my back, he grabbed me by the neck and I felt the searing pain of his cock enter me. It was brutally painful and I grunted, but he stifled it with one big sweaty palm over my face. He rammed my face into the bed, forcing my ass up. My hands gripped the edge of the mattress and I was forced to breath in my housemates acrid stink, which would have previously made my own cock harden. But I was becoming a different creature now. I wanted to fight back and push this asshole off me. But I wanted to grow. I had to be right, it had to be this luminous orange shit Sam had been necking everyday. The guy behind me, grunted and laughed at my apparent pain. His organ really was monsterous and he was damn strong. I could hear the wooden bedframe, creak, that unmistakeable sound of wood splitting as he ploughed me. Nick’s furniture moved across the floor between each, titanic thrust. Then it happened, I felt his cock thicken, and then thicken again, straining my hole. I felt him began to fire round after round into me. The change, was immediate. I felt it inside me. Like a spark to a freestanding pool of diesel. I ignited. My head rose up. “Oh fuck yes… FUCK…. YES….” Was about all I could utter as it ripped through me. Energy, masculine energy suffused my limbs. I felt my ass kick back, my thighs bulge with new mass. Fuck, I felt strong. My back cracked and I lengthened up the bed. I grinned as it hit my shoulders. I was no longer able to hold onto the roleplay fantasy as I felt my shoulders undulate and widen, lats surging in power. “Yes… I’m g-growing… This is fucking amazing…” I felt the softening cock slip out from me. I rolled over and saw the expression in his face. It was a face I had not seen before, a mixture of revulsion and desire. He loathed watching me grow but desired it for himself. He was torn, he felt drained, he wanted to leave, but he needed to know how too. I extended my longer legs over the bed, sprung forward with my strengthening arms and stood in front of him. I grinned at him only now slightly less tall than him, but in a split second, the margin vanished. I growled again. My pecs surged and thread of my vest creaked and split at the shoulder. I inhaled deeply and the split widened into a tear, revealing the bulging mass beneath the fabric. Another tear, this time from below. He looked down and went pale. His prior former glory, soft and hanging limp, looked smaller than he had every seen it. It’s mass, very obviously being siphoned into its opposite number as my small jock was being shredded by the growing mound of my package. I laughed as it tore open the jock at my right hip and my newly grown organ fell forwards, thick, large and pointing menacingly at him before it pulsed larger again. My nuts beneath, not left out from the transformation. I brought my arms up and flexed, they bulged with power. My features refining, my masculinity surging as he, went the other way. His previous bulging ripped physique, was still big, but much softer. He was shorter, looked less masculine but I mostly seemed to have drained him of his cock, which looked woefully average now. He looked between my taught biceps and his own softer upper arms as I flexed, I was captivated my their shape and bulge, a big thick vein now across the surface of my left bicep. I looked back at him. “Now fuck off, or I’ll take more…” His trainers made a plastic squeal as he made for the door, stumbling twice over his now, too large shoes. I grinned, turned to Nick’s mirror and flexed. This was amazing. It would be several more days before I could take this new found ability and turn it back against Nick. Had I felt any pang of morality about going through with it, it seemed to evapourate with my last growth. I considered, I was becoming no better than Nick or the asshole who just saw me as a convenient hole, but somehow, I didn’t seem to mind. ********* It was on the day when I had no more clean sports jerseys to wear that I squeezed my newly bolstered frame into the biggest tee I had. Instead of looking ridiculous, I looked incredible. I was never going to hide myself again I snickered, watching myself in the bathroom mirror, my biceps straining the sleeves, chunky veins emerging from beneath the cuffs and my new enhanced pectoral shelf straining the shirt. Just looking at myself made the sleeping organ in my jeans pulse. As I was about to flex in the t-shirt, I heard the door to the bathroom swing open and Nick stepped in. He was dressed only in a towel. “I need a shower” “Yeah, I’m nearly done Nick, you can wait 2 minutes” My blood burned as it pumped through me. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I had stood up to Nick, this was incredible. He looked at me malevolently. As I finished tusseling my hair with wax in the mirror, I gazed admiringly as my biceps swelled at bulged as my hands worked on my coarse, thicker hair. I glanced across in the mirror, Nick was watching my arms too as our eyes never met. “Right, all yours bro…” I grunted and exited the shower, smiling at the unmistakable hardening of Nick’s thick organ against his towel. He would never before have gotten aroused by me, but I couldn’t be sure if it was his protein that caused it, or whether Nick had always been secretly attracted to muscular jocks. As I walked out of the bathroom, it dawned of me that Nick would be in there for some time. His room would be unguarded. Checking over my shoulder, I crept into his room. The scent of his room more familiar now that my own bedroom was developing its own masculine scent. A quick glance across the counters and floors, did reveal that Nick had been entertaining Jenna recently. He left the very thing that I wanted, just lying there. I grinned and got to work. I traced the edge of my water bottle with a finger through the car ride, its precious cargo the only thing I could think about. Nick’s malicious gaze continued to drift from the traffic ahead onto my swollen arms, the size and obvious power, stretching the sleeves of my previously baggy t-shirt, whereas his underarmour hid what he had clearly lost very well. He had managed however, to quite easily convince himself, he was no less of a man than he was the previous week. As we arrived at the gym, as we exited the car I took my first gulp of my water bottle, the lemon juice not really disguising the digusting taste of his ejaculate. I loved the feeling of pure energy as it burned down my throat before setting a raging fire within my gut. More suddenly than I expected I began to feel myself grow as we crossed the car park, I could feel the arms of my t-shirt dig into hardening biceps, my burgeoning arm reached down to readjust my package which was becoming rather uncomfortable in my new jock, I bought to replace the previous one. “Stop playing with yourself…” Nick scolded his voice breaking as he did so. I loved the feeling, watching him wilt as I grew stronger and stronger. It was hard to avoid the temptation to drink all of the contents of my shake, but I resisted. I walked over to an empty weight bench, the agreed exercise to be shoulder press. After a quick warm up, I grabbed his usual working weight and hefted it over to him. He looked a little anxiously at the large imposing dumbbells before turning his face into a snarl. He hardened the look as he got his arms into the perfect start position with a little help. I stood back and took another big swig of the potent protein shake. On his second rep and his arms visibly twinged as his muscle thinned, his face strained as his arms struggled. “Bro…” he struggled growing red in the face As his face glowed so the change rocketed through me, I could feel my chest swell outwards. My tee was now edging towards dangerously snug. The end of my shorts were now rubbing the top of my knee and not the top of my calf as the flourishing muscle and elongating limbs, pulled them vertically. I positioned myself behind him, and applied a very firm pressure from beneath his elbows to help with the weight, but he still struggled, the contours of his elbows feeling flatter and softer. His weakening arms inched upwards a little more before stopping, as his muscle ebbed, it felt like I was draining it right out of him. Nick’s arms collapsed and the heavy dumbells came clattering to the floor, he leaned forwards onto his knees totally spent. Before we switched seats I took another big swig of the shake. My weight was less than Nick’s but much more than I would normally throw around. I hefted the weight into position, getting one up with the help of a quad, as the undeniable cracking of the hem of my shorts resounded in the air of the gym. I pressed the weight, from my stance I could feel the bulge in my underwear swell, the feeling of wellness and masculine power bolt through me as I pressed the weight, after the second rep, it felt light. It felt like the worlds best pump. But I knew better, I was growing still. I racked the weight, and grinning, watched Nick’s face fall as I grabbed more weight. I restarted shoulder pressing the heavier dumbells, now matching Nick’s weight, it was tough at first but it got slowly easier as I felt my growth continue but at a slower pace. The delts fought back hard against the taught fabric, the power of the muscle winning out on the fifth rep, as two seams cracked. The protuberant muscle tearing the fabric apart. I grinned at Nick who looked white with shock. The sixth rep, forced the muscle to bulge larger again, the stronger, harder, steely muscle tearing more of the seam like a knife through butter. I felt the pressure around that shoulder relax and I grunted a lewd moan, feeling the sinew burst from its cloth prison. “Oh fuck yeah… growing…” I grunted. I turned to the mirror, bringing both my arms up displaying their new expanded form. As I gently flexed, more cracking was audible. I drank in my new form, whilst openly taking long stares at Nick, he seemed weaker by the second where as I was empowered. My skin seemed to glow with vitality, my features more masculine and edgy and my eyes sparkled. I couldn’t remember, ever feeling this good. I think, looking back on it now, objectively, this would probably have been enough to address the power balance in the flat, to bring things back to an even keel, but something inside me had grown stronger too. I felt that “evens” wasn’t enough, I didn’t even wrestle with the desire, I simply gave into it, to the temptation to take more, to feel the power course through me again. I chugged some more protein shake and suggested some lateral raises. Nick for the first time, seemed almost defeated but agreed. I watched as we moved over to the smaller free weights. I watched Nick gingerly pick up the 8kg. “Shoulder injury…” he coughed, by way of an excuse for not using his normal weight. I watched as he began the exercise, his weakened musculature, struggling with the small weight. His arms shook and sweat seemed to pour out of him. I grabbed heavier weights and began exercising next to him. My eyes firmly locked onto the powerful body I barely recognised in the mirror, Nick looked on, watching striations burst out of my skin into prominence. Exhausted he let the weights hang by his side as I grabbed heavier ones. By now, I could feel others in the gym watch as my shoulders swelled and veins pulsed over the surface. I wracked the dumbells and brought my arms up into a flex. The swollen arms and shoulders, openly tearing the arms of my vest with audible cracks. “YEAH!” I roared, totally absorbed in this power, not caring how the transformation was affecting not just my body, my whole personality. On reflection, how many of us could be in this situation and not take it all, how many of us would turn down the opportunity to be elevated above others. Maybe, the old me could have turned back on it, but the testosterone tearing through my body, urged me on, pressing me to turn the knife in Nicks wound. At least, I tell myself it was that. Before I could pose again, Nick was gone. I glanced over to see him slip back into the changing rooms. I grinned, casually following him, sauntering through the gym, as other guys eyed my new form, probably the first time they’ve ever noticed me over my flatmate. In the changing rooms, Nick stripped and hurried into the shower. I could barely stop myself from grinning as my ruined workout shirt hung off my surging frame. I gently peeled the remains off, letting it drop to the floor as my chest caught my eye. Not only was it distended with muscle, but a fine coat of hair was now generously coating it, only adding to overstate the power and evolutional masculinity behind such a display. My thickened legs were swelling as I padded from foot to looking in the mirror, eagerly flexing my now bulgy and rounded biceps, the forearms crammed with veins and distended with a sickeningly thick spread. I chugged down the last of the precious shake. My eager guzzling causing the odd drip to land haphardly on my swollen pectoral shelf. Even as my left hand casually quested for it, I felt it absorb into my skin. It was like my body was adapting to Nick as a source of food. With my legs rolling over each other, I made for the shower. I knew Nick would want to once again try and put me in my place, with the only advantage he still had. I deliberately entered the shower, facing an opposite shower head to Nick. I felt the familiar surge within me, the change was coming, and this would be a big one. I knew Nick had his back to the shower head, as he always did, any excuse to show off his almighty package to anyone who would glance at it. I glanced out of the corner of my eye, his once proud muscle, softened, his hard look now distinctly puffier and flatter. His once thick neck, now looking thinner and less impressive. His typically rounded biceps looking more fusiform and slender. Yet, I was still aware his package had remained large. In his rush to get into the shower, he hadn’t appeared to notice the other changes to his body. “You think that I wouldn’t notice Sam?” He said suddenly, as I felt my back begin to furtively thicken. “Notice what bro…?” I asked innocently, turning halfway to face him. “You stealing my protein powder… It’s really good stuff bro, but I’ve hidden it now. I’m not sharing anymore with you, so enjoy the growth, because believe me, when I get back on it, I’m gonna make your life pure hell” He grinned at me his features malevolent. His hand reaching down and palming his thick, long piece of meat, grabbing the base, he gave it two quick tugs. If he registered that it didn’t seem as big, or as long as usual, his face didn’t reflect that. “However big you get, you’ll never be bigger than me where it really counts” He said laughing. But his laughter died away when I turned to face him. He drank in the image, watching, as my muscles seemed to bulge bigger. His mouth moved wordlessly as if trying to speak but unable. I felt the dragon roar up within me as power streamed through my body. I felt my legs lengthen, taking my growing profile in higher, I couldn’t believe how strong, how powerful I felt. “Alright fine…” I said finally, breaking the silence “But… I think you’ll find Nick… that I’m the one bigger where it counts and if I’m bigger, you have to suck it…” I continued Nick, his eyes darting between my chest, abs and, what was now a bigger than average flaccid cock. “Heh, I’m still bigger bro, you got yourself a deal. And if I’m bigger I guess that means you have to suck mine!” he grinned. “well… alright then…” I said feeling my growth slacken off again He began massaging his cock, it would have been impressive by anyone’s standards, of course, anyone that hadn’t seen Nick before this week. Now as I played with my own thicker, longer tool, it felt great as it engorged and grew hard as steel, the whole throbbing pole feel amazing in my hand, better than ever before. What I presume Nick used to feel. My bigger, swollen balls, pulsed with energy, my skin on fire. To my surprise, Nicks cock thickened obscenely, hanging lower and lower as he caressed it with a fist, soon it grew harder and began rising up, pointing straight at me. My sword rising to meet the opponent, like the calm before a joust or fencing tournament. He stepped forward, my eyes angled downward to meet his, I was growing taller. Again if he registered this, he chose to ignore it. Instead, he grabbed my big thickening pole and pulled me in closer toward him. But I grinned as I felt his purple, engorged cock head jab into my abdomen. My own cock, falling just a few millimetres short to do the same to him. I watched Nick return the smug, arrogant look plaster all over his face again. “Heh, you know, I’m gonna enjoy this…” he smiled, placing a hand on my thickened and bulging shoulder. I tried to look dismayed as I sank to my knees, the flexion making my quads bulge and distend. I’m not certain if Nick noticed much of what was happening, but glint in his eye suggested that somehow he was oblivious. I gazed upward, with as much of an innocent intent as I could muster, made all the easier as he gently slapped his cock against my mouth. I didn’t even have to time react as he bucked his now seemingly slender hips forward and penetrated my mouth with his thick organ. I concentrated on supressing my gap reflex and kneading the rigid shaft with the breadth of my tongue as he firmly handled the sides of my head for his own pleasure. As he thrust in, I could feel the last of the effects of the tainted protein shake start to slacken, but things were already accelerating toward my eventual victory as I watched Nick sneer, his legs buckle and toes curl. His insistent and powerful thrusting increased in intensity but weakened in power. I could take his cock more manageably in my mouth; I knew my grip on his legs strengthened as those very legs diminished. Then I felt it, before he knew about it, before even the tidal wave of his cum hit me. I felt the spark of power deep within me, grow hot and brighter with every passing second. I focussed on feeding that sensation and sucked hard on his cock and it felt like the dam burst within him as his cock pulsed and rope after rope of his thick white ejaculate launched into my mouth. I felt like I had the energy to run a marathon or move boulders, as I continued to suck hard on his organ. Within seconds, my thickened musculature began to grow again as I took everything Nick had to offer. I glanced up at Nick, his head back, totally gripped in pleasure, his eyes half closed. I watched as I saw his chest weaken, his abs lose definition, and his thighs lose the impressive thickness. I knew his cock was shrinking too as my mouth now held his whole length easily. I also knew exactly where it was going. On my knees, my now impressive slab of meat between my legs was hanging over a bigger pair of bull balls and grazing the wet tile beneath my legs, with every passing second, I felt it reel out and rest on the tile like a python. I couldn’t physically wait to see the new me, but I could feel myself growing larger and stronger by the second. The feeling was indescribable, save for the undeniable and unassailable power that coursed through every inch of my body. As pleasure washed over him, he placed a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, as he looked down, curious about the sheer size and breadth of the rugged, rock hard shelf he had gripped on to. As our eyes met, I licked the head of his cock clean and pulled the much shorter, dare I even say small, cock from my mouth and grinned up from the floor at him. He said nothing, as his eyes darted around my newly enhanced body. In a split second, his cock bucked and he came again, only managing two single ropes this time as it shot out and hit my chest. He watched as it absorbed into my skin and my pecs swelled even more freakishly than before. My shoulders widened and a involuntarily growl escaped my throat as I grew again. He fearfully stepped back, that’s when he noticed his transformation, in the opposite direction. “Whu- you… you took it?” “You gave it…” “No… I would never give it…” His voice sounding hollow and almost childlike “How…?” he ventured “I think it’s your protein, it’s nothing I’ve done” I said flatly I rose to my feet. I had grown so large, I put my final height at maybe 6’4, maybe more, my muscle, huge, thick, maybe 250/260lbs easily, eager and desperate to be used. I looked down at him, gone were the protuberances of his muscle, the towering, masculine height. His cock limp and shrunken. Despite this, his wolfish good looks remained, and the innocence in his face made his eyes sparkle even more. There was little more to say. He took one last look at what used to be his before turning and running. By the time I had gotten back to the flat that night, he was already gone. His stuff was mostly packed, he’d left most of his clothes, since they no longer fit him but he’d packed the important stuff. He left the weights and the bench. But I suspected that now they would be too light for me. I walked into the kitchen, not unhappy with my current situation. I wore only a pair of sweat pants, my big, muscled physique clearly on display, my obscene bulge displayed through the thick cotton fabric. I smiled as realised Nick left all his food, kitchen supplies and his vast array of supplements. But, on closer inspection, there was a gap above the refrigerator, my new vantage could show me that there was a footprint where something used to be. Nick had taken the experimental protein shake with him.
  23. An Adverse Reaction (Part 1)

    Hey guys, my first story on the forum, hope you enjoy, will post up a part 2 shortly. “Sam… SAM, GET IN HERE!” I hadn’t realised that I been instinctively cowering when his voice boomed across our flat. My friends first pointed it out when my hulking roommate invited himself out for drinks with us. It did come as a bit of a surprise to me when they told me this, mainly because Nick had never actually hit me or even threatened to, it’s just that I felt, like somehow, Nick could just bend my will. One of my closest friends at the time said I shouldn’t cower, like a puppy, but stand up to him. I could hear the strain in Nick’s voice though and I hurried into his bedroom. The sight and smell assaulting my senses as I entered; the smell of man went right up my nose in the first inhalation. It was sweat, stale sex, rich testosterone and damp, a kind of damp that you can only find in a student rugby players bedroom. It made my cock kick in its loose, thin, cotton sweats. Then of course, there was Nick, dressed only in a pair of boxers, with his weight bench sat upright, holding one of his 45kilo dumbells in both hands and grinning devilishy at me. “Dude, shoulder press… hand me the other 45!” his dark brows and long but spiked hair giving him a wolfish look. Dodging an empty takeaway carton, a discarded jock, a heap of college notes and at least one used condom, I picked my way to the dumbbell. The smell intensified as I got nearer to him. “Come on man, gotta get this done before Jen gets here” he grunted. I bent down, carefully raising the heavy dead weight. I hefted it over to Nick’s waiting hand as he got into position. I licked my lips as his biceps bulged as he flexed his arm into position. Both his thick pecs flattened out and his delts swelled freakishly, choked with veins from a pump. “Stand back” he ordered. I would like to say I watched, to say that I spotted him, but Nick was a tornado of male energy. A guttural roar emanating from his chest as he flexed the weight soaring toward the ceiling, his form disturbingly accurate. As his arms reached the maximum height, the clink of the dumbbells and the exposure of his forestry of pit hair, made my organ start to pulse in my shorts. As he went for more reps, so the smell escaping from his pits intensified over and over. The room filled with his scent. Looking back, I think that is one of the things that made me capitulate to Nicks demands as my flatmate. As the grunting continued, his shoulders and arms steadily bulging bigger from the pump, I quietly left the room wordlessly. I crept back to my smaller bedroom, put my hand gently on the top of my strictly average, rigid member, and felt it fire off into my pants. My legs weakening, I sank to the floor. My own varsity swimmers physique, feeling childlike compared to Nick’s hulking body. Soon, Nick’s girlfriend would be here, and I would be listening to them go at it for a few hours. I realised that I should probably try and get some sleep before it all kicks off. After cleaning up my own mess I walked down to the kitchen for a pre-bed snack, as I did, I thought about how Nick and I started off fairly evenly matched, how we were actually good mates who moved into this small, penthouse flat, off campus together. The weight set, the benches, bars, all bought with combined part time job salaries of both me and Nick. Now I barely get to use it. As I walked into the kitchen, I noticed his array of proteins adorning the top of the fridge. Is that all it took to make him bigger than me? Irritable, I escaped back to my room, snack in hand. I woke with a start. The all too familiar, rhythmical banging of Nick’s headboard against his wall had woken me. I decided against languishing in bed, getting a semi from the image of Nick’s powerful body fucking Jenna, his fitness-model cover girl. I skulked off to the kitchen and started making pancakes. Down the corridor of the tiny flat, I could hear Nick step up his rhythm and the grunting got louder. “He’s close…” I thought, before immediately regretting it, as I felt my cock thicken. I poured the milk into the blender and turned it on, which nicely drowned out the noise of Nick’s big finish. As I waited for the mixture to thicken, I again glanced up at the top of the refrigerator. Nick was reasonably busy, so I reached up and pulled down the white looking container. I had listened to Nick extol the virtues to protein, and pre-workout and whatever happened to be flavour of the month at the time. But this… this I didn’t know about. Which was out of character for Nick. I looked over the label, it was plain white with black text. Plenty of scientific writing, this was clearly not something picked up off the supermarket shelves. I couldn’t really argue with the results though. Nick had been getting bigger and bigger, much stronger too, all in the last few weeks his progress seemed to have jumped. But he wasn’t just getting bigger, he was getting leaner too. Most of all, Nick was getting bullish, ordering me around, demanding stuff, doing whatever he liked with little consideration, his new strengthened frame easily backing up his command of me. As that last thought lingered in my head I decided I should try some of the shake. Quickly, not wanting to get caught by Nick, I spooned two tablespoons of powder into a protein shaker and quickly poured water in on top. As I was shaking it, excited to see if I could catch up to Nick, I realised the sound of the blender had been masking the sound from Nick’s room. I reached and clicked the blender off and the swirling pancake batter came to a stop. I could hear the sound of my own breathing, and feel the beating of my heart inside my chest. But nothing else, Nick was clearly finished with his girlfriend. I had to get the stolen protein shake back onto the shelf before Nick came into the kitchen. I hefted the white tub into my hands and raised it above my head. “Dude… you made me a post-fuck shake!” I, almost froze at the sound of Nick’s voice, but managed to get the tub back on top of the fridge. My heart pounding at the thought of being discovered, sinking to the level of deception to try and catch up with Nick’s recent gains. As I turned to face Nick a further reality dawned. Stood there, semi hard, straining his boxers, a wet spot visible, his thick muscular topless torso, hard and glistening with sweat from his recent exertion. Nick’s look was not truly one of thanks. He observed me from underneath his thick dark brow, his bulging muscle giving him a menacing look. “Thanks for making it for me, but next time, don’t… it’s special stuff, only designed for me…” Nick almost growled through gritted teeth. “Tomorrow… you…me… college gym… chest day…” Nick continued between big gulps from my protein shaker. Thumping me on the chest with a meaty paw. I said nothing, as I watched the behemouth, swig the luminous orange coloured shake, small droplets escaping as Nick guzzled greedily, landing hapharzardly on his bulging pectoral muscle. “OK!?” Nick yelled, eyes narrowing, before belching loudly. “Yeah, sure Nick, sounds good” Nick eyed me for a few more seconds, turned on his heel and bounced off back to his room. I quickly retreated to bed, the pancake mixture left languishing in the blender. Tomorrow would be a heavy one. The next morning, I was awoken by the deafening bangs on my bedroom door. My head raised from my pillow to find my unimpressive dick had been erect and oozing all night, probably as a consequence of the thought of a gym visit with Nick. This crush had come out of nowhere, but it seemed to be growing stronger the bigger Nick seemed to grow. I dragged myself to the kitchen; Nick was already there, his tight muscle tank straining to hold back his bulging chest. “Time you got up lazy…” grinned Nick “Ready to go?” I croaked “What do you think little man?” he grunted, pulling a crab pose bursting with ripped muscle. As we walked to the campus gym, across the very quiet and expansive campus, the cold bit into my skin, but Nick seemed not to notice. Somehow, the elements only sought to make Nick even more brutally masculine and dominating. Reaching the gym, we headed straight for the weights section, deserted except for a lone American football player grunting softly between reps of squats. I did my level best not to stare at Nick, but mostly failed. His deep golden tan and his coarse dark hair gave him a wealthy exotic appearance, even as he began to warm up his veins pulsed and distended as his a gentle swell began in his muscles. “Chest today…” Nick said visibly bouncing ready to exercise. I berated myself for once again not suggesting a different body part. I only ended up working chest and sometimes shoulders because these are the exercises that Nick wanted a spotter for. I loaded up the bar precariously with extra 20kilo plates just for Nick. Trying his best to ignore me, Nick swung himself down on the bench and got into position in order to begin the workout. In this position, I was rewarded with the vision of the swell and heave of Nick’s chest. Nick on the other hand, would have had to settle for my crotch disturbingly close to his head. “Ready?” Nick grunted, and grabbed the bar, not really giving me time to react. As it transpired I was not immediately required. The new 20 kilo plates seemed like only an extra 5 to Nick’s mounding chest. He couldn’t help himself but smirk as the weight, no doubt felt lighter and easier to manage, than expected. I watched as Nick revelled in the all too familiar sensation in his chest, the pump soared through him, his triceps bulging as his chest bloating from the impact of the weights resistance. Again he pressed it up with ease, his big python plumping down the taught rugby shorts. This had quite literally meant, that whatever he was taking, maybe that new shake, had made him even stronger since last week. “woah dude… this is insane…” I said quietly murmuring watching the spectacle unfold. I watched on, Nick’s chest bulging and swelling as he grinningly pressed the weight, seemingly with growing ease. His arms didn’t shake and his form didn’t falter. His triceps flared, the veins distending along his arms giving him a look of sheer unstoppable power. He racked the weight without any help from me. When it was my turn, plates came off and I got into position, my head now close to Nick’s obscene bulge in his sweats. Not only did it look big, but this close, I could smell the incredible scent of the contents of his jock and it make the usual feelings bubble to the surface. I did my usual workout, my pecs fraught with effort and arms struggling with my usual weight, I watched Nick spot me, as my arms shook with almost half the weight he used, I looked up to him grinning down at me. This gave me the strength to finish my last few reps, but still, it served only to highlight the growing disparity in our muscle strength. The rest of the workout, I was feeling increasingly unhappy seeing Nick blow through all of his maxes and continuing to set new personal bests. I watched, uncomfortably as he nailed every chest exercise with greater than ever strength, amazed as he seemed to cope with anything thrown at him. I was so envious of his success, I figured I had to make a drastic change in my life or I’d get left behind. As I watched Nick strip for the shower, a common ritual after our workouts, that actually, maybe I needed to even the score. Later that night, Nick was out of the flat on a romantic date with his girlfriend. So I sneaked into his room while he was away. If Nick was taking this experimental supplement, there had to be some physical proof, letters, brochures, consent forms; there just had to be something to give me a clue. I needed to get on the trial. As I picked my way through Nick’s room, I found a cryptic letter from the andrology department of our university, now, SCU wasn’t exactly known for its research but, clearly, they were getting something right. However, before I had chance to read the information, I heard the familiar rattle of keys outside of the flat door, in a panic, I threw the letters back into the draw and slammed the draw shut, however in doing so, the cupboard rocked backwards then forwards. I looked upwards, in time to see the contents of one of Nick’s used condoms flow back out of the untied end and splash onto my forearm. I didn’t have time to react; I just bolted from Nick’s room out into the corridor and ran straight for my room. As I closed my door, I could hear Nick and Jenna come home and begin some post-date “activities”. My breathing calmed and my pulse slowed. My attention was drawn to the burning sensation on my right arm; I looked down to see the bright red streak across my supinated arm. I kept looking at it, it was red, and glowing, but there was seemingly no evidence of the disgusting contents of the used rubber. I was feeling hot all over, not just from the burning sensation on my arm, my clothes didn’t feel right on me. In the privacy of my own room, I shucked my clothes and went over to the mirror. I felt a spasm in my gut, then, suddenly, an intense warm glow spread through my body. I looked at myself in the mirror, my pecs hardened, abs tightened. I looked on in amasement, feeling sheer power tear through my body. My traps seemed to thicken, my delts pushed out from shoulders, giving them a fuller, rounded look. I was even convinced I was taller. I felt my legs precipitously thicken, I watched the inner head of the quadriceps surge into view, which only happened when I flexed, and yet, I wasn’t flexing. I looked up at my face, for the first time since I started college, I felt that I looked handsome and healthy. A grin unconsciously spread across my face. I had no idea how this happened, but I absolutely loved it. I posed for a little while longer. Feeling the bulge and play of my newly developed musculature, the heady experience of being taller, if only a fraction… Best of all the sensation that I must have a semi, except my cock was fully flaccid. I gyrated my hips watching the new piece of meat bounce around. It got hard easily and I wrapped my hand around it. My legs nearly gave way as my cock began firing round after round across the room, ribbons of pure white spunk blasted out and still my cock bounced in front of me, as if to fire again. I tucked the raging pole back into my strained boxers and glanced in the mirror. “Fuck yeah” I grunted, trying to flex my abs. Only, I’d never sworn into the mirror before… or actually… in many years. My stomach growled so I went to the kitchen dressed only my boxers. The bulge still present as I walked, for the first time, it seemed to bounce up and down gently as I walked along. I got into the kitchen, surprised to find Nick there, sat alone at the table, also dressed only in his boxers. He looked pale, and not in his usually arrogant vigour. The pale palour even made him look a little less masculine than normal. “You ok bro?” I said, sounding surprisingly manly. “Yeah, yeah, just had a bit of a funny turn…” Said Nick cryptically. The next morning, I woke up for the gym. I casually wrapped my hand around a raging morning erection, the cock, seemed bigger and stronger than I ever remembered. I brushed my hands up my thinner waist, across my flat stomach to the new shallow contours on my chest from my thickened pectorals. My hand found its way to the alarm clock, but it seemed I had awakened before my alarm clock, before Nick had the chance to wake me. I felt incredible after last night’s dramatic turn of events. Not only mentally but physically. I could feel energy just seem to stream out of me, I was ready to lift. The thoughts of stealing Nick’s new experimental protein shake could not be further from my mind at the moment, as a night’s sleep and deliberation had led me to the conclusion it was probablyresponsible for the effects of his potent spunk. I dressed, in front of the mirror, looking at my new body. I smiled as I quickly gave my arms a flex and my fresh, new biceps jumped up in my arms, now slightly less egg like, now definitely more fusiform in their appearance. Quietly dressing and walking out into the corridor, there was no Nick waiting with an annoyed glare, so I made for the kitchen. Nick’s half eaten breakfast was still on the table as he was filling up his protein shaker. “Y.. you’re up?” he croaked. I looked at him, he looked sleepy and tired. He rubbed his eyes and kept blinking at me. He was haphazardly dressed and his hair matted down to his head from the sweat of his night time activities with Jenna. “Are you ok dude?” “Err, just feeling a bit rough.” He answered, still staring at me. “Dude… did… you look like you, *ahem*, you’ve been making progress in the gym…” He continued, still staring at my chest. “Yeah, I think you might be right dude.” I replied, desperately avoiding the urge to show off my chest by flexing in front of Nick. He prepared his shake and we headed out. In the car, as we drove, I could feel Nick’s eyes stealing odd glances at me. I began to regret wearing the sleeveless top as I wasn’t sure if he was actually paying attention to the road. I could feel my balls tingle at the thought of a workout, I couldn’t wait to test my new muscle and I couldn’t wait to show Nick that I was capable of catching him up. As we arrived at the gym, he turned to me before we exited the car. “How did you do it dude?” “Do what Nick?” “How did you get bigger, we only worked out together yesterday, and now, you’re bigger… how?” “Nick, are you ok? I’m the same, just been working out hard.” “Dude, seriously?” “You’re delusional, now drop it” I growled with an uncharacteristic aggressive tone in my voice. Nick clearly got the message and promptly stopped asking questions, but his dark stare intensified. In the gym, Nick’s chest workout was woeful, his lifts were slightly down, he grunted and flailed with his usual weight and made much use of me as spotter. Clearly this bothered him, because he was getting progressively sharp in his statements as the hour wore on. When he had first removed his hooded jumper, he looked sick and, almost smaller. I however, was having a great workout, I loved the feeling of my chest bulging outward, the stretch of the fabric against it, the surge of the feeling of power and pride throughout me, setting new strength goals, took all my focus not to get rock hard. Whilst this was going on Nick, eyed me jealously. I could feel his cold dark eyes burning into me as he reluctantly spotted me for a new personal best. Before we could hit the showers, Nick insisted we do a flat bench press. I felt this was more of an exercise to prove a point instead of the training value of adding in another heavy set, complex lift at the end of the workout. As I pressed the weight up, I felt my body burn with exertion, I felt amazing. I added almost 10kg to my previous bench from yesterday, even with exhausted pectoral muscles from the previous hour workout. Nick racked up his usual weight, and through much straining and gritting of teeth and of course, some help from his loyal spotter, was able to do a few reps at his usual weight. As he racked the weight, it was clear the point he was trying to make, had not been as clearly illustrated as he had hoped. As he stared at me I obliviously fondled my swollen chest muscle. “What?” I asked “Nothing, lets hit the showers…” he said grinning for the first time today. Nick’s mood seemed to improve here as we entered the changing room. As he rather quickly undressed, I rolled my eyes, knowing what was coming. “Coming to shower?” he asked, grinning at me, as he intentionally groped his thick, soft cock, though wanting me to believe it as a mere adjustment for comfort. I undressed at the normal speed, grabbed my towel and followed him into the shower. As I walked in, I watched him slowly lather soap into his thick musculature. His soft cock, swinging gently back and forth as his arms worked above him. I turned my head, to glance at his cock, figuring the water must be colder than usual, as it seemed a fraction smaller than usual. As I got myself under a shower head, I looked over at him again. He was looking at me, but our eyes didn’t meet, he was looking downward at my groin. “Dude, come on, you took some of my protein didn’t you?” he said unexpectedly “Look, Nick, I didn’t…” “Listen, I told you to stay away from it.” He grunted, his eyes looking cruel with a darker hue. I glanced down at me, across my now swollen pecs, my flattered stomach, to my soft cock, I then glanced over at him. His cock looked back to its old size if not bigger, as our eyes met. I realised, that his cock was thickening. Never before had I seen Nick like this, his skin flushing, his cock becoming increasingly aroused. “You uh… need a hand there bud?” I snickered. Within a second he was on me, his powerful hands grabbing both my shoulders. When they wouldn’t yield he dragged me, hanging onto my smaller frame, causing us to collapse to the floor. I struggled against the huge bulk of his weight on top of me. A leg each side of my chest, he positioned himself on top of my pectorals, his big, thick cock growing up and outwards towards my face. His cock brushed my lips. “Is this what you wanted? Stealing glances at me all the time? Well, how does it feel now? Enjoying?” He grunted, thrusting his hips forward at the upward inflection of each question. He took hold of his long, engorging rod and smacked my lips with it. “Please st-“ before I could finished speaking, the salty, musky flavour of Nick’s thick member exploded forth as he sunk the head into my open mouth. His powerful thighs extended on top of me as more of the colossally large pole slid into my mouth. I tried to speak, but the organ took up all of my mouth, I tried to remove myself, but his huge legs pinned me. As he held himself up with one of his mighty arms, another steadied my head as he began driving the mammoth shaft in and out of my mouth. As he began pumping, I could feel a familiar burning throughout my limbs that I felt the other night after getting his cum on my arm. I could feel the precum drip down my throat, rather than fight this, I knew to let it happen, I would reach my goals, and Nick, total unknowingly, would help me. If I hadn’t had his huge rod in my mouth, I’m not sure I could hold back the grin I would have had on my face. I felt trapped as his mammoth legs pinned me, as he pumped himself into my face. I had to focus on breathing, but I could feel his pre already start to work on me, the power swelling within me like a tide. Nick was absorbed in sating his carnal urge, I brought my arms up around his muscular waist, I watched as the veins snaked and squirmed their way to the surface of my biceps, muscle fibres thickening, the individual muscles becoming visible in my forearms. I felt great, I wanted this, I urged it to happen. He grunted above, clearly enjoying himself, just as the effects of his pre began to slacken, I felt his hips increase speed an intensity. As his orgasm ripped through him, I could feel his seed fire into the back of my throat again and again. Greedily, as best that I was able, I sucked down as much as I could handle, gleefully knowing it would be my flatmates undoing. He grunted once again and then withdraw his mighty organ from my slickened mouth, shook the last remnants of his pure white spunk onto my chest. “You tell anyone about this… and I’ll end you…” His powerful body swaggered off back to the changing room, but yet as I watched him leave, I thought I could see a little less definition in his expansive back. As I lay there on the shower floor, I felt the seed I had just swallowed get to work on me. Slowly it burned in my guts, filling me with ever increasing power. I knew then, his act had given me strength beyond anything I could have achieved in a year of gym visits. I felt my ass thicken, broaden and push me up from the floor, I felt less of the floor as my back broadened and dense muscle moved in to cushion the bone. I jumped up, my stronger powerful legs growing at a pace. I glanced down to see my pecs swell, my flat stomach, flatten even more, the first hints of my abdominals erupt from beneath the skin. I grabbed onto the shower bar as more power bolted through my body. I felt the room lower as my entire body lengthened. My mouth let out an involuntary grown as my neck muscles bulged, reaching my arms up to explore my thickening neck, my new, stronger biceps bulged with power. I raced into the locker room, but I was alone, Nick had long since left, I looked into the mirror and didn’t realise the new, taller, stronger and all round more masculine Sam staring back. I pulled a double bicep pose, amazed at the sheer size and power contained within my arms, I’m not sure the average person on the street would consider them big, but I was on my way. They had to be 15 inches around, I estimated. Best of all, the familiar hardening of my cock, had a most unfamiliar quality to it. Looking down, my erection strained the now tighter swimmer trunks, the bolder individual leg muscles fought the elastic. I as I slipped down, the apparently looser waist band, I was more than happy to see my usually unimpressive erection, looked super hard, but also both longer and thicker. My bigger balls pulsed below it, urging me to lift, urged me to fight and to persue. I resisted however, and redressed myself and made for home, I had a plan. (to be continued)
  24. 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 was a catalyst had 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 “Bilt 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 if FIVE decades! His stratospheric success 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. What was even more surprising regarding the team's success was the 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. 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 list as a couple of inches shorter during his playing days. The other thing that astounded me was his muscularity. He was not just big, he was 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 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, 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 big feet, I'm guessing at least size 15. The bottoms of his legs were covered with white athletic tube sock. 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 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 slightly 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-hyrdrant neck, framed by two huge triangular trapezoid muscles. On top of his nekc 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 lately. 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. 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, buff 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 site 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! 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!
  25. Belly Down Part 6

    This chapter's a little light but it's to make the next chapter more impressive Get ready for rapid narrator change Belly Down Part 6 “Go, Ken, Go!” “Go,Ken,Go!” I was watching intently with as much motivation as I could for Kenny but it was tough to focus on the match. It had taken him two months to grow into quite a celebrity. Kenny would see me every blue moon but I cant say I didn’t evade him intentionally. I could feel something about him change and, in tandum, change me. I used to love his shyness and his extra consideration and even his tight little frame. Then something changed before the break and nothing remained the same. For example— Suddenly, Kenny slammed his beefy opponent on the blue mat and there was a loud smack as the poor guy’s body collided with the soft material. The referee gave the count and an explosion set off in the audience. People who knew Kenny cheered loudly for him. Kenny jumped up and flexed confidently for the crowd and two thick biceps appeared on his arms. My cock shot down my leg as I saw his butt flex in the ridiculously tight spandex. The team ran up to him and group hugged him clumsily almost knocking the entire group down. Kenny was lifted on his team’s broad shoulders in victory. He’d been the last match and he’d devastated his opponent. The guy got up defeated and returned to his group but I saw him for what he was actually doing. Though not entirely, the man’s cock was hardened and poking forward in his hidden jockstrap and was a darker color towards the end. I felt pretty bad for him but it was overshadowed by my happiness for Kenny. I saw him coming towards be for my praise, a big grin on his face, and I almost pulled back. That feeling again. “How’d I do, Casey?” he asked excitedly, waiting for my personal view. I couldn’t take him down after all his work. “Great, buddy, you definitely sweeped him off his feet!” I said. He grinned and flexed a bicep. “He was pretty light for a guy at 189! I think he forgot to eat a few more protein bars!” I tried to keep my eyes to Kenny’s face and he was kind enough to aid. His face had gotten sharper and more masculine in the last two months. His eyes sparked more than before and flashed occasionally with a kind of inner light, making his eyes bluer. His freckles had reduced greatly and were fading two by two everyday. His cheekbones were stronger and higher. His brows were bigger and shapely, framed by his stronger brow. All of this was framed in a jaw line that flexed when he flexed anything. I dared not test him too much in fear his powerful jaw would flare at me. Wait, what? I suddenly thought. Why am I ‘afraid’ of that? Kenny was still pretty gentle although he was more social and more confident. Besides his growth from 5’9 to 5’11 and up to almost 200 pounds of striated meat, he was a teddy bear. “I just felt so much sudden power near the end! I felt so strong!” Kenny exclaimed excitedly, his face a ray of red-headed sunshine to me. I couldn’t be in a more equal form of excitement and hesitation. --- Casey and I were coming back from an early dinner when people started noticing me and I received a shower of cat calls. “Tearing ‘em apart, huh, Ken?!” one of the jocks from the swim team called. “Ken! Ken! Ken!” chanted some quirky looking computer club fans. I didn’t realize I was puffing out my chest as I walked down the street with Casey beside me. Seeming to grow with my own impressiveness as each individual fan passed by and gave me more praise. I looked over at Casey and couldn’t help getting kind of upset. He was still plenty big compared to be at 220 and 6’2 although he’d begun to lose a teeny bit definition, the veins becoming a little less visible, trying to gain a little weight for the upper weight classes. I on the other hand was starting to gain some real weight. My body pushed against my clothes tightly and I felt my butt press against the seat of my jeans, a new feeling but also kind of exciting. My back pushed my hoodie further than before, making the size pointless as my girth started to become noticeable. Why did I wear clothes anyway? I was practically naked at the last competition, after all. Coach was proud of me but he was starting to struggle upping the sizes for my uniforms and tea hoodie. Already the last replacement was pressing against my shoulders, chest, and back more than they did when he’d purchased them for a slightly smaller Kenny at 185 pounds two weeks ago. Plus, it didn’t help I was unsure how to respond to the looks I was getting. Left and right, people were starting to look at me in what I registered as ‘unnecessary’ glances. Sure, my clothes were kind of tight but not super noticeable, right? We turned the corner and I saw it again. A female math teacher whose class I went to last semester was eyeing me like I was a math problem she just HAD to solve. It was a little... uncomfortable for me. I tried to look back kindly and sincerely but it was hard. Everyone always gave me that look as if I wasn’t wearing any clothes at all. I saw Casey look at me too but that was different. I was a little embarrassed watching him look at me that way, making me almost wish my pants weren’t so tight and my legs weren’t so wide and my back didn’t show so much and my waist weren’t so tight and firm. The other side of me was different though. I wanted him to look. I wanted him to see how good I was starting to look and be proud of my accomplishments and show some sign he was interested. I just wish he’d do it where I could see him and not slightly behind me as we walked down the street. “Hey” Casey called. I immediately ignored every other person ogling my tight jeans and turned my neck and raised my eyes to show my attention. “Yeah?” I asked intently. I was clinging to his words and I didn’t know it. “Why does everyone call you that now? Ken?” he asked, looking away from me for some reason. Why wasn’t he making eye contact. The sunset was making his face look redder than usual so I couldn’t tell. Or… maybe it wasn’t the sun? “Uh… long story” I said, trying to brush off what had happened. “You wouldn’t want to hear the details to it.” He looked at me eye to eye now, though his eyes darted down to the ground occasionally. Was he always this shy or was this a new thing? “I liked it when you were still Kenny…” he said, trailing off near the end. I looked at him intently, trying to read his face. “What do you mean, I’m still Kenny” I tried to reassure him. He didn’t look at me when I said that. He passed me and sped up with his longer legs and didn’t say anything but I saw his lips move. Being the youngest and smallest of many brothers who were all much much taller than you, you became adept at reading lips from a distance without getting noticed. Did he say ‘Are you’? I asked inwardly. Nick didn’t say anything snappy this time. Almost as if he thought it would be more fun to let me squirm. --- “Done” said Nick from in my head as though he'd been cooking an egg inside, his voice decipherable but still like multiple of him speaking. I was in the shower again, wiping down my body from the day’s sweat out in the sunset in a hoodie. Spring wasn’t made for thick hoodies. I was rubbing my soap covered hand down my stomach, my abdominals flexing and bunching, the skin glistening as if it were tight to the skin. I’d only just started getting used to looking down and seeing my body, my meek personality giving birth to someone with more physical confidence. “Done?” I said with uncertainty. Nick sounding excited never led to anything good. “Oh, hush, This one’ll be fun” Nick said as he appeared in the reflection of the shower porcelain, his red eyes looking back at Nick. “Your body is barely passable now” he said as he also mimicked my rubbing my legs down but in a more seductive way. God, I wish he could act like my reflection for once. “That’s boring. Anyway, shush up. I have things to say” he said as he put his hands on my now muscular hips and grinned. “We’re going out tomorrow tonight.” “What? What does that mean?” “What does it sound like? Your body is durable enough to do the hero thing.” “Jumping off buildings??” “No, dumbass, I said BARELY passable. We need to let you do smaller things before we head up to that. Tonight’s my last night solo.” I still couldn’t fathom how Nick had tricked me into accepting the fact he was using me like a doll in my sleep. It wasn’t the fact that I was parading around as a super hero all night, my face was covered so no one saw. It was the fact that I was jumping off buildings and crushing cars and running into walls without any permission given. Somehow, we’d come to the agreement that, as long as I don’t get revealed, he could SAFELY have his fun. I wasn’t looking forward to giving him permission to do it. Or was I? "Uh oh, looks like your friend is awake again" Nick chimed. I looked down and frowned a little. My cock was getting harder to keep in check lately and it didnt help it had gotten another inch longer, the 9 inch length wagging with every movement of my hips. With no hesitation, I started rubbing up and down the length, my toes curling as I felt my body parts tingle with the mixed impacts of dropping water and pleasure. I didn't know what I would do if I didn't have two showers a day. --- “We’re here in the central plaza speaking to an individual citizens recognize as ‘The Red Menace’. Thanks to our chance encounter, we’re allowed an exclusive from none other than the super hero himself. Red Menace, what makes you want to come out here and save these people? How do you know when these things are going to happen? Government officials who call this their home town ask ‘aren’t your consistent appearances at these crime scenes a little too coincidental’?” The 5’7 reporting, red lipped, dark haired woman holding her microphone in a tight yellow skirt with her camera close behind her and focused on ‘The Red Menace’ held the silence and waited for the hero to speak. She looked at his lips and felt compelled to come close and touch them with her own. She was trying to hide it but she was already moist between the legs trying to talk to him. He grinned a handsome grin at the question and his eyes flashed a little. “Well Ms. Dare, I’m just an average man walking around like the rest of you. Well on roofs” he started, fueling the nearby crowd with laughter. “I just pass by these incidents, car chases, bank robbers, and crooks by accident. I don’t know what your sources say but I have nothing to do with these crimes. I just come and save people. If these ‘government officials’ really are that suspicious of me and this city, they might want to do a favor to the public and fix it themselves. Until then, I’m going to give you all a little hand. Cool?” With that, the Red Menace jumped up into the night sky towards a nearby 10 foot building and was gone in the blink of an eye. The reporter, Ms. Dare, looked off into the night, looking as though she wanted to chase after him but she pulled herself back. She looked back at the camera flustered but forced herself into one piece after her encounter with the hero. “Bb-Back to you Jeff” --- A single man in red suit leaned back in his comfy chair, his eyes on the television. His broad shoulders competed with the wide chair and his hair slicked back in a simple fashion. His angular and fierce features were more imposing in the dim lighting. The entire room’s theme of red made him fit right in with his sinisterly dark hair and his reddened, flashing eyes. He remained straightforward and didn’t react to the flashing of the large flat screen tv over his fireplace as he glared into it. “Bb-back to you Jeff” the screen said before he roared and made the tv crack and shatter with the overpowering sound. It was like a terrifying reach of death’s hand coming and yanking your mind out. “There’s no need for any further investigation, Musisin, your peer has gone astray” the man said as he turned around and faced a man on the opposite side of his desk. Unlike the rest of the room, the man on the opposite side seemed younger and didn’t match their surroundings with his blue tie, blue skin, and white hair. He looked petrified in his stance on the opposing side after watching his duke destroy the nearby television with merely a shout. He was too afraid of having his head sliced off by the man’s large and imposing frame. His red glare seemed to cut through him almost. “You have one job. Find him, kill his vessel, and collect him. I don’t know what type of experimental mess he’s creating now but I won’t have it without any kind of consensual request. Is that clear?” he boomed to the blue-ish man. “Sir, yes, sir” To Be Continued…….
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