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  1. dredlifter

    The Librarian - Chapter 5

    Chapter 1: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14262-the-librarian/ Chapter 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14459-the-librarian-chapter-2/ Chapter 3: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14606-the-librarian-chapter-3/ Chapter 4: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15004-the-librarian-chapter-4/ ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Chapter 5 The experience with Jack lingered with Tom for the rest of the night. A permanent grin seemed to be plastered to his face. Since Jack was going to be in town over the weekend, the two had agreed to meet up again before he headed back to his hometown. The experiences of being a 'big man' were happening more and more and Tom didn't mind one bit. Any little reminder of his burgeoning size was welcomed with aplomb. In his own home he noticed how his shoulders would rub up against the walls of the hallways and doorways were previously he could walk through his house easily unimpeded. His shirts, newly purchased during his latest clothing run, felt more snug in all the right places. The observant man had also been noticing more glances from the adoring public as well. From men and women alike, these onlookers were unable to hide their jealousy, awe, and lust as his exposed arms became larger and leaner and his pecs pushed against his shirt as if he were hiding two toy dirigibles underneath. And he couldn't be happier. Even the downside of being larger couldn't dent his enthusiasm. The rising costs of his clothing expenditures and grocery bills would that would've once made his face contort in displeasure, now only made him smile as he knew his new clothes were going to a good cause: showcasing and emphasizing his growing assets. Tom was finally beginning to feel that he was ascending to a true muscle hunk. By most people's accounts, he was already there. And while Tom was stoked, he wanted more, and he was going to get it. Tom had recently polished off the first tub of the mysterious growth powder after about a month and half. Once it was empty, he brought back the second and final tub to his house. While the slow steady growth was with the powder was more than he could ever dream, the intoxicating feeling of further growth spurred him on. Tom was becoming greedy for more, faster growth. In the past couple of days he had begun to mix one scope into a protein shake that he could sip during the day, keeping his body in a constant fueled state. It may have just been a placebo effect, but he swore he could feel himself growing as he sat at his desk. Of course, this turn led to frequent trips to the bathroom to relieve some pressure. The next day Tom was due for his annual physical so he headed to his clinic after a heaping healthy breakfast of eggs, blueberries and almonds. After checking in and spending a few minutes reading the latest Men's Health in the waiting room, a middle-aged nurse, along with a pretty teenage girl, called his name. “Tom, nice to meet you. My name is Anne and my partner here is Lisa. Lisa is a local high schooler who is shadowing us today as part of job placement program. Is it ok if Lisa joins us? “Of course, Anne. It's nice to meet you.” Tom turned and smiled down to Lisa. “And you too, Lisa.” It was immediately evident the young woman was completely smitten by Tom. As the group walked to the back rooms they chatted. Moreso, Lisa giggled, played with her hair and Tom even spotted her biting her lip. Another ego boost for the buff librarian. Anne led Tom into a small supply room with chair, a scale and stadiometer. “Tom, please have a seat. Lisa, go ahead and take his blood pressure.” Lisa grabbed the black blood pressure cuff hanging on the wall. The sound of tearing velco was heard and she opened it up. Tom couldn't help but notice the awe in her eyes as she hiked his sleeve up revealing more of his massive biceps. Tom lifted his arm as she reached the cuff around his arm. She then stopped, confused. “Ummm...Anne? What is the cuff doesn't fit. His...um...his arms are too big.” “Oh yes! I should've thought of that when I saw him. This is a typical problem with you bodybuilders.” Tom chuckled and apologized for causing problems. “Oh, it's no problem at all and it's an easy fix. We can simply grab another unit and use the velco to link the two cuffs together.” Anne grabbed a second cuff, stuck the two cuffs together and then wrapped them around Tom's upper arm. Anne's amiable personality couldn't prevent her from commenting with a giggle. “Just be sure you don't flex, Tom. We don't want to have to get a THIRD cuff!” Tom chuckled and agreed. He remembered how a single cuff had so easily wrapped around his arms in the past. And now he had outgrown a typical medical instrument sized for normal people. “Screw normal,” Tom thought. “Bigger is better.” “Ok, Mr. Kemper. Let's just check your file and confirm your stats. Let's see, forty eight years old, 180 lbs. Hmmm...” Anne flipped the paper on the file and Tom immediately new why. “Anne, that is my file, I did weigh about 180 lbs last year, I can assure you that is me. I hit the weight room pretty hard this last year.” Anne laughed and relaxed. “Oh my goodness, that is quite the transformation! I was going to say, I've weighed tons of patients and I knew there was no way you could be 180 lbs! Well, I'm glad I've got the correct file. Ok, well I suppose we better update this with your current information. Lisa, would you mind weighing Tom? Also, since you are new to this equipment, go ahead and check his height so you get used to using the stadiometer.” Lisa had Tom stand on the scale and looked down at the small digital screen with Lisa. She read the numbers as they were revealed. “He is 260 lbs, Anne. Wow, Mr. Kemper. You have put on 85 lbs since last year! And I can see it is all muscle. You must work out a lot.” A satisfied grin formed on Tom's handsome face, making Lisa smile back at the handsome, muscular librarian. It took all he could not to bone up or moan as his new weight was revealed. Sipping the growth powder through his work days was indeed working as he had put on nearly 15 more lbs in just a couple short days. Lisa then had Tom move to a nearby platform. “Ok, Tom, would you mind standing on this over here? Lisa, how do I get this bar to unlock? Oh I see, thank you. Ok, Mr. Kemper, I'm going to raise this bar until it rests on the top of your head, stand up straight please...ok. Anne, he's six feet four.” This time Tom couldn't hide his surprise. “Wait, are you sure? Lisa, can you recheck?” “Sure, Mr. Kemper. Ok...hold still. Yep, 6'4”. Six foot four and quarter to be exact.” Anne walked over to confirm the measurement and then scribbled on her clipboard. “I guess we'll have to update your height as well, you must've been mis-measured whenever you last had it done.” But Tom knew the truth. All his adult life, since high school, he had been measured at 6'3. Had he actually grown in height too? He would bring this up while talking with his nearly shell shocked physician. “Well, no, Tom. I don't think you have grown in height. I know many adult men wish they could grow a little taller and while it may seem like you have, I bet your height can attributed to your astounding physique development. Ever since I started as your doctor a few years ago you've always been a tall but very slender man. You always had slumped shoulders as if you were slouching. If you recall, I often told you to eat more and start going to gym. I'm glad you finally took my advice, but I never thought you would take it to this extreme! What I'm assuming has happened, as your muscles built up, your spine strengthened and your posture has corrected. It's really not unheard of.” Tom thought back to his years as a string bean an realized the doctor was correct. For years he had been so devoid of muscle that even when standing he seemed to hunch a bit. “Thomas, Dear, please stand up straight,” his mother would say when he was in high school and even later in life when he visited his parents as an adult. It was absolutely true. It was another notch in Tom's belt to becoming the alpha male that he always longed to be. With his new frame he had ascended to the staggering height of 6'4. While 6'3 was legitimately considered tall, it seemed that most considered 6'4 to be the start of the 'very tall' tier of manhood. And Tom was now there, at what he thought was the perfect height. Taller than most, but not so tall to make life difficult and more importantly, not so tall that is was nearly impossible to put on thick, striated muscle. His dick fluffed up some more in his pants as he relished his new status. The doctor continued his examination. “Tom, now please, if you are doing drugs or something I really want you to tell me. It's my job to make sure you are healthy. I can't share you information, you know.” Tom debated telling the doctor about the mysterious powder, but elected to keep it a secret. “Doc, I promise I'm not taking steroids, if that's what you are getting at. I've been taking normal supplements, protein powders and such. And eating like an elephant and lifting like a gorilla, but no illicit substances, I swear.” “Ok Tom. I believe you. I had to ask the question because putting on that much weight in one year certainly raises some eyebrows. But, truthfully, you were a underweight last year...” Tom chose again not to tell the doctor that most of his gains had come in just the last two months. The doctor then drew Tom's blood for some standard tests. When he returned he let Tom know that everything was in line, except that his testosterone levels were elevated. “But that's not too shocking. You've always had high testosterone levels, which again made me wonder why you were so thin for so long. And lifting weights has been proven to raise levels. So now you are pretty much at the very top of natural levels, congratulations my friend. You have the prime hormonal levels to keep building muscle.” “Thanks doc, glad to hear I don't have a weird pituitary disorder causing this growth. So I'm healthy?” “Healthier than I've ever seen you! Heck, healther than most 20 year olds. If you keep this up you won't be seeing me much in the next few years.” “Haha, thank you, doctor. As much as I like you I would rather not have to see you unexpectedly.” ++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The next night Tom and Ron were finishing up a chest and biceps workout before the weekend. “Nothing like getting a great bar muscles, pump before an epic Friday night, amirite, BIG TOM?” Ron playfully swatted Tom's meaty back. Of course, for the bookworm new PR's were set on every exercise. Failing to resist the temptation, Tom had mixed another half scoop of the special powder in with his typical preworkout shake. Ron could not keep from complimenting Tom and his physique. “Bro, you seriously are starting to look like a competitive bodybuilder. And not just a local one. Like national level. Competitive, national level, dude. Look around. You are the most developed guy in this gym right now! Look at the feathering in your quads. The split in your biceps. You are starting to get VEINS in your lats under your armpits. Jesus, dude. You are making feel like a 98 lbs weakling.” Ron leaned in close and whispered under his breath to his large training partner, “...and bro, I swear your crotch is even more packed lately. Or are you just constantly horny? Haha, dude, because I know how that goes!” Tom laughed at his handsome young trainer. He reveled in being able to awe his studly young blonde friend. Tom knew he was indeed bigger but he would resist the urge to weigh himself. For the moement. “Ron, buddy, let's just say it's a little of BOTH.” “Fuuuck, dude. You are becoming, like, the ultimate jock bro. You getting out there finding yourself some ass?” Tom shrugged and shook his head. Ron glared back incredulously. “Seriously, man? Why not? You are one hot stud. I'm surprised the gay boys aren't swarming on your house as we speak. Get out there dude! Here, try this bar. It's called 'The Barrymore.' It's not a gay bar, but it's gay-friendly. And it's just a cool place too. My crew hits it up every once in a while, we always see hot chicks and dudes of all ages there. Sort of upscale, but not pretentious. Check it out, big man. I bet you would be very popular there!” “Hmm. You know what Ron, thanks. I might try that.” With his ego at an all-time high, our hero decided to venture out that night and try out The Barrymore. In his closet of new clothes, he found a short sleeve white button down that fit his newly developed body like a glove. If anything, since he purchased it last week was even tighter and more form fitting. He especially loved the way the sleeves dug into into his triceps and biceps. First he slipped on some three-quarter length khaki shorts, tight on his ass and crotch. After putting on the shirt he grinned and gave himself a couple of half flexes in the mirror to test the tensile strength of the sleeves. They survived, but he also knew that he hadn't fully flexed. He also brought his arms forward and tightened his pectorals. The buttons instantly tightened and he immediately relaxed. Just to be safe, he left the top three buttons undone. This gave the muscleman the added benefit of revealing the top of his tanned, toned pec shelf. And of course before he headed out, Tom downed himself another scoop of his special powder, just for kicks. Tom entered The Barrymore and was immediately into the calm atmosphere. It seemed to have sort of a 1950's vibe, swanky but relaxed with red velvets and brass fixtures. The crowd was definitely mature, but not in terms of age. There were no rowdy college bros and screaming sorority chicks here. No t-shirts or backward caps. But at the same time no suits and ties. Just a nice, perfect, middle-class casual calm atmosphere for friendly people looking to have a drink and good time. Tom saddled up to the stylish bar and a nice tattooed female barkeep came over and asked his drink. “How about a Moscow Mule?” It was risk, but this looked like the kind of place that may actually serve his favorite drink. Without hesitation the barkeep went about making the cocktail. One minute later a cold copper mug filled with fizzing liquid was sitting in front of Tom. While usually an observant man, Tom had not noticed the stares that were coming his way from various people around the room. For many, Tom was the largest, most muscular man they had ever seen in person. Men and women alike took note of his stretched white button down and that fine, fine ass. One patron summoned the will and made his way toward the unsuspecting librarian. A moment later Tom felt movement next to him and noticed a fit young man taking a seat on the stool next to him. From his profile view Tom could see the man was very attractive. Being summer, he too was wearing khaki shorts. On top he was wearing a form fitting maroon polo shirt that was very flattering to his lithe body. While not huge, the guy was definitely active in the gym. His learn arms were taught and veins snaked along his forearms. The sleeves of the polo hugged his arms and a surprisingly large lump bulged up when the fellow bent his arms. Tom guessed the man to be about 25 years old, 5'11 and 185 lbs with very low bodyfat. He had a slight five o'clock shadow on his well defined jaw and his medium length brunette hair was styled up in fashionable quiff. He had a boyishly handsome face, innocent but mysterious. He reminded Tom of a more fit Colton Haynes. The attractive young man next to him ordered an Old Fashioned and struck up a conversation. “Moscow Mule, huh? Good choice.” Tom raised his glass and gave the young man a sexy grin. The young man continued. “I love this place, it's nice to get away from the college bars. I'm starting to feel old in those places. Too loud too. Blaring rap and pop music. I like to be able to have a conversation when I go out.” Tom chuckled at his new bar buddy. “You feel, old? Heck, a handsome young fella like you sitting next to me makes me feel like an old geezer.” Tom hadn't even noticed his bluntness. He never would've imagined being so forward just a few short weeks ago. The young man turned his head and gave Tom a bright smile. The lad really was beautiful. “Oh? You think I'm handsome?” The young man teased back, making Tom grin some more. “And you are anything but a geezer. You've got to be, what, 35. 37?” Tom just grinned a develish grin back. His ego once again stroked to full capacity. It seemed that the bigger he got, the younger he looked. And he loved it. “A little bit older, than that, let's just say. I'm Tom. And you are?” “Austin. Nice to meet you, Tom.” The two shook hands, each noting each others' firms grips. “And I must say, Tom. You are very handsome yourself. I know this may sound forward, But, in fact, I think you are one of the hottest men I have ever seen. Even though you are just sitting there, I can feel an incredible force emanating from your. It's a combination of your good looks, pleasant demeanor and... ...that incredible body. That shirt looks like it is painted on you.” “Well, Austin. That's very nice of you to say. I'm happy that I can impress you in so many ways. I can see that you are a very well put together man yourself. Don't think I don't notice the way your skin is plastered to your biceps and forearms. Your arms are nice, do you think mine are nice too, my new friend?” With that Tom simply tensed his left arm. It had the desired effect as Austin's eyes zeroed in on the bulging muscle pushing at the already straining sleeves. It wasn't a full flex, just enough to give the young buck a taste of his size. The young man's eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. “Fuuuck, Tom. Your body is incredible. I, um... I've got a thing for muscles, Tom. And you are the biggest guy I've seen. You gotta be, what, 250 lbs?” Tom let out a deep chuckle and took another drink of his cocktail. “A bit more than that. Muscle is VERY heavy. Like you, I'm vey much into muscle as well. Tell you what, buddy. Go ahead and cop of feel of that big arm.” Tom was thoroughly enjoying rocking this younger stud's world. Austin let out a sigh as he slowly reached out his arm. Not wanting to look like he was simply feeling up the massive man next to him, he gently placed his hand on Tom's biceps, trying to make the move look like a natural conversation motion. Once again Tom tightened the muscle at his side and the kid let out a gasp. “That's well over 20 inches of rock solid biceps that you are feeling, Austin.” “Holy shit. I can tell, Tom. Haha. Well, it looks like I'm stuck at this bar stool for a while, I can't exactly stand up now.” “Good to hear, Austin, my new friend. I might be in the same position as you.” The two turned an engaged in a further conversation. Tom was pleased that Austin wasn't just some young dick-chaser. The young man was confident, well spoken, intelligent and charming. First the two engaged in the requisite get-to-know-you talks. Jobs, background and the like. It turned out that Austin was an assistant manager at the nearby Hawthorne Suites Hotel. The two talked about workout routines. It seemed that Austin was more into the crossfit types of workouts, which explained his incredible leanness. Austin listened with rapt attention as Tom listed some of his heaviest lifts. “Holy cow, Tom. So those big muscles just aren't for show? Good to know. Might come in handy later,” the young hunk said with a wink. At various points of the conversation the two found themselves more animated with each other. With the help of the drinks they were able to open up more with each other. This gave them the excuse to reach out and feel each other at strategic points. Reaching over to cup each others hardened delts as they laughed. And soon evolving into reaching under the bar to squeeze legs. Tom took the lead, with his longer arms, and first reached down and gave Austin's upper leg a solid squeeze with his large hands. The young man closed his eyes and exhaled in excitement. A few minutes later Austin returned the favor. Although what he found wasn't just a massive quad muscle. As he reached in between Tom's thighs and slowly worked his way upward he found himself feeling a rather large, tubular bulge. Instead of Tom sighing, it was once again Austin who gasped in awe. He leaned toward his new muse. “Oh my god, Tom. Is that you?” He asked under his breath. “Holy moly. You are rocking my world. You are like a fantasy man. Handsome, smart, hugely muscular...and if that is all you I'm feeling, hung like a fucking horse!” “Austin, my little friend, you are making me feel like the biggest man in the world right now. The fact that I can excite you so much with my mind AND my body is exciting me so much. Tell you what, how you would like to see how all this looks WITHOUT the clothes?” “Tom, that would make me the happiest man in the world. Tell you what, big man. One of the perks of my job is I can get us a great reduced price room at my hotel. I would love to see a posing routine of yours. Maybe we could have a nice mutual posedown and comparison session?” “Austin, that sounds amazing. Let's have one more drink and then we can head out of here.” The two finished their drinks, tabbed out and headed outside once they had both calmed themselves down to presentable levels. Tom had began to wonder if his monster cock might now extend out PAST the leg of his shorts when he was fully hard. While he was loving himself, indecent exposure would sure put a damper on these wondrous times. As they walked, if Tom had been staring at anybody but Austin, he would've notice the dozens of disappointed stares aimed at him as the top eye candy of the bar exited. Once outside the two enjoyed the summer evening air as they walked down the street to the hotel. As they walked, Austin proved to be a very secretly handsy man. He sneaked in several gropes of Tom's ass and that packed bulge. He was like a handsy ninja and it only titilated the bodybuilding librarian more and more. The two attracted several stares as they walked, each capable of holding the attention of the crowd, but together it was nearly impossible to look away from their masculine beauty. “Tom, you ass looks amazing in those shorts.” “Wait till you see it OUT of these shorts, little buddy.” At one point Austin surreptitiously reached up and pinched one of Tom's nipples. Tom jumped, let out an adorable yip and gave Austin an evil stare. Checking the surroundings, he grabbed the young man and pulled him into a narrow alley way. Before the young stud could react Tom reached under his armpits and LIFTED the hunk up to his face level. He pressed the man up against the brick wall. The slight fear in Austin's eyes quickly disappearing as he saw Tom's hot face coming toward his own. And just the like that two furiously made out. It was like fireworks exploding. Austin's hands ravaged Tom's traps, delts and arms as he moaned into Tom's mouth. Their tongues explored the depths of others' mouths. As Tom's hulking pecs pressed into Austin's rippling yet smaller ones, he released his grip on the young buck and took his turn to run his hands over the young prey. With just the weight of his rock hard mass pressing the young man against the wall he safely stayed in place, wedged tightly but comfortably against the brick wall. This only served to arrouse the young man even more, realizing the power that's Tom's muscles had. But, just to be safe, and partly to be closer to him, Austin wrapped his legs around the 6'4 muscle man. Tom's hands slid under the crossfitters polo and felt some of the deepest ab grooves Tom could imagine. This in turn caused Tom to moan as we has pleased that Austin, while quite a bit smaller, was proving his worth as a bona-fide ripped hunk. Austin's abs had to rival Ron's and perhaps were even better. Tom moaned out loud at the thought of what they looked like under that fabric. Austin sighed heavily and broke the kiss. “Geezus, Tom. You are so fuckin' hot. So fuckin' stong and big. We've got to get that hotel soon. I want to rip those tight clothes off of you and see those giant muscles and that huge cock in your shorts.” Tom placed his hands under Austin's firm bubble butt and stepped back from the wall, grinning like a Cheshire cat, easily supporting Austin's weight, causing the young man to shudder. “I agree Austin. Just think how easy it is for me to hold you like this, and you are no small man. I can't wait to show you these muscles. And I can't wait to see your own super-ripped phsique. I'm going to make you mine, my little friend. But rather than you tearing off my clothes, how about I just FLEX out of them for you?” While Tom spoke he puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders. The two heard the sounds of fabic beginning to stretch and tear. Tom instantly protested. “TOM! STOP! STOP!” “What, you don't like that, Austin?” “I fucking LOVE IT, Tom. But I want to see you do it private, where you can really bust out of that tiny shirt!” Austin once again lurched his forward and gave Tom a passionate kiss. After what seemed like several more minutes of intense making out Austin learned back. “Tom, I know you can hold me like this forever but I really want to get to that hotel room, haha.” Tom set the smaller man back on the ground. “I know Austin, I'm just trying to calm down enough to let my cock relax a bit. You might have to walk in front of me to hide my bulge.” “That's so hot to hear, big man. But who's gonna walk in front of me?” Tom looked down and licked his lips. Sure enough, the young man was tenting impressively, although not as impressively as himself. “Guess we'll have to find an even smaller third man for our party!” Tom joked. The two laughed and once they had calmed down, walked the last two blocks to the hotel.
  2. CardiMuscleman

    The Student and the Coach

    Part One "Yeah, come on, coach, you've got this in the bag!" James was not the only one cheering at the small, but powerfully built men on stage in the over 60's class of his local bodybuilding contest, but he was certainly the loudest, and with good reason. His coach, Larry, was almost certain to win his fifth regional title in as many years and as he finished off his routine with a most muscular that defied his size, he smiled, bowed to the audience and strode off back stage where his student picked him up and grunted "You may only be ten stone, but this is how much I want to congratulate you!" As he placed Larry on the ground a few seconds later, Larry just smiled and said "Remember, this time last year you couldn't even pick me up, but I thank you. It's nice to get some positive feedback from a student" and with that they went off to prepare Larry for the presentation. Larry and James really couldn't have been more different if they tried. Larry was 69 years old, had been training since his 14th birthday and although only standing 5ft 2 tall and weighing 138lbs, his 38½ inch chest, 33½ inch waist, 13 inch biceps, 21 inch quads and 14½ inch calves looked hewn from granite. James, on the other hand, was not only ten inches taller, but worlds apart. He weighed 220lbs, but with a 46 inch chest, 45 in waist, 13 inch biceps, 23 inch quads and 14½ inch calves, it was obvious that he had a long way to go to match his coach, but that did not dampen his enthusiasm for his coach and what he lacked in muscle, he more than made up for in cleverness. Indeed, it was his idea to create a social media account for his coach's bodybuilding exploits, accounts which were regularly shared by the stars of bodybuilding although James made quite sure that everyone realised that Larry's muscle development was following the "PHS method" of training which Larry explained as the "Porthos, Hercules and Samson" method of training until he couldn't do anymore and without any drugs whatsoever. That evening as the two drove home, James nursing the trophy like a baby, he looked at it and said "Larry, did you really mean what you said last year when I joined your gym. That in the space of three years I could win one of these myself!" Larry chuckled "Of course I did, I mean look at your progress. Your bench, squat and deadlift have increased exponentially from nothing to 104lbs, 94lbs and 84lbs respectively, you can pick me up for at least thirty seconds when you couldn't managed it before, and might I note that you've become more confident as well" and with that smiled at him. "Yes" smiled James, "my naked posing sessions after we train" and with that added, "I can't help myself, I say. After I train I feel, well, like, like the biggest and strongest man in the world, I want to rip off my posing suit and flex, flex, flex" "Tell you what then" smiled Larry, "special treat this evening. Before I tuck into my post contest ice cream, we'll pose down together, naked, and you can show me what poses I should do for my next guest posing session next weekend, Deal?" "Deal!" nodded James, frantically.
  3. arpeejay

    Something Else

    This one is a continuation of Something Different, which you can find here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/338-something-different Something Else: Jeff and Chris By Richard Jasper *** Part 1 Jeff was sitting at the end of the bar at JR's, still trying to wrap his mind around his encounter with Gina. It was the first time he'd ever been with a woman and, frankly, hot as it was, and it was very fucking hot, he had no interest in repeating the experience. But it had him thinking about what was going on with his sex life. The 29 y.o. corporate attorney was model handsome, hairy as a Colt model, and at 6 ft. and 360 lbs. of gargantuan, marble-carved muscle, he could have any man on the planet. So why am I, well, bored? he asked himself. Jeff was doing a bang-up job of tuning out the dozen or so guys milling around him. They were diverse in terms of age, ranging from early 20s to mid 50s, but otherwise they were pretty similar, ranging from 2-3 inches shorter than Jeff to 2-3 inches taller -- and all of 'em big, beefy, football player, bodybuilder, power-lifter types. None of 'em remotely as big as Jeff, of course, but there wasn't one under 220 lbs. and a couple were pushing 300. Jeff's kinda crowd, in other words. The kinda crowd that stood facing each other, hugging and patting and punching each other, with their backs to the guys with "average" builds and those who were more "bear" than "muscle." Jeff was staring at the guy sitting at the other end of the bar, chatting up the hunky (and, well, damn hot!) bartender down there, the one Jeff had had his eye on for quite sometime and one of the few who consistently turned Jeff down. "Yer a God," Randy had said, more than once. "I'm a mere mortal. And I already have a husband. So, thanks, but no thanks -- come see me in another lifetime!" Randy seemed very smitten with the guy and Jeff could see why. He was blond in a sexy, strawberry sort of way, peaches and cream skin, bright blue eyes. Very slender build, obviously, and short, kinda really short, in fact. But well-proportioned and wiry looking. Jeff got up from his seat, not bothering to notice that the crowd of chums and wannabe-chums parted for him as easily as the Red Sea had done for Moses. "Gotta take a piss," Jeff announced, knowing his entourage would be creaming themselves thinking about his horse cock but none of them had the nerve to follow him to the head. Too risky, they thought, afraid they might be cut out of the Pack. Along the way Jeff stopped to say "hey" to Randy, taking advantage of the three empty stools to left of the blond. He filled up the space, even so. "Jeezus," the blond exclaimed. "You really are a fucking mountain of a man, aren't you?" Jeff flashed the cutie a smile that had been known to melt glaciers and, not taking his eyes of the pocket hottie, asked Jeff: "So who's your handsome friend here, Randy?" "Chris Field," the blond replied, sticking his small hand in Jeff's massive paw. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Big!" Jeff laughed. "Name's Jeff, Chris, and pleased to meet you, too," he said, adding. "Not many men in this bar can monopolize Randy's attention the way you do." Chris had the decency to color slightly. "Not everyone tries as hard as I do," he conceded. Jeff patted Chris on the shoulder, saying: "Well, don't wear him out, OK?! And now I gotta go take that leak!" Jeff was still in front of the urinal when Chris showed up a few minutes later and parked himself in front of the adjacent urinal. That's bold, Jeff said to himself. Most of these guys don't have the nerve. "Damn," Chris said, not shy about staring. "Randy told me you were hung like a racehorse but, Christ, that thing is HUGE!" Jeff chuckled, a rumble that echoed off the bathroom tiles. "I piss like one, too, jeezus," he said. Musta been all that beer he'd had the night before at Brad and Keith's; either that or he had some kind of kidney disease going down! Jeff turned his head to look at Chris -- and realized he had to look way down to see him! "Wow," Jeff said. "You're a little thing, aren't you?" Chris frowned. "You mean 'short,' I think," he said with a slight air of asperity. "I'm a little bit on the beefy side for someone my height." Jeff eyed the nice piece hanging from Chris' crotch. "I stand corrected," Jeff said. "And you sure weren't short-changed down below, were you? What is that thing, 8-9 inches hard?" Chris beamed. "Pfft," he said, zipping up his pants. "It's 6 inches max. It just seems longer because I'm so short." Jeff shook out the last dribbles of his three-quart reservoir and tucked his monster meat back into his pants. "Just how tall are you?" he asked. "And, ya know, I'm really NOT about what size people are. I'm pretty much at one of the bell-shaped curve, too." Chris chuckled. "That's damn sure, Mr. Man Mountain," he agreed. "As for me, I stopped going UP when I turned 14. I was 5'2 then and I'm 5'2 now." Jeff looked at the top of Chris' head. Nice view! "Looks good from here," Jeff said. "I'm not tall but I'm 10 inches taller than you are. I don't get to feel like Shaquille O'Neal that often!" Chris was washing his hands in the basin with the big mirror over it. Jeff stood behind him, brushing his hair with his big, long, sausage sized fingers. "What you are is fuckin' huge," Chris said. "Standing in front of you is landing standing in front of an eclipse -- you blot out everything behind you!" Jeff looked down at the handsome man. "Would you like to see more sometime?" he asked. Weird, Jeff thought, why is my heart racing? Then it occurred to him. I'm asking him out! I don't ask people out! They ask me out! "I'd like that a lot, Big Guy," Chris replied. "You wanna go on a date or...?" Jeff laughed. "I'd love to go on a date, Mr. Sexy," Jeff said. "But first I want to get some place I can get you out of your clothes." Chris looked please. "Your place or mine, Mr. Big?" *** Part 2 They went to Chris' place. Jeff tried to avoid bringing guys back to Brad and Keith's place unless he already knew the guy or had at least a little bit of a clue. After all, Chris seemed like a really nice guy but for all Jeff knew he was an axe-murderer (albeit a very small one.) Didn't remotely cross Jeff's mind to worry about going to Chris' place -- he never worried about something like that. Who hell was gonna give him any grief? Chris' town house north of the bar district was pretty spectacular. Three stories, three thousand square feet, totally modern yet warm and inviting, every piece of classy, high-priced furniture perfectly placed. "Jeez, Chris, this is one helluva pad! What did you say you do for a living?" Chris flashed a big grin. "I didn't, Mr. Corporate Attorney," he replied, causing Jeff's eyes to widen. "And, yes, our bartender pal told me all about you." Jeff, sitting on the Italian leather sofa, took the Waterford tumbler full of brandy from Chris and stretched his mammoth arm along the back. Twisting his girder-thick wrist caused tsunamis of muscle to ripple up and down his arm. "So...?" Jeff inquired. "Don't laugh," Chris replied. "I'm a gynecologist." Jeff smiled broadly but squelched the chuckle. "A well-paid one, I see," he pointed out. Chris shrugged his slight shoulders. "What can I say? Lots of women like a doctor they can look down on! And little hands fit into delicate places, you know?" Jeff did laugh then. "I hafta say I don't know much about little," he pointed out. Chris stood in front of the big man. Even though Jeff was seated, he was still looking Chris pretty much in the eyes. Slowly, as if he were some porno star, Chris pulled off his expensive polo shirt. "Damn, boy," Jeff said, looking Chris up and down. "You really are one hot fuck, aren't you?" For such a small man, Chris had an intense degree of muscularity. His pecs, delts, traps, biceps, forearms, abs, were all full, perfectly formed, and ripped to shreds. He was also excellently proportioned and smooth as silk. Chris squared his shoulders, puffed up his chest, and gave Jeff a quick double bi shot. "Ya think so?" Chris asked. "Like I was saying, I'm kinda beefy for 5'2, don't you think?" Jeff nodded. "You get just a little bit bigger and you'll have the short class guys trembling in their posers," Jeff said. "How much do you weigh?" Chris shook his head. "Not yet," Chris said. "I'm the one who needs to be asking the questions." Wow, Jeff thought. He's one take charge little fuck, isn't he? "Such as?" Jeff asked. "Such as: How much do you bench, Big Man?" Jeff smiled. "A lot of people think the muscles are just for show," he observed. "But the truth is I hold the record." Chris just looked at him; Jeff realized he wasn't going to wiggle out from under Chris' questioning. "At my last meet, 1320 lbs.," Jeff said, shyly. Chris smiled. "That's exactly 11 times as much as I weigh," he observed. Jeff did the arithmetic in his head and his dick jumped. "You only weigh 120 lbs?! Damn, Chris, you look a lot bigger than that to me!" Chris laughed. "That's because you can't comprehend a guy's real size unless he's twice what I weigh," he pointed out. "I know who you hang out with." Jeff blushed. "Randy told me you can pick him up with one hand," Chris continued. "Is that the case?" Jeff nodded. Truth was, he'd one-handed plenty of guys bigger than Randy but... "That's exactly twice what I weigh," Chris observed. "I'm 120, Randy is 240." ZING! Jeff's semi-turgid cock achieved rock hardness. "Show me," Chris said. "Show me your bod, Big Man." Jeff slowly stood up; the top of Chris' head disappeared under Jeff's pec shelf while Chris unbuckled Jeff's built. Jeff pulled out the tails of his shirt, slowly unbuttoning the custom-tailored silk button-up, revealing his massive fur-covered torso. "That's fucking hot," Chris admired. With that he pulled Jeff's pants slowly down his legs, revealing more and more the humongous, fur-covered tree trunks. The head of Jeff's enormous tool stuck way out the top of his tighty-whities. "Mmmm," Chris breathed. "You're a whole lotta man!" Jeff reached his hand down and Chris stepped on it as if it were some organic elevator. With no visible exertion, Jeff lifted Chris in front of him so that the two men, one small, the other so large, were looking directly into each other's eyes. "I think we should take this discussion some place more comfortable," Chris said. "Don't you agree?" Jeff looked at the petite, perfectly proportioned man whose small feet perfectly filled the palm of massive, muscular hand. "Tell me where you want me, boss," Jeff replied. Boss? he thought. Where did that come from? "Up those stairs," Chris replied. "We need room to spread out." * * * Chris' bedroom occupied the entire top floor of the town house, centered on a custom steel-framed California king bed that looked like it would have no trouble supporting a hippopotamus! Jeff eyed the bed, eyed Chris, eyed the bed. "Isn't that a bit excessive?" Chris had the decency to blush. "What can I say?" he asked. "I like big guys!" Jeff leaned back on the silk bolster at the head of the bed. "Fuck," Chris said, "You look like you fill up the whole thing." Jeff looked from side to side. "Not quite," he said. "But my shoulders are 40 inches across." Chris shook his head. "Ya know, Jeff, I've been with some really big guys in my time but never one as big as you." Jeff smiled. "You're not likely to find one as big as I am, ya know." Chris straddled Jeff's hips. Compared to his vast shoulders, Jeff's hips were slender indeed but they had to be thick enough to hold up his 39-inch quads. Chris had to stretch to get his short legs on either side of Jeff's sequoia-thick legs. "You could house a family of four in your pec cleavage, couldn't?" Jeff smirked and rolled his monstrous pecs up and down. "Jesus," Chris said. Jeff put his hands on either side of Chris' tiny waist. "You are so fucking proportional," he mused. "And so fucking tiny." Chris laughed. "Don't I wish! It's all the way up to 26 inches -- I must be getting old." With that, Jeff slowly lifted his mountainous arms and gave them a full flex. "29 inches, Boss Man," Jeff said. "Bigger than your waist." Chris took Jeff's right wrist -- he could barely get his hands around it -- and placed Jeff's hand against the headboard. "Shall I get out the cuffs?" he asked, playfully. Jeff grunted. Damn, he thought. I thought I was already hard! "Do you think they would fit?" he asked. Chris sighed. "No, come to think of it, I don't think they will," he pointed out. "I'll just have to think of other ways to keep you in place." Jeff chuckled. "You and what army?" he asked. Chris leaned down and licked Jeff's left nipple. The shock was electric. Gina! The image came unbidden to Jeff's mind. My God, he Jeff thought. He's the male version of Gina. "How many men have you fucked with that thing?" Chris asked. Jeff gawped. "Now, that's a personal question, isn't it?!" Chris smiled. "And you want to answer it, don't you?" Jeff blushed furiously. "Plus you know exactly how many, too, right?" Jeff blew out his cheeks. "It's fucking hot in here," he pointed out. Chris looked over his shoulder. "Actually, it's 70 degrees exactly," he noted. "I always cool it down when there's the possibility of a hot fuck in my bed." Jeff squirmed. Well, to the extent that a 360 lb. mountain of fur-covered muscle can be said to squirm. Chris held his gaze, willing Jeff to answer the question. "A lot fewer than you might think," Jeff said. "It only works with about one guy in 20. And they're usually trolls or fisters or both." Chris tilted his head to his side. "Not all fisters are trolls, y'know," he said agreeably. Uh oh, Jeff thought. "And how many women? I would think for the most part they're even less able to accommodate you. The average woman's vagina is only 5 1/2 inches deep -- you've got more than twice that." Jeff colored. "Uh, well..." Chris raised his eyebrows. "Unless you've never played with women?" he mused. "I'd've thought a big strapping football hero like you would have been tripped left and right. Women on the prowl can be fierce!" Jeff smiled, thinking about all his near misses. Then he thought of Gina and smiled more. "Ah," Chris said. "Not totally a straight virgin, I see. You did it when, in high school?" Jeff laughed at that. "Actually, to tell you the God's honest truth, it was just last night." Chris's mouth fell open. "And she was a totally hot fuck," Jeff added. "I don't know how she got it all in but she did and it was waaaay better than what you get from trolls and fisters." Chris pounded the big man on his massive, granite-hard pec. "Oh, c'mon," he said. "You're not telling me you've never satisfactorily fucked a hot guy?" Jeff grinned. "Well, no, I didn't say that. Quite a few in fact. It's just relatively speaking..." Chris laughed. "S'okay, I don't wanna know how many you've been with. I don't think I can count that high." Jeff looked like he was about to ask a question of his own when Chris continued. "And the other way? How many times have you been on the receiving end?" Jeff rolled his eyes. "Nobody ever wants to fuck me," he pointed out. "I'm too big. They want it from me, even though 9 times out of 10 they can't take it." Chris put his forefinger to his lip. "Never?" Jeff sighed. "Never." Chris bent down and put his head inside the cavernous space formed by the intersection of Jeff's pec, lat, and deltoid complex. "Hello in here, here, here," he said, emulating an echo, then added. "You could fucking crush me like an egg, couldn't you, Big Boy?" Much to his chagrin, Jeff's cock throbbed, a lot, something Chris couldn't help noticing considering where he was sitting and the size of Jeff's monster tool. "Yep," Chris. "So much strength, so much power." Jeff felt beads of sweat break out on his clear, broad brow. "But you want me to fuck you, don't you?" Jeff panted. "Damn, Chris, are you sure that thermostat isn't set to 90?" Chris planted his small mouth on Jeff's and spent the next few minutes extracting Jeff's tonsils. "We could be in a refrigerator," Chris said. "You'd still be fucking hot." He looked at Jeff again. "Now answer the question." Jeff felt something unclinch inside of him, a clinch he had never known he had. He cupped Chris' handsome face in his grizzly bear hands, looked deep into those liquid blue eyes, and, at last, answered the question: "Yes, Chris," he said. "Yes, I do." *** Conclusion "Just lay back there, Big Boy," Chris told Jeff. "The trick is to get comfortable and relax." Then Chris proceeded to crawl over every inch of Jeff's body, starting with Jeff's handsome face and working his way down: * All around Jeff's beer keg thick neck; "Just relax." * Out along both of his gargantuan shoulders, each as wide as Chris' whole body; "Let me do all the work." * Back into Jeff's cavernous armpits; "I know you're used to being in control." * Up, down, across, and deep within the cleavage of Jeff's monstrous pecs; "You're so fucking huge, so fucking strong." * Around all 8 of Jeff's furry-covered abs, each one the density and thickness of a cinder block; "Why should you do any work?" * Tracing the contours of Jeff's mammoth lats, marveling at the thickness and definition of his serratus and obliques; "Let me give this to you." * Along and down and across Jeff's rigid manhood, which was longer than one of Chris' forearms, thicker than one of his clinched fists; "It's OK to be the passive one." * And down the quads, the calves, awed that even Jeff's feet (size 14EEEE) were as huge and as muscular as the rest of his body. "It's OK to let the little man take the lead." Finally Chris brought himself up to Jeff's ponderous sac, each ball the size of an orange, the thick curly black hair doing nothing to obscure the size and heft of Jeff's patrimony. Chris licked, sucked, nibbled, tickled, groped, cupped, slapped Jeff's equipment; Jeff moaned and writhed, his giant forearms (significantly bigger than Chris' legs) rippling with muscle. "Mmmm," Chris said from down below. "I see you like having your balls played with." Jeff's giant fist slammed the bed. "Uh," he gasped. "No <gasp> not usually. But, shit, your mouth -- my God -- is so fucking hot!" Chris smiled inwardly. He rubbed his blond locks against the underside of Jeff's package, gently squashing the contents against Jeff's pubic bone. "Put your knees up," Chris ordered. Jeff complied without thinking, despite the fact he was not able to see Chris; at this angle, Jeff's giant pecs obscured the view. He could feel Chris but he couldn't see him. Chris was amazed by Jeff's ass, although perhaps he should not have been. The big man weighed 360 lbs. and held the world's record for the bench press (1320 lbs.) What he didn't know was that Jeff also held the world's record for the squat (1620 lbs., 4.5 times his body weight.) If there had been an Encyclopedia of Hot Gay Men, a picture of Jeff's ass would have appeared next to the entry for "Bubble Butt." It was magnificent. And, as he expected, there was no way Chris' entirely functional, capable six-inch dick was going to get past 10 inches of butt cheeks. Chris covered his hands in the self-warming lubricant he kept for special occasions, and slowly, cautiously, lingeringly, began moving his hand between the twin globes of glorious butt flesh towards Jeff's anus. Jeff's squirming intensified; it occurred to Chris that he might need to strap himself to Jeff's leg to avoid being bucked off. When the tips of Chris' fingers met Jeff's quivering, puckered mangina, Jeff shook so violently the entire bed, consisting of a 500 lb. steel frame, California King box springs and mattress, and 500 lbs. of man flesh, jumped two inches to the left. Chris inserted first one finger, then two, and so forth. With each addition, Jeff's moans became a bit louder, his heartbeat became that much more elevated. Finally, Chris removed all his fingers, balled them together into a single fist, and moved it into Jeff's rectum. "Fuck," Jeff called. "Oh fucking Christ, that feels good." Chris grinned. You ain't felt nothing yet, Big Boy, he said to himself. And YES, there it was, the lumpy walnut of Jeff's prostrate. Just barely inside! Chris exulted. Any further down and the damn thing would be halfway poking out his ass. He massaged it. Jeff's breathing went into hyperdrive, his entire body clinched. Surrounded by a hundred or more pounds of leg muscle on either side of him, Chris began to wonder if had made a mistake. If he squeezes them together, he mused, I'll be a fucking stain on the bedspread. But Jeff didn't squeeze them together, although his fingers and toes were tearing deep gouges into Chris' $2000 gold-thread bedspread. Every time Jeff got close, Chris backed off a bit. Every time Jeff relaxed, Chris started up again. "Please," Jeff said, after an hour or so of this. "Please, please, please." "Please what?" Chris demanded. "Please let me cum," Jeff said. "I gotta cum." Chris cleared his throat. In his light tenor, he announced. "You'll have to ask for it, boy, and even then I'll decide." Jeff's voice was ragged. "Please, sir, please. I'll do anything. Just let me cum." Gotcha, Chris thought. "I think you're ready, boy," Chris said. "When I say the word, you may cum." Delirious though he'd become, Jeff had enough presence of mind to ask. "Sir, please, WHICH word?" Chris chuckled in a nasty way. "Oh, you'll know, boy, you'll know." And with that he mashed his little fist into Jeff's hunnynut, a blow that would have caused any (other) man to erupt. Again. And again. And again. Finally. "NOW!" Chris ordered. Jeff shot, or more precisely, he exploded. Gina, his mind bellowed. The bed shook, the cum went everywhere, Chris once again feared for his life. Eventually, after 10 or 12 tremendous volleys, the eruption subsided and slowly, raggedly, Jeff's body began to unclinch, his breathing becoming slower and more regular. He felt Chris crawling up his body, this time in a way that was, well, kinda weird feeling. Chris came to rest on Jeff's mammoth pecs. He crossed his legs and sat there like Aladdin on a magic, fur-covered carpet. The expression on Chris' face was one of intent curiosity, as if he were entomologist examining a particularly large bug. "I own you now," Chris said reasonably. Jeff's expression was calm and neutral. He accepted Chris' statement without question. "More precisely, WE own you now," came a soft feminine voice, one joltingly familiar and yet completely unexpected, dangerously out of place. Jeff looked to his right. Gina! "Good job, brother," Gina told Chris. "The question is..." Chris nodded. "The question is: Do we want to keep him?" Jeff's mind raced at a thousand miles a minute. How could these two tiny creatures -- brother and sister?! -- possibly think they could control a man who could literally pull down this elegant townhouse with his bare hands? And yet. Jeff examined his thoughts and feelings. My God, he realized. It's true! He opened his mouth and found he couldn't speak. "No," Chris said. "Now that I think about it. I don't think so." Gina raised an eyebrow, questioning her brother. She climbed aboard Jeff's mammoth chest, assuming the same posture as Chris. Together they weighed 200 lbs. but they felt like feathers. The real weight was on Jeff's mind, not his chest. "Too big," Chris continued. "Think of the food bill!" Gina buried her fingers deep in the luxuriant curls of Jeff's chest hair. "There's that," she said. "And we're really NOT what he needs." Chris nodded in agreement. "What you need, Big Man," he said. Jeff was afraid to hear what Chris -- or Gina! -- might say. "A skinny guy who can look you in the eye," Gina said. "And with a dick at least 10 inches long," Chris added. The brother and sister looked at each other. "You need fucking on a regular basis," they said as one. "We're not the ones to do that. Trying to do so, and failing, would displease us." They slipped from Jeff's chest and stood on either side of the bed. "You may go." Jeff practically levitated down the stairs, grabbing the clothes Chris and Gina threw his way, somehow dressing before he got to the front door, and then running, literally running the 10 blocks back to Brad and Keith's places. Hands shaking he tossed his bags into the back of his roomy Lexus SUV and didn't stop until he got back to Dallas. He sent e-mail to Brad and Keith when he got home. His message read: Next time you guys need to come see me! I've got plenty of room and it's your turn and let's face it... Houston is too damned hot! THE END
  4. I have probably gone down this road before but lately I have been keenly aware that there a couple of dozen classic stories that I visit over and over and over again when it's time to, well, you know! I thought I would share MINE in hopes of encouraging my fellow muscle devotees to share THEIRS! This list is in alphabetical order by story title (not favorites or most visited.) Ditto, this is not to say that these are my only go-to stories. I have MANY favorite stories / authors; these are just the ones I visit most frequently (so if you're name isn't on the list, please don't feel aggrieved -- it just means you're that much more special!) The stories (authors) are: A Perfect Revenge (FanTCMan) Adam Ponyboy (QuoteTheRaven) And Scott Grew Huge (QuoteTheRaven) Barista Muscle (BBMSN) Becoming Travis (QuoteTheRaven) Boy God (LuvsMusl) Can I be a Freak? (Falseyedee) Carniceria (Josef Howard) How I Got Huge (LuvsMusl) I am a Freak (Falseyedee) Me and the Old Man (BBMSN) Muscle Service Station (Josef Howard) My New Buddy's Arms (BBMSN) My New Pal (BBMSN) Neighbor Kid (LuvsMusl) Of Scott -- Of Growing Huge (QuoteTheRaven) One Hundred and One (Josef Howard) Pastor Muscle (BBMSN) Simon's Affirmation (LuvsMusl) Surprise Visit (Josef Howard) Wrestling Camp (BBMSN) The Bet (Jaypat) The Change (Msclbldr) The Dealer (Josef Howard) The Jock Bully (Jaypat) The Pack (MscleNBots) The Prisoner (John D.) The Vortex (Msclbldr) Walkabout (Msclbldr) If you're a connoisseur of great muscle growth stories and you haven't read these, get cracking! They're all too delicious! Read and enjoy! Richard
  5. arpeejay

    The Merger

    This is a one shot, single-chapter standalone. There will be no follow up. And not quite my usual fare. Hope you enjoy! -- RPJ By Richard Jasper They met at the Eagle. Derik “Rik” Farnsworth was in his usual attire: Tight white v-neck shirt that showed off his broad shoulders, bespoke leather vest that didn’t do much to hide his middle-aged belly, and tight black jeans that showed both a nice basket (but left ‘em guessing as to what was really there) and a nice hard butt. At 5’10 and 225 lbs., Rik, 52, was a beefy daddy / wannabe muscle bear. Big shoulders, big pecs, beefy arms and legs, killer calves and a 38-inch waist that never wanted to go away no matter how much cardio he did. He had slightly wavy sandy brownish blond hair, a full goatee, and short, curly strawberry blond hair all over his body. Ryan Steinmetz, 25, was wearing a vintage Mickey Mouse polo shirt, coral-colored Calvin Klein draw-string shots, and classic black Converse PF Flyers. Also, 5’10, Ryan had what Rik had had when he was that age: broad shoulders, nice arms, good pecs, decent legs. Unlike Rik, he had a 31-inch waist with a nice six-pack going. Plus vaguely floppy dark brown hair, green eyes, nice, thick eyebrows, pouty red lips, and a short, well-kept beard with reddish highlights. And except for his pits and legs, smooth as silk. They gave each other the eye and then promptly looked the other way, Rik figuring he was too old for the young stud, the young stud figuring the (from his point of view) “fucking hot DILF” was out of his league. And then there was Pete. It was Pete in fact who introduced them. At 45, he was a scaled down, slightly chubbier version of Rik. For the past month Ryan had been his live-in lover and years before Pete had been Rik’s summer-long fling. Oh, no, Rik thought as he was shaking Ryan’s hand. The poor kid. You’d think in a metro area with 2 million people every gay man wouldn’t know every other gay man’s business but not so. Rik had seen it too many times. Pete found one young stud after another, moved in on them by playing up his house and his travel schedule and procession of brand new Porsches (he was a car salesman, big whoop), and as soon as they took the bait he started in on them, systematically destroying their self-confidence in his belittling, gaslighting, self-important way. Rik hated to think what Pete must have gone through as a child to turn into such a complete and utter douche but whatever it was didn’t excuse his petty cruelty. Rik gave Ryan a firm handshake and a crooked smile and, when Pete wasn’t looking, slipped his social media card into Ryan’s back pocket. “In case you ever want to, you know, just hang,” he said. “I’m well-aware that I’m old enough to be your daddy. But Pete, well, he can be pretty intense sometimes, y’know? Let me know if you need a breather.” Ryan gave Rik a puzzled look, then nodded. +++ The next day Rik was at Fitness World working shoulders when he looked up and there he was. “Hey, hey, hey,” Rik said, re-racking the 40 lb. dumbbells. “Look who’s here! It’s Ryan, right?” Ryan actually blushed when Rik called his name. Aww, Rik though, ain’t that just fucking adorable? That asshole Pete sure knows how to pick ‘em! “It’s Rik, right?” Ryan asked. “I had no idea you trained here.” Rik nodded. “About a year now,” he said. “I really hate training by myself and they have great trainers here. I was at Flex Complex before but my trainer, Dan Hardy, ran off to Cincinnati to get married and I was stuck.” Dan was the 2017 Mr. Hoosier and Ryan instantly recognized his name. “Oh, wow,” he said. “You got to work with Dan? How cool is that?” They spent the next 15 minutes talking about bodybuilding and related sports. Turns out Ryan had aspirations to compete in Men’s Physique. Rik had ZERO competitive aspirations but he had been following bodybuilding since he was a sprout and his knowledge was approaching encyclopedic! They wound up training together that day, much to their mutual surprise, and found out that despite the difference in their ages they weren’t all that far apart in strength. “I’m twice your age,” Rik observed, sighing. “But you outweigh me by 50 lbs.,” Ryan countered. “I’m an old man,” Rik protested. “That’s call ‘muscle maturity,’ dumbass,” Ryan pointed out. They made a training date for the next day. And the day after that. And… On chest day, Rik had a confession to make. “I have a lousy bench,” he said. “I’ve been lifting longer than you’ve been alive and the most I’ve ever put up for one rep was 275.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “C’mon, dude, give yourself a break,” he said, adding. “That’s the most I’ve ever put up, too! And I don’t have 18-inch calves or a 455 lb. squat.” Rik considered it. “Fair enough,” he said. “You know what this means, right?” Ryan looked at him. “That we need to work on hitting 315?” Rik bumped his fist. “Damn straight!” And a month later they did. Things went on like that for six months. They both gained 10 lbs., all in the right places but Ryan’s calves still lagged and Rik’s waist was still stuck at 38 inches, no change. “On the other hand, Mr. 52-inch-chest,” Ryan said to Rik. “Your delts are so huge they’re going to have to widen the doors. And I don’t want to hear any more whining about your ‘little’ arms. Little 18 ½-inch arms!” Rik snorted. “Uh, look who’s talking, Mr. 18-inch-arms and you’re only 185 fucking pounds,” he replied. “With a 29-inch waist and a fucking eight-pack already.” They stood side by side, the middle-aged bear who was more muscular every day and the 25 y.o. stud whose hotness was setting off fire alarms. “You know what we would be great?” Ryan said. “What’s that?” Rik responded. “If we could, you know, MERGE our bodies,” Ryan continued. Rik guffawed. “You mean my mass and your leanness?” Ryan punched his lifting buddy’s full, thick, rock-hard delts. “Your shoulders and my abs,” he said. “My calves and your veinage,” Rik countered. They smiled at each other. “Knowing me,” Rik continued, in his po-faced way. “We’d end up with my gut and your calves.” Ryan just rolled his eyes. “Finish up with single-armed cable curls?” Rik’s eyes gleamed. “You betcha!” +++ Ryan didn’t show up the next day. Or the day after that. No texts, no e-mail, no phone calls. Rik fought down his urge to panic (or to get pissed) off and sent one last text: I know I’m not your dad or anything but you’re my friend and I do worry. Please let me know that you’re OK. A minute later: Sorry. Dealing with some shit. I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow morning. When he saw Ryan the next morning, he gave him an arched “what the fuck is going on?” eyebrow. “Not right here,” Ryan responded, nodding towards the corner of the gym. Rik dutifully followed him over and started loading the t-bar row. “Pete dumped me,” Ryan said, without further ado. “Kicked me out in fact. Said, well, I don’t want to get into what he said. It was all shit. I spent Wednesday and Thursday finding an apartment and getting my stuff moved.” Rik sighed. “Oh, man, I was afraid it was something like that,” he said. “Except that we’re out here in the middle of the gym, I would give you a big hug.” Ryan nodded. “If we were not here in the middle of the gym, I would let you,” he replied. “But if I did I would start crying.” Rik felt like crying, too. Ryan was just about the nicest guy he’d ever met. He didn’t deserve to have Pete crap all over his life. Pete is such a fucking asshole, he thought. “Pete is such a fucking asshole,” Ryan said. “I hate to say it but it’s true.” Rik patted his young friend on the shoulder. “I would have told you that six months ago, but you needed to figure it out for yourself.” Ryan shook his head. “I figured it out a while ago, actually,” he continued. “I just hadn’t decided what to do about it. Actually, I’m really lucky that he ended it when he did.” This kid is so fucking smart, Rik thought, but it wasn’t what he said. “This evening, if you’re free, cocktails and dinner on me.” Ryan’s eyes lit up. “To celebrate, you mean?” Rik laughed. “Yes, to celebrate,” he said. “It’s a little too early for you to start going on dates!” Ryan looked down and murmured something – something Rik didn’t catch – under his breath. Rik picked Ryan up at his new place and took him to Ferguson’s, the local steak house with its own quite comprehensive wine cellar. And then had a couple of glasses of wine too many and on the spot hired one of the valet parkers to drive them and Rik’s car back to Ryan’s place and called Uber to send the parker back to Ferguson’s. “Come on up,” Ryan said. “I’ll show you the place.” The place was largish studio with a bedroom alcove. A bunch of boxes on the kitchen counter, a new futon sofa, and a queen-sized bed in the bedroom alcove were all he had, along with various lamps sitting on the floor. “I think it’s time you gave me that hug,” Ryan said, leaning against the kitchen counter. Rik gathered the younger man up in his arms and gave him a good bear hug. “No, a real hug,” Ryan said, when Rik tried to let go. He nuzzled his handsome head against Rik’s neck. Holy moly, Rik thought. “Bud, are you sure this is a good idea?” he squeaked. Ryan nipped his earlobe. “I’m pretty sure it’s a bad idea,” he replied. “But it’s what I’ve wanted since I laid eyes on you and judging by this I would saying the feeling is mutual.” It was mutual. Rik decided he didn’t have to be the grown up all the time. +++ They spent a lot of time exploring, as bedmates who are friends before they get into bed often do. Soon after they’d started training together they’d noticed that not only were they the same height, they wore the same shoe size and their hands were more or less the same size and shape. Turns out, perhaps unsurprisingly, their dicks were, too. Ryan’s was maybe half an inch longer, Rik’s was possibly an inch bigger around. They weren’t shy about sharing their muscle fetish. Rik straddled Ryan’s hips, squared his big broad shoulders, threw out his big thick chest, and flared his ridiculous lats before sweeping in to nuzzle Ryan’s neck, lick out his pits, and chew on his pierced nips. Ryan bounced his pecs, scrunched his rock-hard eight-pack abs down into a vacuum, pose, and licked his 18-inch biceps. “You are such a hot fucking stud,” Rik breathed. “Look who’s talking, Big Daddy,” Ryan replied. They came all over each other simultaneously, having never gotten around to fucking. And then they fell fast asleep. +++ Roger lazily opened his eyes, hopped out of bed, and padded to the bathroom, his extra-wide, ridiculously muscular size 16 feet thumping the ceramic tile. His ridiculous dong, 10 inches soft, let loose a noisy waterfall of piss that seemed to go on for five minutes. Must have had too much wine last night, he thought. Then he looked at himself in the mirror. “Mighty fine, Big Man, mighty fine,” he said. The six-foot mountain of muscle enjoyed looking at the dark brown, nearly black, fur covering his monstrous pecs and the way those pecs bounced every time he moved. Why couldn’t that asshole Pete appreciate me for who I am? He scratched the sexy reddish brown morning stubble that would be a five o’clock shadow by 4 p.m. and looked himself in the eye: they were a blue so dark they might have been sapphires. Oh, well, Ferguson’s was good. Hope that cute parker made it home OK! And then he stood stock still in front of the mirror. “I’m Roger Grosbeck,” he said to his reflection. I’m Rik Farnsworth. “I’m 6 feet tall.” I’m Ryan Steinmetz. I’m 5’10. “I weigh 420 lbs. of solid muscle. I’m the biggest, builtest motherfucker anyone’s ever seen.” I weigh 235 lbs. and I don’t have abs. I weigh 185 lbs. and I don’t have calves worth shit. “I have a 13-inch dick.” Six inches. Seven inches. “I’m 37 years old.” 52. 25. “Furry as fuck.” Smooth as silk. “Five % body fat.” We have abs! “So what the hell is going on?” And then he remembered. Growing up in Northwest Florida. Growing up in Northwest Indiana. Having two younger brothers. No, having an older sister. Having an asshole, alcoholic father. Having a laidback, loving rocker dad into Jerry Garcia and the sacred herb. “I….” I’m not complaining, Rik thought. Nor am I, Ryan offered. “…am something more.” Than I was. Than we were. “Are we OK with this?” Roger asked himselves. We are. I am you. You are me. We are one. “In that case, now what?” Simple. Easy. “We fucking rule the world.” THE END
  6. arpeejay

    The Haircut

    As usual, enter at your own risk. If you’ve read one of my stories, you’ve read them all, including this new one. – RPJ The Haircut Part 1 By Richard Jasper “I need something new,” the kid said. Well, I couldn’t disagree with him. Cute enough, sure, in that gay geek sort of way, mid-20s, about 6 ft., maybe a buck sixty soaking wet, dark blue eyes with long, thick lashes. A great face, in fact. But the hair was right out of the Bill Gates playbook, circa 1989, as were the glasses. “Lots of options,” I pointed out. “But what did you mind?” He tilted his head to the right, tilted it to the left. “Something up-to-date,” he said. “But it can’t be too out there. Work, ya know?” Oh, yeah, I thought, I know all about work. “Leave it to me,” I replied. And I worked my magic, on his head and on him. The nice thing about being a hair stylist is that my fingers and my mouth are capable of independent action. So the scissors and the clippers did what my hands told them to do while my mouth chatted him up. Mid-20s, as I expected, a recently completed Ph.D., it turned out, working in cybernetic security. “Important stuff,” I said. He nodded. “Fascinating stuff, important stuff, fun stuff,” he agreed. “And all the social opportunities of a geriatric maiden aunt.” I blinked. Most young men in Blake Henry’s shoes are only interested in getting laid, something they’re pretty much genetically programmed never to achieve. “And almost all of them are straight,” he complained. “Whoever told me that tech was full of gay guys was full of it.” I arched an eyebrow. “Really?” He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Well, no, not really, but I swear where I work they’re even geekier than the straights.” I tsked. “That hardly seems likely,” I suggested. He started to nod but I held his head in place. “Sorry,” he said. “But I’m deadly serious. They’re deadly dull. And going out…” I chuckled. “I’ll make you a money-back guarantee,” I said. “If this new hair cut doesn’t get you a phone number the next time you go out, the next one’s on me!” His eyes widened. “Really?” I nodded. “Dennis Allman’s the name, possibilities are the game,” I said in a TV game show announcer’s voice. “This IS a full service salon after all.” I handed him his glasses – YEESH! The glasses! – and let him take a look. “Whoah!” he said. “I sorta, almost, I mean…” He stuttered to a halt. “You look like a handsome young man,” I said. “If I didn’t have 25 years on, I’d ask you out!” He laughed, but in a pleased sort of way. “One thing, though,” I said. “You REALLY need to think about getting some new glasses. These don’t go with your face at all. They look like goggles. Go to a frames place and get some cute girl to help you pick out a new pair!” I stood – we were just the same height, 6 ft., as I thought – and he shook my hand. “Thanks for the great cut, Dennis!” he said. “I’ll see you in a month.” +++ A month later Blake was back and… “Wow, have you been working out?!” I asked. He chuckled. For his first visit Blake had worn a long-sleeve, white Oxford cloth shirt with a button-down collar that hung loose on his 160-lb. frame. This time he had on a solid black Polo that hugged him a like a second skin. There were pecs and delts and traps and abs and nice beefy arms. “I joined Meatheads,” he said, referring to one of Worthington’s hard core gyms. “And hired a personal trainer. Joe’s been working me hard!” I whistled. “I’ll say he has! Looks like you’ve put on 20 lbs.! He grinned that pearly white grin of his. “Twenty-seven to be precise,” he said, squeezing his forearms so a river delta of veins popped out. “187 this morning, right out of bed.” I just blinked, then pulled myself together. “So we’re doing the same thing as last time?” He nodded, then said. “You know, *I* thought the first thing you were going to notice were the new specs!” I did a double-take. I’d been so busy checking out all that new muscle I hadn’t even looked at the kid’s face! I’m afraid I actually blushed! “Oh, yeah, wow!” I said. “Much better fit for the shape of your face! Definitely NOT goggles!” In fact, they were sort of modified horn-rim, roundish lenses in full but lightweight frames, the tortoiseshell highlighted with a nice blue that brought out his eyes. “Good choice!” I said and got down to work. From time to time I’d glance at the mirror and that’s when I noticed that the chestnut highlights in his hair were repeated in the curls at the base of his neck. “You know,” I said. “I think you would look really good with a beard. I bet it has the same red highlights that are up here, doesn’t it?” He contemplated. “Good observation,” he said. “About the highlights, that is. It’s mostly brown everywhere I grow hair but the red’s definitely there. Those Scots-Irish roots, you know.” I nodded. He wasn’t the only one with Celtic forebears. “Now that your hair is shorter the bone structure of your face is much more obvious,” I said. “You have high cheekbones, a straight nose, a good strong jaw, and a firm chin. All of which stand on their own but beards are really in right now.” He chuckled. “And pretty fucking hot, too,” he said, cocking his finger at me. Well, yes. At 50, I had a headful of silver hair, a very nice silver beard, and silver curls on my chest, torso, arms, legs, etc. That and 235 lbs. of off-season beef, the product of having lifted recreationally for longer than young Mr. Henry had been alive, definitely put me in the top ranks of Daddy / Muscle Bears, enough so that I had posed for nude pix on more than many occasions over the preceding 15 years. I had ZERO interest in doing porn but taking my clothes off? No problemo! Made for a nice little supplementary income! “So we agree that we know whereof I speak?” He nodded. “Clearly, yes,” he said. “I’m just not sure I can grow a decent one. I tried when I was a freshman in college and it was a disaster. Very spotty.” I pointed at the chest curls. “Did you have those at the time?” He shook his head. “That didn’t come show up until later,” he pointed out. I nodded. What I’d thought. “Late bloomer,” I said. “I bet you could raise a decent thatch now!” When I finished with him, he stood up and gave me a hug, which surprised both of us, I think! That he’d done so, for one thing, and that it felt like I was hugging a sack full of bricks, for another. He was hard as fucking rock! “And you don’t owe a haircut,” he said, reminding me of my wager. “I got a number last night!” I slapped him on the ass. “Way to go stud!” He laughed and walked – no, take that back – he strutted out the door, his newly broad shoulders square and his chest full and proud. “See you next month, Daddy Bear!” Will wonders never cease!
  7. arpeejay

    The Kid

    Part 1 By Richard Jasper I was watching my trainer spot the kid on what turned out to be the kid’s first successful attempt to bench more than 200 lbs. “That was 205, right?” he exclaimed. “Two plates, plus four 10s, plus the bar?” Frank chuckled. “You got it right,” he replied. The kid had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. You could tell he was totally psyched. “Great job,” I said, extending my hand. “You’ll hit 225 in another week or two, especially if Frank here is spotting you.” I stuck out my hand. “Derek Harcourt,” I said. “It’s Blake, right?” The kid’s eyes widened slightly. I’d seen him around and I knew that Frank knew him but whenever Frank and I trained together he always ran away. “Oh, sure, Mr. Harcourt, I’ve seen you around many times,” he replied, giving my hand a nice firm shake. “Frank’s told me all about you! Nice to be ‘formally’ introduced! Blake Michael Smith.” I frowned. “Hey,” I said, trying not to bark. “None of that ‘Mister’ stuff, OK? I’m old enough as it is! Just call me Derek, OK?” He laughed. “OK, Derek, you got it!” I call him The Kid but Blake wasn’t really, of course. He was, I later learned, 22 and recently graduated from nearby Ball State University, from which Frank, a few years older, had also graduated. But when you’re over 50, anyone under 30 seems like a kid and Blake was also what I refer to as “pocket-sized” – no more than 5’6 and, I also learned (because I asked), 145 lbs. Light brown hair, brown eyes, nice tan, well-proportioned, beginnings of a six-pack, short blond hair on his arms, clean-shaven. At 52 I was more than twice his age. I was also four inches taller and weighed literally twice as much as he did, 290 lbs. of fur-covered beef. It was a good bet my 24-inch arms were bigger than his quads and it was clear MY quads, 34 inches each, were bigger than his maybe 29-inch waist. “I’ll see you around, Blake,” I said. “Nice to meet you!” Then I went back to doing what I had been doing when I saw Frank setting up to spot him: Curling 275 lbs. for reps.
  8. By Arpeejay Part 3 can be found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14718-my-bodyguard-part-3/ Epilogue The rest, as they say, is history. Pop and Mom were not surprised when we greeted them holding hands when they returned from their wedding / honeymoon / golfing trip. They were all serious, of course, about the fact that we were very young and that commitments made at our age didn’t usually last past college, if that long. Likewise, they said, we might want to play down the fact that technically speaking we were stepbrothers. “Not that anyone is likely to give the two of you shit about anything, much less that,” said Mom, always the outspoken one. Pop just cleared his throat and nodded. The biggest change was that he and Mom bought a new house. Each of the existing houses had three bedrooms and two baths which was too few bedrooms and too few bathrooms from their perspective. We pointed out that we didn’t actually NEED a bedroom for each of us but they put paid to that idea. “Look,” Pop said, for once the spokesperson. “We don’t care WHERE you sleep but it will be good for each of you to have your own space. Mom and I each want an office of our own so don’t knock it.” They found a four bedroom, three and a half bath house, with a full basement, and an office, which gave them a bedroom, Nick and I each a bedroom, a bedroom to use as Mom’s office, and a first-floor office for Pop. Plus a three car garage and a pool. Nick and I were both kind of shell-shocked after the first tour. “Uh,” I said. “You DO remember that Nick and I are both planning to go to college, right?” Pop snorted. “Quite aside from the fact that at the rate you’re both going you’ll have your pick of academic AND athletic scholarship, your old man’s an accountant,” he said, smugly. “We have been living well within our means.” Whoosh! Nick and I spent that first summer lifting and lounging around and in the pool and fucking and sucking and lifting and swimming and… Well, exactly what you would expect us to be doing. “Just think of this as your honeymoon,” Mom said. “Next summer you’re getting jobs,” Pop added. Gulp! Of course, what kind of job they thought Nick was going to manage remained to be seen at that point. When we started our junior year of high school that fall, he was tipping the scales at 400 lbs. of solid muscle, bigger than any professional bodybuilder and most powerlifters. By that point he had a 40-inch waist but his chest was significantly bigger around than he was tall, his quads measured 44 inches, and his arms were bigger than my 32-inch waist. He officially retired from the high school weight-lifting team after a private session with the coach in which he benched an even ton – 2000 pounds – for one perfect rep. After he recovered from his near faint, Coach looked at me, looked at Nick. “You realized this means that Nick is far and away the strongest man on the planet, right? Quite possibly in all of history?” We nodded. “And he’s 16 years old,” I pointed out. He blinked a few times. “I’m guessing you would just as soon this was not public knowledge,” he surmised, correctly. I nodded at Nick. “Black helicopters,” he said. But that was OK, I took over as captain of the weight-lifting team that year. I started the year at 5’11 and 250 lbs. Let that sink in. In one year I had gone from 5’6 and 120 lbs. of nothing to 5’11 and 250 lbs. of total muscle stud. I weighed as much as Nick had done when he picked up Ralphie Peters and held him against the wall. “I’m assuming a 750 lb. 1RM bench is satisfactory?” Coach just muttered and fanned himself. “Come again,” Nick said. Coach spread his arms and looked towards heaven. “What did I do to be blessed with a couple of fucking muscle mutants?” We liked that idea! “Just call us the M&M’s,” we said. Relieved of any athletic competitions, Nick took up discussion and debate and before the semester was over the kid who had been reading below grade level a year previously was captain of the debate team. Meanwhile, I led the weight-lifting team to its second-consecutive all-state title and likewise broke all existing records for a high school weight-lifting team. And it never stopped. By the time we graduated, Nick had for all practical purposes transcended humanity. At 550 lbs. he was for all intents and purposes a national celebrity. Once he passed 450 lbs. (just before the end of his junior year) we decided to change strategies. Instead of trying to hide his size and strength (at that point his bench was closing in on 3000 lbs.) we decided to advertise it as much as possible. “World’s strongest kid is also world’s strongest man” went the usual story-line. We figured if we became extremely well-known it would be very hard for some black ops super soldier program to swoop him up. We had several visits from men and women in black suits, white shirts, black ties and very boring cars, then another set by big blowhards in uniforms with lots of ribbons on their chest. Pop refused to consent to any meetings without cameras and recorders present so they were perhaps a bit more reticent than they were otherwise. “Look,” he said, finally. “You DO understand that every supplement company in the world, much less the country, is after Nick for research purposes, right? We’re going to do the research, alright, but it’s going to be through Harvard or MIT or University of Chicago or someplace like that; and together, Nick and whichever university, they’re going to license the results. If you want to employ it, get in line.” By that time, of course, it was becoming apparent that while I was never going to catch up with Nick I was likewise off the charts in terms of physical development. On my 17th birthday I hit my max height, 6 ft., weighed 310 lbs., and was benching more than 1000 lbs. for reps. (I also hit max dick: 10 x 8 ½ inches, still a couple of inches shorter than Nick’s 12-inch cannon but an inch bigger in circumference. He wasn’t complaining!) As for me, I graduated Worthington weighing a dead even 400 lbs., with the same measurements Nick had had at that weight, only I was two inches shorter so I actually looked a bit thicker than he had done. I was kind of irked really. Not because I hadn’t caught up with him, despite having more than tripled my size in three years. No, it was because if I had gained an extra 25 lbs. and he had done the same the two of us would have weighed exactly 1000 lbs. And I thought that would have been cool! I explained this to Pup, who just rolled his eyes. “You DO understand that you’re exactly twice the size of your old man, right?” Pup was in pretty good shape before he met Mom but at 5’9 and a totally ripped 200 lbs. he looked freaking awesome. “Get a grip,” Mom added, who made no bones about the fact that she was delighted to have a gigantic food bill to feed her sexy husband and two gigantic sons! She referred to us as her “own private herd of beef!” Oh, and there was this. At graduation, Nick was valedictorian, I was salutatorian. “He’s the jock,” he joked beforehand. “I’m the brain!” Mom rolled her eyes. “You’re both going to Stanford,” she pointed out. “Get over it.” We were on stage together. He listened to my speech. I listened to his. When he was done, he motioned me forward and together we said. “Thank you Worthington, for bringing us together!” And then we kissed. The stadium erupted. Nick leaned in and whispered in my ear: “Am I still your bodyguard?” Over the din I was unlikely to be heard so I mouthed my response: “Until the end of time, Big Man, until the end of time!” THE END
  9. MuscleNexusTF

    Quarantined - Chap 1

    Hey guys! Here's the first chapter of a custom story I'm working on for a guy with lots of awesome ideas. It's something a bit different than what I normally do so hope you enjoy! Things are going to get crazy in the coming chapters... Originally posted on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/posts/quarantined-chap-20683663 Day 1 Devon yawned. Almost midnight and he hadn’t accomplished anything other than watching the news all night. It wasn’t even as if anything interesting was going on, he just wanted something on and then news was consistent enough where he didn’t feel the need to change the channel every five minutes. He took a long sip of beer. It was his third bottle, but he didn’t even feel a buzz. This depiction of Devon might lead someone to think he was depressed, or loney, but really he was just plain bored. His boyfriend was deployed overseas and Devon was out of money, so pizza, beer, and news at home was the most fun he was probably going to have all weekend. From the corner of his eye he saw his phone’s screen light up. A little bubble appeared that just said Scott, his boyfriend of three and a half years. Devon couldn’t help but smile a little. He unlocked the phone and the message from his boyfriend in a far away place appeared. His smile widened. Hey babe. Some of the men down here in Madagascar have gotten sick. Army’s not saying what it is. Don’t think they now. They’re bringing us home early just in case. Can you pick me up from the airport tomorrow at 9? Devon did a silent fist bump to the air, grinning ear to ear. YES! He wrote back, unable to hide his excitment. Scott replied with a heart and kissing emoji and ‘goodnight, see you soon.’ Devon clutched his phone to his chest and breathed in a deep satisfying breath. Tomorrow he would be reunited with the love of his life. Day 2 “Scott!” Devon spotted his big man in uniform and trotted over to him. “Hey Dev,” Scott replied quietly before giving his boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek. “Well I hope you can give me more than that, c’mon big guy give me a real cass” Devon said with a touch more sass than he intended. Scott smirked at him, but his eyes remained serious. Dark rings around them betrayed long sleepless nights overseas. “Later. You’re parked outside?” “Yeah, in the usual spot.” Devon went to pick up his boyfriend’s oversized luggage, but his struggle against the unusual weight of the bag was evident and Scott plucked it out of his grip easily. Devon couldn’t help notice thick muscle bulging against his boyfriend’s army uniform. Scott was always big, but was he always that big?! “Here, let me,” he grunted in a tone a little less friendly than Devon would’ve liked. The couple walked to the car in relative silence. Devons initial questions were deflected so he stopped asking assuming that his partner was over-exhausted by his deployment and the flight home. When they were both in the car and miles away from the airport Devon spoke up. “You’re awfully quiet.” He glanced sideways at his military man looking for a reaction and finding none. “Everything okay.” “Fine.” Devon shrugged, letting only a hint of irritation cross his face. He scowled at the road for a beat until an idea crossed his mind. He sharply turned and exited off the highway. The big army man startled in his seat. “What the fuck. Where are you going?” “C’mon, you must be hungry. We’re going to that diner on Main.” “I’m not hungry, let’s just go home!” Devon looked sideways at his boyfriend with suspicion. Was that panic he detected in his baritone voice. Scott was usually the calm and collected one of the duo, it was unusual to see him riled up. “Well I am. Come on, it’ll be nice.” He turned into the Dixie Cow Diner’s parking lot and put the car into park. Before Scott could utter another objection Devon was out of the car and on his way into the small but busy restaurant. With a nervous sigh Scott followed. “Table for two please,” Devon declared cheerfully to a frazzled-lookking waitress. “Sure thing love.” She glanced up to see a Scott creep in gingerly. “Military eats free,” she droned before adding “thanks for your service.” She picked up two menus and brought the couple to a window seat. “How’s this hun?” “Great, thank you.” Devon took a seat and started thumbing through the menu. He glanced up to see Scott standing awkwardly, beads of sweat forming on the sides of his face. “Come on you lug, take a seat.” Scott slid himself into the booth, but didn’t speak. “Jeeze, it’s not that hot in here, you sure you’re feeling okay?” Devon asked the big man. This finally seemed to grab his attention and he looked across the table with pleading eyes. “No!” Scott declared before hushing his voice to a whisper. “No, everything is not okay.” Before Devon could ask what the hell his boyfriend meant, he told him. “I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be back in Madagascar still in Quarantine, with the rest of my unit.” Devon blinked at the big man, unsure of how to process what he just heard. He simply said “is that why you wouldn’t kiss me?” “Yes.” “Why? What is it? Is it contagious? Do you have it?!” “I don’t know.” Scott buried his face into his hands and spoke through his fingers. “I don’t think I have it. I don’t have any of the effects….” He glanced up at Devon. “That’s how I got out. I found a uniform from another unit, one that didn’t do that expedition. And I looked healthy so…. I got out.” Devon let out a breathy sigh and sat back somewhat relieved. “Well then we have nothing to worry about.” He winked and let a small smile reassure his boyfriend. But neither man was reassured. “What can I get you boys?” The waitress appeared with notepad in hand. “I’ll have the eggs benny with a coffee please,” Devon handed his menu to the waitress and sat back. “All right, all right. Good choice. And for you?” She looked at Scott. “I’ll have the same,” he mumbled. “Great! I’ll just grab that menu from you.” She reached in front of scott and lifted the menu off the sticky table sending a wave of thick perfume into the big man’s face. HIs nose twitched and his eyes bulged. Before he could stop himself or deflect it he sneezed on the waitresses outstretched hand and menu. “Excuse me,” Scott muttered to her sheepishly. “Sorry about that.” She gave him a strained smile and turned on her heel. The rest of their stay proceeded uneventfully. They chewed their food silently. Making small talk here and there. Devon didn’t want to push his boyfriend on the elephant in the room quite yet, he’d save that for home. He did begin to worry though as he noticed subtle changes in his boyfriend. He was breathing heavier than usual and sweating like he had just finished a workout. Also-and Devon almost refused to admit this to himself as it was surely impossible-he thought Scott had gotten even bigger since sitting down in the booth across from him. His muscles pushed at the camo fabric of his uniform. The whole sight made Devon chew his lip with lust as he thought of tearing that uniform off his beefy boyfriend and seeing those muscles for himself. On their way home Devon decided he couldn’t wait any longer to bring up what hed’ noticed in the restaurant. “Scott. Have you noticed anything… Different? Like with your body… Getting bigger maybe?” Scott visibly stiffened. “What do you mean?” Devon registered the panic in his boyfriend’s voice again and saw him pulling at his collar as if to loosen it. “I don’t think I’m bigger. If anything I lost weight.” Devon drove in silence. He let the subject drop but mulled over it ferociously in his head. Scott was lying! He could always tell, and this time it was more obvious than ever. “Here we are big guy.” Devon announced as he swung into their driveway. He couldn’t help but notice Scott cringe at the last two words. He turned the key and silenced the engine. “Welcome home!” He turned to face his boyfriend and his smile dropped. “Scott??” Scott was matted in sweat and panting like an animal. Thick corded veins ran up his neck which was noticeably thicker. Devon mistakenly thought it might be inflamed and began to panic. “Jesus, you don’t look too good. Fuck. Maybe you do have that thing. You get into the house and I’ll call a doctor.” “No!” Scott panted, turning groggily to his boyfriend. “No doctor.” “But!” Devon began to protest when Scott grabbed his arm firmly. “No.” They stared into each other’s eyes. Devon’s were clear and exuding concerning. Scott’s were unfocused, bloodshot, and feral looking. Devon shook his head, not believing he was giving in. “Fine, but if you get any worse I’m taking you in.” Scott accepted this and clambered out of the car. “I nap,” was all he said before heading into the house, leaving Devon to bring in his bags. “Fair enough” the small man grunted to himself as he slung heavy camo-printed bags onto his shoulders. Upstairs Scott stared at his reflection in their bedroom mirror. His thoughts came slow and muddled. He knew he was infected. Why had he sneezed on the waitresses hand? He knew it was on purpose. He felt a strange desire deep inside him to spread the infection. He tried to suppress it, which only made it stronger. A crooked smile appeared on his face. He looked down at his body. His previously athletic build was replaced with a hard, vascular, bodybuilder’s build. His muscles bulged obscenely, dusted with a thick coat of hair. Barely contained in his standard issue military briefs his mutated cock strained to break free. Fattened to monstrous proportions by the infection it begged to release the infection into Scott’s unwitting boyfriend. “No,” Scott growled under his breath. He tried to suppress the urge… The urge to make his mate like him. He sat on the bed for a second before swinging his giant muscled feet onto and then into the covers. Devon slammed the trunk hatch down and locked the car. “There. Done.” He said to himself, satisfied. He looked up at the bedroom window he shared with Scott with a furrowed brow. “Better check on the big lug,” he thought to himself before making his way back into the house. Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed and want to be notified when I post future chapters or other stories please consider supporting my work on Patreon! It would mean the world to this broke-ass bodybuilder with a penchant for writing muscle growth stories 😂 ---> https://www.patreon.com/MuscleNexus <---
  10. arpeejay

    Big All Over

    Fair warning: If you've read one of my stories, you've read ALL of them, including this new one. -- RPJ Part 1 By Richard Jasper I wasn’t always Big All Over, you know! In fact, right through high school I was a bit on the scrawny side. By the time I graduated from high school I had reached my full height, 6 feet, but I weighed only 160 lbs. When I went off the college that fall, I decided it was time to do something about it and began the long, slow road to the Hugeness you see before you now. But in one respect I was always BIG and, yes, I’m talking about down below. I remember shortly after my 10th birthday my gym class had gone on a trip to the city pool and the coach was letting us change in the restroom stalls, knowing that some of us were more than a little bit modest about it all. Then I was getting in my suit when I heard this whispering and shushing and shuffling around. And then I noticed fingers on top of the stall and two of my classmates’ heads were staring down at my junk. “Whoa,” they both said. “Look at that!” It took me a minute to realize they were talking about my dick. “It’s bigger than my dad’s!” one of them exclaimed. “It’s way, WAY bigger than MY dad’s!” said the other. When I exited the stall, there was a group of boys standing there, staring at me, their faces slack with awe. I suppose if I had been a different boy that would have been a tremendous confidence booster. As it was, I just felt enormously self-conscious. Among other things, my dad had hightailed it when I was 2 years old and it had always been just me and mom and her closest living male relative was an alcoholic cousin who lived 500 miles away. I had no idea what a boy’s dick was supposed to look like, much less a man’s! After school and before Mom got home I sneaked a tape measure out of her sewing box and got to work. It was eight inches long and six inches around. And I was 10 years old. Keep in mind those measurements were soft. I may have started having nighttime stiffies by that point but if so I really paid no heed. Aside from peeing, I had never touched my dick and it had never occurred to me there might be a reason to do so. I looked up “average dick size” on the internet and found that mine was really quite large. “I’m a freak,” I said to myself. “That’s all there is to it. That’s why they stared.” Like I said, if I had been a different boy, things might have been different. Instead I doubled down on the self-consciousness, making sure I was never seen without my pants on, wearing extra baggy pants and extra tight underwear to keep my noticeable bulge under control. And when I DID figure out why touching it was fun, and saw how much bigger it got, I was that much more mortified. I graduated from high school a virgin. A virgin with a 14-inch dick. +++ “I can’t believe you’re talking to me.” “Why not?” he asked me. “Oh, c’mon,” I said. “You’re gorgeous and you’re built like a brick shit house.” It was spring break of my freshman year at Worthington University. My three roommates had persuaded me that we needed to go to Florida and, since Mom was willing to help foot the bill, I took them up on it. Donte, of course, was the main motivation for ME. Of the four of us – Blake, Caleb, Donte, and me – Donte and I, at 6 feet even, were the two tallest. But even though I had managed to pack on 20 lbs. of solid muscle during my freshman year, Donte made me look like a piece of spaghetti. Flawless rich dark caramel skin, startling green eyes, a strong jaw, cleft chin, dimples, and 235 lbs. of solid muscle, body fat was less than 10 percent. He outweighed me by more than 50 lbs. He and I were lounging on the balcony of hotel room, enjoying watching the stroller on the beach and sound of the waves crashing on shore while Blake and Caleb had gone looking for chicks. I had let all of them know at the beginning of the year that I was gay. I was willing to move if they had a problem with it but they were cool. Caleb, in fact, just rolled his eyes and said, “Dude, my dad came out when I was six years old. Chances are I’m more gay-acculturated than you are!” So it wasn’t exactly a surprise to Donte when, just now, I had more or less confessed I was in lust with him. Who wasn’t? The surprise was when he reached his big hand over and rested it on my crotch. “I may have the muscle,” he said. “You have the meat.” I blushed furiously but for once I didn’t try to run away. “I’ve always felt like I was a freak,” I confessed. He took his hand off my crotch, lifted his arm, and FLEXED! 21 inches of mountainous muscle rose up like a volcano of power. “Does this look freaky to you?” I shook my head. “It’s quite possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I replied. He dropped his arm and put his hand back on my rapidly engorging cock. “I want to see,” he said. I moved his hand away, then stood up. Slowly I loosened the draw string to my board shorts and began inching them down my developing quads. SPROING It was more than halfway hard when I dropped my shorts and it was all the way hard by the time it popped. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Donte said. “Would you look at that.” I started shaking. “Please tell me I’m not a freak,” I murmured. Donte stood up and wrapped his big arms around me, squeezing me against his magnificent torso. My dick slapped against his rock-hard eight pack, the tip reaching the crevasse between the steely globes of his incredible pecs. “That’s not freakdom,” he whispered in my ear. “That’s perfection.” And then he kissed me. And then he kissed my dick. There wasn’t any way he could take my monster, although he gave it a good licking. And then he turned me over and plowed my backside with his nine-incher. I was in heaven. A virgin no more. +++ “I can’t believe you’re talking to me.” Five years had passed since Donte had taught me everything there was to know about being a bottom and, then, slowly but surely, he taught me everything there was to know about being a top. Turns out where there’s a will there’s a way and eventually he took all 14 inches, smooth as you please! But now I was in a Podunk town somewhere between the Mississippi and the Rockies, south of the Dakotas and north of Texas. The first of many, many work trips for my consulting job. It could have been Scottsbluff or Greeley, Abilene or Muskogee. I was chatting up the barista at the local coffee shop, bored out of my mind and more than a little horny, with an afternoon to kill before meeting with a client. “I don’t know why not,” I replied. “You’re a handsome lad.” And he was, too. No more than about 5’8 or 5’9 and probably no more than 140 lbs. soaking wet but he had shaggy blond hair, big blue eyes, long dark lashes, pouty red lips, a sexy little blond soul patch, and cheekbones you could cut glass on. What was he still doing in this little going-nowhere-fast burg? “But you’re fucking huge!” he exclaimed, then covered his mouth. Because it was too loud? Because it was the F-word? Because that’s not the way you talk to your customers? I never found out. But he was right. At 24, I was fucking huge. Learning how to bottom and how to top weren’t the only thing Donte had taught me. He also taught me how to lift, how to eat, how to sleep, how to “supplement.” His big dick wasn’t the only thing he jabbed in my ass. Five years later I was 280 lbs. of solid muscle and physical development that few men were ever likely to achieve: 58 inch chest 32 inch waist 24 inch arms 32 inch quads 22 inch calves I was a fucking beast. And that was WITH my pants on, much less without them on. “And you’re fucking gorgeous,” I pointed out. Ditto, he was a little furball, copious blond brown curls poking out of the top of his white v-neck shirt. God may have blessed me with an enormous cock and the ability to put on prodigious amounts of muscle but She neglected at least two of the manly attributes. One, my beard / mustache was so wispy I never bothered after the first attempt during my first year at Worthington. Two, from the neck down I was pretty much hairless as a Chihuhua. My crotch and pits were bushy enough but nothing on my chest, abs, or arms, much less my back. Nothing but a wispy treasure trail connecting my navel to my pubes and moderately hairy legs. Yeah, he might be small but he was hairy, by God, and after muscle that’s what got my motor running. “Plus I’m gay as a goose and horny as fuck.” His eyes widened. “I get off at 2,” he said. I grinned. “Excellent, I don’t need to be anywhere until 6 p.m.,” I said. I wrote down my cell number and my room number at the best hotel (out of 3-4 total) in town. “If you feel like it, drop by,” I said. “I’ll show you what a real man looks like.” Much as he was enamored of my muscles, the Beast was the real show stopper. “Jesus God,” he moaned. “I’ve never seen anything like it in a porno, much less real life.” I put my big paw on the back of his blond head and guided his hot mouth to its target. “Lick it, boy,” I told him. Frankly, I was surprised. He managed, with some time and effort, to deep throat the whole thing. “Great hopping horny toads,” I said, at one point. “How are you managing it?!” He pulled himself off – SCHLOOP – which was an exquisite sensation in its own right. “Voice major,” he said. “Any voice major worth his salt knows how to unhinge his jaw!” And then he dived back on. All I can say is: Thank God for Voice Majors!
  11. arpeejay

    Twink Fucker

    Standard proviso: If you’ve read one of my stories, you’ve read ALL of them. Proceed at your own risk with this new one. – RPJ Twink Fucker Part 1 By Richard Jasper The standard rap against muscle guys is that we’re only interested in other muscle guys. (And, yeah, I’m talking about GAY muscle guys, obviously! I frankly don’t have a clue what straight muscle guys are interested in, other that tits and ass!) If you think about it, it makes a certain amount of sense. Clearly, any man who invests the amount of time and energy, dedication and self-sacrifice, to build a physique superior to 99% of his peers is really-really-really likely to be attracted to muscles, not just his own but those of other guys as well. Likewise, it’s true that bodybuilding is a lifestyle and most people who are not into the lifestyle just don’t get it. With another bodybuilder you can more or less count on him understanding the sometimes bizarre (from an outsider’s point of view) quirks that make up the sport. Always needing to eat, always eating the same thing over and over and over again. Needing to train, needing to rest, needing to rest some more. No time going out, no time for movies, no time for partying, and on and on. But that’s them, not me. Oh, yeah, by the way, Aubrey Jenkins here. If you follow the sport, you know my name. I’m a nationally ranked, superheavyweight IFBB Pro. Haven’t made it yet to the Olympia but everyone agrees it’s just a matter of time. I’m 28 years old and I’ve been training since I was 16, which is about the time I topped out at my current 5’11 inches. I was a reasonably athletic 160 lbs. when I started training and in the 12 years since then I have essentially doubled my weight. You read that right. Off-season I weigh right around 320 lbs. with no more than 10 percent body fat. On stage you’ll see me at 285 lbs. and totally ripped to shreds. Like I said, it’s just a matter of time before the Sandow Trophy is mine. Give me 2-3 years to achieve a bit more muscle maturity and I will knock everyone’s socks off. My rock-solid eight-pack waist is 34 inches which might seem large except that my chest is a gargantuan 64 inches. Likewise, fully pumped my arms stretch the tape to 26 inches, my massive quads are the same size as my waist, and my calves and my neck are a ridiculous 24 inches. I dwarf most normal men and plenty of BIG men get nervous around me. I may half a foot shorter than the typical NFL linebacker but I weigh about the same amount and mine’s all muscle. I’m as strong as I am built. My personal best bench press one rep max is 1005 lbs., more than three times my bodyweight, which puts me among the elite strength athletes in the world (there are a literally a handful of other guys in the world who can bench more than half a ton!) And to top it off, I’m hung like a horse. You don’t see 10-inch dicks on that many guys under 6 feet but mine is and it’s fucking thick enough – eight inches around – to choke the aforementioned horse. +++ My prodigious endowment notwithstanding, I didn’t get around to having sex until I was 19. I knew I had a big dick and I knew I wanted to share it with someone – but not with whom! Girls did nothing for me. I looked at guys and I was always torn. I envied the jocks and wanted to have a body like theirs and when I discovered bodybuilding mags, hoo boy! Now that was what I was talking about! But I liked the skinny little geeks and always preferred hanging out with them. What did it all mean? I was afraid to find out. By the end of my freshman year of college, I was up 200 lbs. of solid muscle, with impressively broad shoulders and a ridiculously small waist. My 46-inch chest loomed over my 28-inch waist, which made my 18-inch arms and 26-inch quads that much more impressive. What happened was: Peter Chan got me drunk and into bed. I will never be able to thank him enough! He was a year older than I was and shared a double with Dave Pancoast, another sophomore. Theirs was directly across the hall from the one I shared with Will Hubbard, a fellow freshman. The four of us hung out together, Peter and Dave serving as excellent guides to Worthington University for me and Will. The last weekend before finals of spring semester, Dave and Will decided they needed to take a road trip down to Panama City Beach, where Dave’s parents had a condo. Peter and I both begged off, claiming the need to bone up for finals. Ha! “Bone up” indeed! Come to find out, Peter had been “boning up” all year – looking at me! – and now was his chance to find out a few things. Like, was the big guy gay? At that point, of course, I wasn’t particularly “big” but compared to Peter, I was the freaking Hulk! A fifth-generation Chinese American from San Luis Obispo, Peter was 5’7 and 125 lbs. sopping wet. Even so, he was an athlete, having run track in high school and serving as coxswain for the Worthington rowing team. He was gorgeous. Straight, black hair, classic features, great tan, and ripped to shreds, smart as a whip, and funny to boot. And, for whatever reason, passing for straight, always talking about “chicks” and dating this one while checking out that one. I was too naïve to realize that they were all dykes and that Peter over the course of two years had already half the rowing team and was making inroads among the wrestlers and the football players. Somehow we wound up on the floor of his dorm room, polishing off a bottle of Seagram’s 7 that he had lifted from his old man’s liquor cabinet on his last trip home. He was leaning against his bed, I was leaning against Dave’s, our legs parallel to each other. “You’re fucking huge,” he said, at one point, and I laughed. “Don’t I wish,” I replied. But I put my hands behind my head and flexed, even so. He grinned. “Well, quite aside from the fact that next to me, ANYONE is huge,” he continued. “You’re 200 lbs. of fucking ripped muscle. And it’s clear you have a tremendous amount of potential.” At that point, I swapped positions and hunkered down next to him, looking up at his handsome face. “You really think so?” He ruffled my hair. “I think you could be an elite athlete in any sport you chose,” he replied. “But it’s clear that you’re destined to be a bodybuilder.” I closed my eyes, imagining it. And that’s when he kissed me. I was surprised and not surprised, realizing I had been wishing all along he would do so. I learned a lot that night, about myself, about Peter, and, most of all, about sex. I’d never touched another man’s cock, much less sucked it (his was a perfectly suckable eight incher, smooth as a popsicle), much less had mine sucked, much less played with someone’s ass, or had mine played with. But most of all I learned that I loved being next to a guy whose legs were no bigger than my arms, whose shoulders were narrower than my chest, whose waist was the same size as my quads. A guy I could curl, for that matter. I was already unusually strong, benching 385 for reps and curling 135 – 10 lbs. more than Peter weighed. “You’re so fucking strong,” Peter said, more than once. “And I know some fucking strong guys.” I liked that. “You like strong fucking?” I asked. He moaned. “Well, then, let’s give this a whirl!”
  12. NYCBlackMuscle

    Growing Too Big: Part 4

    Part four where we see how others are dealing with all this. Please let me know what you think. -------------------- The following work of fiction portrays men in sexual situations. Please do not read if you are not interested in stories written for erotic purposes, if you are not of legal age, or if it is illegal for you to read sexually explicit material in this format or through this medium. All characters in this work are fictional. As such, they are immune to any and all types of infectious diseases, including the AIDS virus. You are not fictional and therefore you are not immune. Follow safer sex guidelines or risk having some brainless disease write the ending of your life story for you. Copyright 2012 - 2014 by [email protected] Growing Too Big: Part 1 Growing Too Big: Part 2 Growing Too Big: Part 3 Growing Too Big Part 4 The hospital was quiet, dim corridors leading off from the nursing station past the rooms of sleeping patients. The Hook, as the nurses called it, the U-shaped desk that covered one side of a four-way intersection, had a view down each of the wings that during the daytime were filled with doctors, hospital staff and visiting families. At night these streets were empty except for the occasional passage of the late night cleaning crew, though even they were gone from this section of the hospital at this hour. Scott Worley had been a nurse for three years, two of them at this hospital. He was only 26 and knew that this might not end up being his lifetime career but for the moment he liked it well enough. The hours could be crazy but the pay was good – he’d already paid off the loans he’d taken to get through nursing school. Nowadays his life consisted of work, the gym and a couple nights out a week when he was off work. A sexy guy thrown in here and there was always a good distraction and he had the kind of athletic All-American look that drew attention so distractions were never too hard to find. Tonight Scott was bored and his shift-mate Karla was part of the problem. She was a good nurse, it was true, but she was lousy company for the two graveyards he worked each week. They sat next to one another in the Hook keeping watching over the monitors that showed the condition of the patients in their care. Right now all was quiet and Karla was reading a magazine. A magazine about knitting. “You know you could knit,” he said, annoyed that there were even such things as a knitting magazine. “You don’t have to just read about it, you could actually do it. Like bring knitting here.” She glanced at him for a second with vacant, watery blue eyes and then went back to her magazine. “I don’t know how,” she replied in a bored voice. “Then why do you read about it?” “I might learn someday.” It was more than he could take. He grabbed the patient list from the desk and headed down a corridor at random. Time to make the donuts. Truth was that there weren’t that many patients on the floor at the moment and of those they had only a few were serious cases. It was like that sometimes; they’d get a week or so of relative quiet and the next thing you knew they’d be slammed and the overnight shift would pass in a blur of medical emergencies. He looked down at the list and scanned the names. Nothing major down this corridor other than the heart patient who was alone in 412. He was an old black guy who’d been transferred to the floor from ICU two days earlier just after the start of Scott’s two days off. The other occupant of 412 had been released and sent home with his family just that afternoon. He glanced at his watch as he stopped at the door and saw it was almost 3 AM. He pushed open the door to find the room was dimly lit, apparently by a table lamp beyond the curtain that divided the space. The closer of the two beds was empty and he walked silently past it on his thick-soled nursing shoes before looking around the curtain at the bed closest to the window. Scott had read the chart so he knew that James Dalton was sixty-four, was suffering from cardiomyopathy and had flat-lined twice the day he was admitted. That he was already out of ICU was a miracle in itself, though not so miraculous as what the nurse saw now. The patient was lying back, propped up at an angle by the bed, one hand pulling at a nipple while the other slowly stroked a very large and very hard dick that jutted up from his groin. Even this was within the bounds of reason (though the size of that weapon was right at the edge of unbelievable) and not that uncommon since in Scott’s experience if a man could get it up he would get it up, even in a hospital bed. No, the problem was that the very large and very well built black man in that bed was obviously not a sixty-four year old heart patient. “What the hell did you do with Mr. Dalton?” Scott yelled more from surprise than any expectation of a real answer. Belatedly he wondered if it was a good idea to yell at oversized sex maniacs. The man in the bed opened his tightly closed eyes and rolled his head over to look at Scott. He didn’t seem surprised or embarrassed and simply smiled a bit as he continued his business. “Sorry, son,” he replied in a slow, deep voice, “I thought I had the place to myself.” Two rivers of thought flowed through Scott’s mind. One was a fairly orderly stream centered on the fact that they must have somehow lost a patient, that the old guy probably slipped out earlier in the evening (hopefully before Scott even came onto the floor) and left some young nephew or grandson behind. The other rougher torrent was a jumble of images, of smooth skin, dark muscle and a massive dick that seemed to imprint itself on his psyche and prevent him from escaping back to the Hook to sound the alarm. He needed to sound the alarm, he knew that, but his eyes seemed locked upon that incredible physique and the languid and casual way the black guy was pleasuring the full length of his equipment. “Can you help a brotha out?” the ersatz patient asked with a sly grin. Of course not, that was unthinkable, but Scott stepped forward nonetheless, one rubber soled shoe making a tiny shriek as it scuffed against the tiled floor. Things had suddenly gotten very weird very quickly and Scott had no idea how or why. At another time, in another place, he would have been happy to help this stud out but the hospital was not the place for that, especially with some sick old man on the loose. So yes, he moved towards the bed but it was really just a trick. He could see the nurse’s call box lying beside the man’s pillow, one of the older ones with a cord coming out the top that ran off behind the bedside table. He reached for it, the emergency button glowing a dull red. He would alert Karla and she would get up off her fat ass and help put things right. His outstretched hand closed around the box and he was surprised at how warm it felt, hot even, with a spongy texture that seemed almost lifelike. But of course it was lifelike, he thought a moment later, as his mind dully realized that what he had actually reached for was the massive dick that the man in the bed had, until a moment earlier, been stroking in lazy contentment. The black man had pulled back, apparently confident that this young male nurse had things well in hand. He laced his big mitts behind his head and let out a deep groan while his full, round biceps flexed into rock hard cannonballs on either side of his head. It was one of the most erotic things Scott had ever seen. The dick was too big for his hand to encompass and it soon proved too big for his mouth to conquer, though he attempted to make up for that with the energy he applied to the first 4 inches. Sometime in the middle of this the black man leaned over the bed railing and lifted Scott off his feet and up onto his prone body, the nurse’s legs pointed up to the head of the bed. Seconds later the smaller man’s scrubs were pulled from his body and tossed onto the floor. Scott was forced to let go of the thick veiny meat when the bigger man slid the uniform top over his head but as soon as his face was free he dived down onto it again, gagging himself on the thick head in his drive to suck it back in. Through it all the huge man kept up a low, growl of sex talk while his hands groped and prodded the nurse’s now nude body. When a fat finger found the tight pucker of his ass and then pushed inside Scott could not stop the humming squeal of surprise and pleasure that came from his throat. A moment later the man had spread Scott’s legs wide and attacked the hole with a strong, wet tongue. It was almost more than the smaller man could take and his body vibrated in response while is watery eyes rolled up under his eyelids. He did not stop sucking, however, finding that as his jaw relaxed more and more of the stupendous appendage thrust its way into the back of his mouth and the top of his throat. Dimly he wondered if he could possibly suck down the entire thing but it turned out that was not what his large friend desired. What he wanted instead swiftly became apparent as he pulled his dick from Scott’s mouth and then easily lifted him off the bed, rotated him around and pulled him back down so that they now lay torso to torso with the nurse on top. Their lips mashed together while Scott’s hands grappled at the mass of hard muscular flesh beneath him. The size of the man was overwhelming, from the thick shelf of his pecs to the rounded mass of his shoulders to the massive column of his neck. Everything seemed oversized and out of human proportion, on a scale that went far beyond what he had found attractive in the past. He liked his men fit, certainly; all his old boyfriends and sex partners had been in shape but none of them had been as overly muscular as this. How then to explain the overwhelming lust he felt for this titanic mass of a man? His ass was slick with saliva but when he felt the head of the big man’s dick pushing against his tight hole he almost tried to resist. Part of him wondered if he could possibly take something that size though at a deeper level he wanted nothing more than to try. In truth his defiance was only a thought that was quickly swept away, and even if he had tried to make a stand it probably would not have mattered. It became a moot point when the thick head of the man’s equipment slowly stretched Scott’s asshole open until the crown of his dick could pass through the tortured opening and into the warm tunnel on the other side. Both men let out a shared moan as the mammoth dick pushed its way further and further inside, forcing Scott’s insides to conform to the size and shape of their new master. He came the first time just from that seemingly endless initial drive into his ass, the head of the black man’s dick finally stopping somewhere far beyond where anyone else had ever gone. By then his body was jerking like a fish on the line as his own dick shot copious amounts of cum over the corrugated wall of the larger man’s abs. He went through a similar shuddering dance a couple minutes later and again not too much longer after that. All sense of time was lost as the thick, strong hands of his new partner gripped him at the waist and upper back and began moving the nurse’s body up and down like some sort of human sex toy. In time the heavy grunts and groans of the man became a long roar and he squeezed Scott even tighter as he began shooting his load. Like everything else about him the muscular black man’s orgasm was big, long and oversized. When it finally ended the nurse could barely breathe, so tightly was he held against the granite torso below. Slowly the other man’s grip loosened and when his hands slid down to cup Scott’s ass the smaller man took the opportunity to shakily push himself up on outstretched arms to get a better view of the man who had just violated his mind and body so thoroughly. The black man’s eyes were closed but a beatific smile played around his lips as if the session had been as amazing for him as it had been for the nurse. The bigger man chose that moment to flex the mass of his dick that was still lodged up in Scott's ass and he gasped once more, letting himself drop back down onto his partner’s sweaty and cum streaked body. The nurse’s face slid to the side and he found himself looking back to the curtain that he had quietly stepped past what felt like hours before. It had not been that long, obviously, but apparently it had been long enough to rouse Karla from the boredom that was her knitting magazine. His shift partner stood there, some 15 feet away, her eyes wide and no longer vacant. They shared a frozen moment in time, both their mouths opened wide in surprise, before the woman spun and with a shrill shriek of her nurse’s shoes fled the room.
  13. This story was posted on the old MG between 2007 (when the original archive was created) and 2014 (when the old site went under.) I thought sure I had posted it here but apparently not! (If someone can find it, please let me know!) As is often the case with my old stories, I never finished this one -- but I'm planning to wrap it up in the next week or so! This time I will try posting it all in one thread beginning with Parts 1-5. -- RPJ By Richard Jasper Part 1 June 1 I can’t believe I persuaded Mom and Dad to let me spend the summer here at the lake house! It’s my favorite place on Earth but Dad and Pops get along like oil and water so we never stay more than a week, which well and truly sucks. And, no, I’ve never figured out what that’s all about, although I’m sure some of it is that Dad secretly feels he doesn’t measure up. Not that Pops has or ever would make an issue of it or even think it. Still, Dad is a healthy, handsome, athletic, 6’2, 200 lb. middle aged man and Pops is, well, let’s be clear about it – Pops is a giant! Yes, he’s 70 but he’s 6’6” tall and I’m sure he weighs more than 300 lbs., maybe a lot more than 300 lbs., and he’s solid as a rock. He’s also the sweetest, nicest, most unintimidating man I’ve ever met, which I largely attribute to Gram. She’s also 70 but I’m guessing a sexier septuagenarian has never lived and it’s clear she keeps Pops on an even keel. The house is so cool, a large living area, big kitchen, a library, four bedrooms, and a full basement with a full gym, sauna, steam-room etc. Maybe I’ll put on some muscle this summer! God knows I’m tired of feeling like a shrimp. At 5’11 and 160 lbs. I guess I’m decent enough for a just-turned-18 newly-minted high school graduate but compared to Dad, much less Pops, I’ve always felt like I was an insignificant bug! Later… Made it to the house in record time, even with a stop at McKinnon’s to pick up some vittles and sundries. The kitchen is fully stocked, of course, but with Pops and Gram in Japan this summer they made a point of telling me it would all be packaged or frozen. So I picked up a steak, a baking potato, and a pre-made salad and… OMG! Old Man McKinnon’s new store manager is such a total hunk! Steve, as I found out was his name by reading his name tag, is about the same height as Dad, around 6’2, but he’s easily 250 lbs. and all of it is solid muscle. Probably 5-6 years older than I am, blond, blue eyed, tanned, smooth, totally ripped. Whoosh! I can see I’ll need to be making regular visits even if the kitchen IS fully stocked! Speaking of the kitchen, Pops left a big jar of his own homemade vegemite right in the middle of the kitchen counter with a note on it: Here’s hoping you’ll have a great summer, Roger! Spend some time in the gym and, remember, Vegemite tastes good on anything – or nothing at all! Love ya, Pops I had to laugh. Vegemite was one of those things that Dad and Pops always fought over, Pops insisting it was good for what ails you, Dad maintaining it was mined from the bottom of a toxic waste dump. He refused to let me have even a single bite of it growing up, which, naturally, just increased my fascination but somehow I never managed, despite my sneaky kid ways, to get into it and Pops, despite all my pleading, insisted in adhering to Dad’s wishes. As for Mom and Gram, they always said, “Vegemite is for boys,” which I took for granted although looking back on it that strikes me as an odd thing for two hyper-feminists to say! Needless to say, I got out the whole wheat bread, opened the jar, and slathered some on. Jesus! It was like ambrosia! Like peanut-butter and jelly combined with the best steak you ever had and a bowl of chicken noodle soup! How could that be possible – and what was Dad thinking? I ate three and now I’m about to pass out! More tomorrow! +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ June 4 Hard to believe I could be so busy all by myself! But here it is three days later and I haven’t touched the keyboard ‘til now! Man, I’m totally loving it here. My routine thus far: I get up. I eat breakfast (a LOT of breakfast – Vegemite on scrambled eggs, mmm!) I go downstairs and lift. I have a mid-morning snack (Vegemite on English muffin, mmmm!) I take a nap. I get up. I eat lunch (Vegemite on pancakes, delish!) I lift. I eat. I go swimming. I eat. I lift again. I eat supper (Vegemite casserole!) I crash. Today I went to McKinnon’s to pick up some more supplies (and to check out Steve again!) “Hey, Steve,” I said, trying not to drool. He looked me up and down, sort of puzzled like. “Hey, uh… Roger, isn’t it?” I nodded and smiled. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” he said. “You must have been more dressed up the first time I saw you, I thought you were smaller.” I shook my head. “Same old me!” Well, at least he noticed! Back at the house I pulled out the bathroom scale. I mean, after all, I’ve been eating like there was no tomorrow. And Steve was mistaken. What I wore to McKinnon’s today is exactly what I wore on the first visit. So how could I have looked smaller? The scale said: 172 lbs.!!! I re-checked it three times, then and found the scale in Gram’s bathroom, which said the same thing. Twelve pounds in three days? Well, that’s interesting! +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ June 11 It’s been a helluva week! More of exactly the same, of course, namely eat lift eat nap eat swim eat lift eat crash! Amazingly enough, I seem to eat more every day. Breakfast has gone from 2-3 eggs and toast and Vegemite to 8 eggs and 6 pancakes and a pound of bacon and Vegemite. But I don’t seem to be getting fatter. In fact, my abs – my body’s one good point – are looking sharper all the time. Not sure how that could be but, hey, why would I complain, right? I guess it’s all going into my lifts, which get better every day. I know you’re not supposed to do a full body workout every day but that’s what I wind up doing, split into three sessions. Man, I really love working chest! It’s great Pops has a Smith machine because I’d feel uncomfortable benching without a spotter. As it is, I have a feeling of total self-confidence! And my lifts get better every day! The first day I could barely bench my own weight (160 lbs.) for one rep and three days later I was benching 200 lbs. for 10 reps, which was something like an extra 15 lbs. every day. And then this past week I really took off! Today I managed one rep with four 45-lb. plates on each side! You heard it, that’s 360 lbs. plus the 45 lb. bar so that’s officially 405 lbs.! I mean, I know, it’s a machine, right, so it’s not REALLY like I’m benching 400 lbs. but it still sounds cool! I paid another visit to McKinnon’s this afternoon and, well, that was kind of odd. Steve acted like he didn’t recognize me at all! I said “Hey, Steve” and he replied with “Hiya” and kinda looked at me like “Who the hell are you?” I asked him how his week had been and before I could say more he snapped his fingers and said: “Oh, I got it, you must be that Roger kid's big brother, right?” I laughed out loud! “Steve,” I said, “what’s the deal? I’m Roger – I don’t have a big brother. Or a little brother. Or a sister. I’m a singleton!” His mouth fell open. “What are they feeding you out there?” he blurted. I rolled my eyes. “It’s just me,” I said. “I’m feeding myself. Gram and Pops are in Japan and my parents are in Germany. I’ve got the summer to myself!” He shook himself and then rang up the bill. “Well, man,” he said. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up! It’s working!” I laughed and said I’d see him in a week. As soon as I got home and put the groceries away, I pulled out the scale again. 200 lbs.!!! Good God Almighty! How is that possible?
  14. Part One "Ah, Henri, just the person I was looking for!" As Henri bowed to his Captain, Treville bowed in reply and as he came up added "You have to be one of the most polite Musketeers it has been my honour to have in the corps" and when whispered in Henri's ear "Just lay off it in public otherwise people might twig that you are from England!" Henri smiled and he said that he would tone it down a little, knowing that the Captain was the only member of the corps who knew his true origin. "Now, down to business" continued the Captain, "I presume that you know the Duke of Buckingham is coming to visit next week as part of his, so called, diplomacy" Henri nodded and sighed to which the Captain replied "Yes, my feelings exactly. We both know what he is doing here. He wants to be alone with the Queen for as long as possible. There are times I wish he'd just leave her alone, but, well, you can't say no to love I guess, therefore I wanted to know if you could have a word with the Ultimates for me?" "All of them, sir?" asked Henri, "but sir, I really only know the Ultimate Musketeer" "True" replied the Captain, "but well, your skills at diplomacy are renowned, after all you are the person who delivered the King's Lights back to Phillip of Spain in perfect Spanish" "And what is the message that you would like me to relay to them, sir?" smiled Henri *** "Sorry?" asked Roger, later that evening as he and Porthos were gathered at Henri's digs, "the King wants the Ultimates to greet the Duke?" "That's right" replied Henri, "you see he's had some intelligence, and it's correct intelligence, that the Duke is bisexual at best and he thinks that if he were to see the Ultimates he might lose interest in the Queen and start paying more attention with them and therefore put the King's mind at ease!" "Well" chuckled Porthos, "I don't mind showing him what the Ultimate Titan can do!" "What is the Duke like?" asked Roger to which Henri replied, "Well, let's put it this way" and began a very detailed explanation highlighting the Duke's relationship with James I of England noting that "one letter from the Duke to the King said "whether you loved me now…better than at the time which I shall never forget at Farnham, where the bed's head could not be found between the master and his dog" so make of that what you will" but as he continued Roger started to lean in and said "And he's bisexual you think?" "I am certain of it!" replied Henri *** As the Duke of Buckingham entered the courtyard of the Louvre, he was greeted by the King and Queen in person and as tradition dictated he kneeled before the King, kissed his glove, stood up, kissed the Queen on the cheek and announced himself as "His Grace, George Villers, Duke of Buckingham" As they greeted each other, Roger, now in the guise of the Ultimate Cadet looked at the Duke and whispered "He looks nothing like a dog" which was met by a glare from Henri, as the Ultimate Musketeer, as the King brought the Duke to them. "Your Grace" said the King, "these three men are the strongest and most powerful member of my Musketeers" and with that he nodded to Henri who stepped forward, towering over the Duke by a good two feet, and announced "I am the Ultimate Musketeer, the most powerful member of the corps, this is the Ultimate Titan, the strongest man ever to live in the world" and with that Porthos, as his alter ego, stepped forward, "and this is the Ultimate Cadet, a man who desires to become what we both are!" As Roger stepped forward, the Duke's eyes opened wide and as he traced out the Ultimate Cadet's pecs, he moaned "Such a work of art" and as he was led away by the King towards the Palace, the Duke turned and blew a kiss to Roger prompting Henri to chuckle "Get your coat, Roger, I think you've pulled"
  15. Lexfan

    Ben and Roger

    Part 1 Ben liked working out early mornings in a small gym because there were few personalities to deal with - he usually just kept to his business for the two hours or so his routine took. Ben was a bit obsessive about working out. And no denying his discipline had paid off. When he had graduated college two years ago, he had a slightly above average build. Now, at 24, he was 5'11" and 200 pounds with a muscular physique that would not look out of place on the cover of a fitness magazine. With his sandy blonde hair, broad chest and defined abdominals, he was an idealized version of the California surfer, except he had never actually been surfing. This Saturday morning Ben had arrived early to get in a heavy chest workout. Ben considered his full pecs his most impressive feature, and he liked to take his time when working them so he could put the maximum efforts into his lifts. Of course it would have been nice to have a partner to spot him, but besides the guy at the desk the place at this time of day was usually deserted. He was careful to make sure he never quite exhausted himself past the point where he could safely return the bar to the rack. As he was nearing that point in his third set of bench presses, Ben heard a deep voice behind him. "Go for it, guy, I got you covered." Looking up, Ben, saw a pair of large hands slightly beneath the bar, ready to catch it if he faltered. He could not see much of the guy those hands belonged to, but he could tell they were attached to an impressive set of biceps, more than capable of handling the weight. "Thanks, going to do two more." That was two more than Ben had originally intended, but he felt compelled to put on a good show now that he had an audience. When the bar returned to the rack, Ben swung off the bench and stood up to meet his spotter, a guy who Ben guessed to be in his mid-forties, although a touch of grey in his dark, short hair and slight beard suggested he might even be little older. He was taller than Ben, about 6'1," and even with the loose blue t-shirt he was wearing, Ben could tell the guy had an impressively muscled frame. To Ben’s eye, he must have weighed at least 220 pounds. Ben rightly considered himself pretty “buff,” but this guy put him to shame. What really caught Ben's eye was this guy's incredibly developed arms - the biceps bulged out like melons under his skin. He had a square-jawed masculine face that gave him what could be characterized as "movie star good looks." Not at all the type of guy that Ben expected to meet at this small out of the way gym on a Saturday morning. "Thanks guy, appreciate the hand." "No problem. See you're lifting some real weight. Mind if I work in?" "Sure, good to have the company. I'm Ben." "Nice to meet you, Ben, Roger here." He reached out and offered Ben a handshake, a gesture a little more formal than Ben was used to at a gym, but as he took the older man's firm grip in his own, Ben couldn’t help but notice the interplay of muscle in this guy's arm. "Want to take some weight off the bar for some warm up sets?” "No need. I'm good to go." Roger stretched his impressive frame across the bench and quickly pumped out twelve repetitions without any sign of strain. "Let's put some weight on, Ben." For the next hour and a half, Roger led Ben through a grueling work out, pushing Ben to higher weights on all his lifts. Ben was by nature competitive, and usually when he worked out with a partner, he tried to prove he was the guy who could lift just a little more. Ben grudgingly had to accept that on each exercise by their fifth set Roger was adding weight onto the bar for himself beyond what Ben could handle. As Ben spotted Roger during his sets, he could tell that underneath that blue t-shirt, the rest of Roger’s body was as impressively developed as those big arms. As they lifted, they talked and Ben learned that Roger was divorced, that he had founded a software company that had recently been bought out, that he had moved to the area about a month ago in order to start a new company, that he lived in a high rise with its own weight-room that was currently being refurbished, and he found this gym just looking for a place to use in the interim. Although Ben was by nature reticent to talk about himself,something about the older man's manner and the intent way in which he paid attention led Ben to discuss his life since college, his work, and his uncertainty about the future. They finished the work out with a set of tricep cable presses. Roger had given Ben some direction on form, and as Ben completed the last set, Roger stood behind him and gripped Ben's triceps with his large strong hands so he could feel the muscles exert with effort. "Nice. Good job!" Ben released the weight, and Roger stepped back. Ben took a deep breath and turned and put his hand on the shoulder of the man who had just coached him through the hardest workout he could remember. "Wow. Thanks man. Don't know I've ever felt this much of a pump." "No, Ben, thank you. I can't remember when I last enjoyed a work out this much. You have to come do it again at my new place once the weight room's done." "That would be great. Maybe you can give me some pointers on getting guns like yours." Roger glanced at his arms for a second, then smiled as he looked at Ben. "Thanks. Glad to show you what I can, but that's mainly a matter of pushing hard with consistency, and of course good genetics, which you obviously have in spades." Ben blushed slightly at the compliment, but kept his hand on Roger's shoulder. The two men awkwardly looked at each other for a few seconds. "Ben ... last minute, but have you got plans tonight?" Ben had made plans with a woman he had met a few weeks before, but he knew he could lie and get out of it. "No, not really." "Why don't you come by the apartment. I can grill us something, and we can watch a movie." "That would be great! When? Where?" "Let's say 7:30. Come out to the car and I'll give you the address." Ben followed Roger's broad shoulders out of the gym to a grey Mercedes sports car. Roger saw Ben's eyes grow when he saw the vehicle. "Nice wheels." "Can I give you a lift somewhere?" "Thanks . . . But I rode my bike here and I should be getting back." "Ok, well here's my number and the address. I'll see you this evening." As he watched the older man drive away, Ben realized that his pulse was racing. . . .
  16. LinkX

    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?”
  17. ragmangsm

    Machu Man - Part 1

    Hi All, It’s been awhile since I posted in the old forum and caused a disturbance in the force by introducing a 12-yr old superboy, Kyle in My Nephew stories. I’ve written a couple more chapters of My Nephew which would be more appropriate in the uncensored section. If there is an interest I can post the whole series or just the newer chapters. Below is a new story line with characters 18 yrs old or older. I am a whore for feedback. Please let me know if it pushes any buttons. -ragman Warning: This fantasy story is for adults only. You must be 21 years old to continue. Adult content may include nudity, mature relationships, violence, and extreme muscles and strength. All characters are over the age of eighteen. Machu Man – Part 1 By ragman I was struggling for breath in the altitude, as we approached Machu Picchu. The scenery was breathtaking, as well as the thin air. I was never an athlete, just average. I seemed to excel in academics, and had found mathematics a rewarding endeavor. I had just graduated and was hired to teach at our state university in the fall. So I thought I would take advantage of a student summer tour while I still had a student ID. The mystery of Machu Picchu, how a town could have been built on top of a mountain, out of huge stone boulders, was fascinating to me. The low cost of the student tour to this world landmark, made it something I couldn’t pass up. I meandered around the city on top of a mountain. The size of the stone slabs that made up much of the structure was enormous. How blocks of granite the size of cars were fashioned and hoisted in place was incredible. But more amazing was how tightly the stone slabs fit, how exactly, without mortar to seal them. How could primitive man manage to transport hundreds of tons of solid stone to the top of a mountain and then, with no metal tools or machines, build a city where every stone is precisely placed with perfectly tight seams requiring no mortar? My scientific brain was trying to imagine how such a feat could be accomplished. It seemed truly impossible. My head was filled with incredulousness as I was fumbling with my camera, trying to capture the impossible beauty of our three dimensional world on a two dimensional digital image, when I tripped and dropped my camera. It fell off the path and down the mountainside, but came to rest on a shelf of rock about six feet below the path. I was pissed at my clumsiness, and overreacted to the mishap. Without concern I shimmied over the path down to the ledge to retrieve my camera. It wasn’t until I was standing on the ledge that it occurred to me that I was in a dangerous spot, trusting on the ledge alone. I reached down cautiously to get my camera, putting it in my sweatshirt pouch. As I bent back up, I noticed a glimmer coming from a fairly deep crack in the rock. It looked like a metal sheen. I carefully dug around the object, until it came free. It was a small earthen jar, sealed with a gold top, the reason for the gleam. I put the jar in my sweatshirt pouch. By that time, my disappearance over the edge of the path had caused the guide and others to come to my aid. They helped me climb back up on the path, though I could have managed by myself. I assured them I was fine and showed them the camera I retrieved. I decided not to mention the jar. I don’t know why, I guess I didn’t want to share it yet. We continued the tour of the city. Beautiful stone and rock construction, with running water viaducts, and mysterious obelisks. The scale of the dwelling was awesome, suspended on top of the world. My senses were overloaded with the majesty and the architectural undertaking it took to build it. I was enthralled with beautiful images the entire bus ride back to our lodging, having forgotten about the small jar in my sweatshirt, now in my pack. We barely had time to grab a bite to eat and pack our bags before heading back to the airport for the journey home. ****************** I was moving into my new place just off campus, looking forward to starting my mathematics teaching career. I didn’t have that much to move in, being a recent student with not a lot of furniture or belongings. So, I had rented a furnished townhouse, and was unpacking the last of my stuff. Ah, the knapsack from the Machu Picchu trip, I had quickly packed it when leaving South America, and hadn’t needed the stuff in it, my sweatshirt included. I unstuffed the fleece and felt something in the pouch. The little jar, of course, I had forgotten. I took it out of the pouch and examined it more closely. There were some markings on it. On the face of the small jar was etched a figure, but it was out of proportion somehow, almost fat, but different. And the gold top had a character inscribed, also. It looked like an “8”. My curiosity soon led me to wonder about the contents. I tried to uncork the top, but I couldn’t get the gold stop to budge. I finally decided to try my mom’s remedy and put the top under hot water for a few seconds. I tried again, and the top shifted slightly. I mustered all the strength in my thumbs and jockeyed the stopper out of the neck of the jar. The final millimeter gave with a “Pooh”. A dense cloud of blue gas escaped from the bottle and swirled around in front of me, condensing into a human form. The gases solidified and became solid. Before me stood a young man. He was about six feet tall, my height, with golden hair and blue eyes. His face was young, I’d say, seventeen or eighteen, with tanned skin. He wore only a piece of what looked like leather, in a loin cloth fashion, that covered his man-ness. He was svelte and muscular, like a fitness model, with wonderful proportions. “You have summoned me to serve you, Master,” he spoke with soft resonance. “How can I please you?” “Who are you? Why are you here?” I babbled. “I am yours. You hold the vessel of my control. I am here to obey your every command. You decide my purpose and identity. I will become your perfect companion.” I was stunned to say the least. This couldn’t really be happening, could it? A genie from a bottle, no less. What should I do next? “Please tell me how to begin. I am at a loss for what to say,” I requested. “I am sorry I have caused you distress. I will try to ease your discomfort.” The teenage Apollo approached me and embraced me gently. His touch was warm and enveloping. He exuded confidence and trustworthiness. My defenses were slowly lowering as he moved his strong hands over my body in a caress. “Does that make you less tense, Master?” he asked. “I have many ways to give you pleasure, that you will learn to command. My body can do things no one else could dream of, and you get to do the dreaming.” “I don’t understand,” I replied. “You will just do whatever I ask you to do?” “Yes, Master.” “With what kind of limits?” I added. “Do I just get three wishes?” I asked like a fool. “I have no limits, Master. You can command me to do anything.” “What are we talking about here?” I pondered. “What do you mean you can do anything” “I have the power of the galaxy in my body, the strength of a millions suns. I can do any feat of strength you can imagine, I have inconceivable control of every muscle of my body.” “This is too much to believe,” I struggled. “I need to take a minute.” Perhaps this is a good time to mention that I have always been turned on by muscles, on men or women, but especially men. I have found the muscled male body to be a work of magnificent sculpture, of muscle art. I have curbed or mitigated my private fantasies, relying on internet sites for titillation and amusement, always secretly wanting a muscle mate, to dote on and worship, who would protect me and make my wishes come true. What was standing before me fulfilled a fantasy of my lifetime. “I noticed you were beginning to rub me back, when we embraced. Did you like the feel of my body?” “You are beautifully handsome, and I have a weakness for big, strong muscles,” I was surprised to hear myself admit that to a genie. “You are captivating, and intriguing.” “So if my muscles were bigger, that would please you more?” “Probably,” I nodded. “I haven’t had the opportunity to find out.” “How about this, Master?” The genie tensed his muscles. He expanded outward with the flex, bulging and rippling with growing muscles until he looked like a teenage bodybuilder. “Whoa, that’s amazing how you can flex your muscles that big. It makes me want to feel how hard you are now, how strong you have flexed.” The muscled teen stepped to me and offered his flexed biceps for me to explore. He grabbed my hand gently and placed it on top of the peaked split of his 20 inch arm. It was hard, and warm and alive. He flexed a bit harder and forced my fingers apart with his bulging muscle. “This arm is all yours, Master. You can command it to grow and strengthen with the power of thunderheads, or order it to flex to the ceiling or higher.” I was awestruck with the possibilities of his power. With his confidence and demeanor, muscles and charisma, he was the perfect fulfillment of my wildest fantasies. “Does my demonstration please you, Master?” he asked hoping for approval. “I’ve never been more pleased,” I managed to mutter. “But, I think it’s time for you to call me Mike, instead of Master. That’s my name.” “Very well, Mike. You are unlike the others. You are kind. Thank you for allowing me to please you with my strength. Nothing gives ME more pleasure than using my immense strength and powers to benefit those with good hearts. My vessel has not always been in possession by those who have benevolent thoughts. Regardless, I must obey the commands of my owner, it is my purpose.” “When were you last released from your vessel?” I asked, trying to assimilate what I was hearing. “My last task was building a city of stone on top of a mountain.” “Machu Picchu?” I asked incredulously. “You built it single handedly?” “No, Mike. I built it with both hands, and the rest of my powerful body.” Obviously, he was going to answer me literally. “So, you’ve been in the jar for all this time?” “You are my first Master since Machu Picchu, as you call it.” “Whoa, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” I marveled. “It’s been a few years since you’ve been out of your vessel.” “It pleases me that you will be my Master, Mike. I will learn all there is to know so that I can serve you,” he said. “Uh,…. OK.” I responded with fascination. “Can we talk a little more about how this works? I’m not sure I get what’s going on.” “Of course, Mike. Whatever you wish.” he said obediently. “That’s what I mean. Do you just follow me around and do stuff for me?” I was confused. “I’ve got a lot of questions.” “I am here to do whatever you ask of me, Mike. In the past I have been the servant of Kings, and tyrants, alike. I can build you a monument, defeat your enemies, or serve your every physical desire.” “So you have no desires of your own?” I asked. “Only to please you, Mike,” he said humbly. This was going in circles, so I decided to change the subject to everyday matters. “So, where do you sleep? Do you eat?” Stuff like that. He explained his ability to adapt and fit in with humanity. He said he didn’t require food or water or sleep, but, he could consume anything I wanted him to, literally. He told me some of his masters kept him in his vessel while they slept, for fear he would escape, which he could not, or to keep him secret. I asked him if he minded being in the vessel. “It is what my masters’ wished,” he responded, not understanding the meaning of the question. I still couldn’t believe what was happening. I just stared at the loincloth-clad Adonis before me. He started to look around. “How long have I been in my vessel? Where are we Master Mike?” he inquired. “Is this your dwelling?” “Wow, I didn’t think about how many questions you would have, I was so lost in my own wonderment,” I apologized. “Where shall we start?” “Start wherever you wish to begin,” he obediently replied. I rolled my eyes at the repetition of his acquiescence. “Can we begin with you not being so subservient? I’d like you to be a friend, not a slave.” He responded with confusion, “I’ve never had friend, nor do I know how to be one. Would you please teach me, Mast…eh…, Mike, my f-r-i-e-n-d?” he asked sheepishly. “I’d love to, Friend!” I added eagerly. I moved to him and put my arm around his sculpted shoulder and gently squeezed. He was warm and hard and responded with his arm on my shoulder. It was heavier than I expected. “Well, to answer your first question, it’s the year 2014,” I began. “And you are a long way from Machu Picchu.” ******************* I had a few days before I started work, so we were able to spend some time together, getting to know each other, or rather me learning about his abilities, and Machu Man, learning about what pleased me. The experience was mind blowing. I asked for him to demonstrate his true strength. He told me that was not possible, because he had found no limits. I caught my breath, and tried to comprehend what that meant. He picked up an empty wine bottle and placed it between his pectorals. He flexed his chest and his cleavage grew to almost surround the bottle. Then he flexed harder and I heard glass shatter, but he contained the fragments within his cleavage. Next he began flexing each pec and grinding up the glass between them. I could see the pieces get smaller and smaller until the mixture was like fine glass cement. Then Machu Man flexed harder and his pecs began to heat up. He poured on the power and soon the glass dust was a molten blob of glass that continued to get hotter with the enormous pressure and heat he was generating with his chest muscles. The blob began to boil between his pecs, and evaporate in a cloud of silica steam that was thousands of degrees hot. What happened next was my first observation of his true nature. He inhaled the superhot glass steam through his nostrils, like he was smelling roses. After a few seconds the entire glass blob was reduced to steam, by the heat of his muscle pressure, and inhaled completely. I was speechless. “That is one way I fashioned the huge stone blocks of Machu Picchu so they would fit perfectly together,” he commented. I’d soften the side of a stone block by hugging it real hot. Then when I placed it, the stone would flow like lava and seal with the stone next to it.” I heard what he was saying, but still couldn’t fathom the reality. “I’d pile three or four huge boulders on top of each other and carry them up the mountain balanced on one hand, like a waiter holding a tray.” Machu Man held his right hand up with the palm facing up to demonstrate the position. The movement of his arm caused his biceps and deltoids to flex into a perfect display of hard, ripped muscles, with the biceps full and long in their 22-inch flex. He then pumped his arm up and down as if he were lifting a mountain of boulders. His triceps expanded into a boulder of muscle itself as he mimicked a one-arm press. He seemed to notice my fixation with his flexing, enjoying my reaction. “Then I’d start piling them up, building a wall or arch,” he continued to mime, as he would spread his arms wide to pretend lifting a huge block of stone. His pantomime was extraordinary. His chest and arms exploded with striated muscle fibers as he appeared to lift a huge weight before him. Then things got pretty freaky. “Then I would expand my chest really big like this,” he moaned. “Unnnmmpphh.” His perfect pectorals expanded hugely, filling in the space between his outstretched hands, which must have been 6-feet apart. “Then I would flex my muscle fibers really hot, like I did with the wine bottle.” Suddenly the room temperature spiked from the heat of his pectorals as he demonstrated his power. “Oops, too hot for indoors. But, you get the idea,” he continued his skit. “So I’d soften the entire side of a huge block of stone with my enormous chest, then place it where I wanted, and gently press the stone. The softened face would mold perfectly to fit tightly.” As Machu Man concluded his description of boulder masonry, he seemed to misinterpret my enthrallment. “Have I displeased you Master Mike?” he asked worriedly. “I thought you might enjoy my tale. You haven’t said much.” After regaining my composure some, I tried to respond. “Y... you made the city by melting the stone faces with your pecs?” I finally muttered. “Yes, Mike. That is one of the methods I used to make the stones fit perfectly. It only took a fraction of my strength and power to build Machu Picchu. Stone is easily broken and melted with enough pressure. And these muscles can exert more than enough pressure.” Machu Man raised his arms and brought them down into a double biceps pose. This time, with his hands in the classic position, his biceps erupted into twin Matterhorns of peaked spendor, easily eclipsing 27-inches. My junk could take no more. My erection was painfully confined by my pants, but clearly visible. He smiled and pumped another 2 inches out of his peaked muscle mass, then waited for my reaction. I moaned and pumped ejaculate out of my tented member, staining my pants. “I was worried that my muscle story had disturbed you. I am grateful that you seem to be pleased,” Machu Man spoke softly. “I want very much to please you.” ‘I have never heard of a mason that melted his stone for mortar,” I marveled. “I don’t think anyone has called me a mason before,” he replied. “You know, ‘Mason’ would be a good name for you. It’s kinda clever, if I do say so myself, and it sounds strong, with some distinction.” I was pleased with my suggestion. “What do you think about me calling you Mason?” Machu Man started to respond as usual, “If that is wha…… I mean,… I like …Mason. I can identify with the name.” “Awesome,” I agreed. “Awesome?” Mason questioned. “It’s a current slang expression than means ‘better than ever, great, or super good’,” I tried to explain. “I think being your friend will be awesome, Mike,” he smiled. I melted. After I composed myself I began again. “There is so much to teach someone who has been away for 900 years. So much history, so many new inventions, such a different way of life than you know of. We have machines and tools, electricity and nuclear power…. We’ve even traveled to the moon.” Mason gazed around the room as I spoke and took in everything. He didn’t seem to be overwhelmed by it all, indeed, he seemed to soak it all in. “You need to teach me how to operate all these devices,” he remarked as he scoped the TV, computer, refrigerator, oven, and all the furniture. “I will, Mason. You’ll be amazed with all things in this modern world. But, first, I think we need to deal with your appearance.” “Oh?” he wondered. “Do I need to add more muscle to please you, like this?” He stood more erect and flexed a bit all over, causing him to expand his musculature to a pro bodybuilder size. It was breathtakingly amazing how he could grow at will like that. After I stopped gasping, I said, “My god! That’s not what I meant, but you are magnificent. I was talking about your loin cloth. I don’t think you’ll fit in wearing only a piece of hide. We need to put modern clothes on you. Or at least some shorts that make you more presentable.” I was thinking how I didn’t want to cover up his upper body. “OK, Mike. I’ll take this off” Before I knew what was happening, Mason reached for his waist strap, which was made of heavy rawhide, and easily tore it apart, causing his loin cloth to drop to the ground. There in my townhouse stood naked perfection. I stood, waveringly, as I took in his splendor. He was perfect. His proportions were perfect. His muscle definition was perfect. His skin seemed more perfect than I noticed before. His eyes were bluer than I remembered and his golden hair was perfectly silken. And his manhood was…perfect. In its relaxed state his cock hung with throbbing veins snaking around its perfect 8-inch length. His two testes filled his perfectly sized sac and exuded power. Mason stood there with no embarrassment, naïvely actually, and waited for his next instruction. “What should I wear, Mike?” broke the silence. “Uh, er…. Why don’t you try a pair of my undershorts?” I managed to answer. “Here, try these on. They are stretchy and fit snuggly. Then put on these cargo shorts. The legs are bigger so they should fit you better.” “Thanks, Mike. It’s cool that we both are about the same size, when I’m not flexing much.” ‘Not flexing much’? He seemed pretty big to me. How big could he flex? ***************** Finally, I had to report to work. I told Mason he should watch TV, or surf the net, to learn about what was happening in this era. He sat down and turned on the tube. When I got home he was in the same position, with the TV on a news channel and the computer screen flashing pages at an astounding rate. “Have you been watching that all day?” I asked. “That was your command, Master Mike. Though I must say, much of this news is repetitive and opinionated.” That sounded very astute. “I learned how to manipulate the computer so it would show several pages at one time. And scroll faster than it was set up to. So I was able to read all of Wikipedia and all the books in the Library of Congress while you were at work. Mankind has made many advances, but still seems to allow suffering at the hands of religious tyrants or greedy tycoons.” I heard what he said, noticed the computer flashing multiple pages a second, and tried to comprehend his enormous abilities. “There seems to be a variety of disasters around the globe, earthquakes, floods, wars, killings. Do you wish me to stop them?” he asked, matter-of-factly. “You have the strength and power to stop earthquakes?” I was amazed at the concept. “If you command me, Mike.” “I don’t want the responsibility to decide who gets saved, and who doesn’t. And what unintended consequences might result from messing with Mother Nature. Frankly, I was enjoying your company. This is a new town, and a new job for me. It’s kind of stressful dealing with it all.” Not to mention pondering the presence of a god, which I didn’t. “I was wishing you would be my friend, someone I can count on, for support and comfort.” “Of course, Mike. Let me support and comfort you now.” Mason picked me up effortlessly in his muscled arms and held me close. His warm, throbbing body was electrifying. I felt a surge of energy and well-being that made me shiver. “What would friends do after a day at work?” Mason asked. His question caught me off guard. “I guess, they would head to a game, or go get a drink.” “Game? That sounds interesting. What games do you play?” “Oh, I like to play most sports, I just never had the drive to work that hard. I think there’s a baseball game tonight, at the college. Do you want to go?” “If that is your desire, Master Mike.” I flinched a bit. ************************* We headed to our seats in the bleachers. I bought us each a couple of hot dogs and a beer, to teach Mason the proper way to watch sports. He watched me bite into my dog and enjoy the fatty delicacy. I watched him take the entire hot dog, put it in his mouth, and suck it down his throat in one piece. “You might want to chew your food before you swallow it whole, when you’re in public,” I suggested. “Of course, Mike.” He bit off a hunk of his other dog, chewed once and swallowed. “Please don’t waste your money on food for me. I don’t require it.” “OK,” I agreed. “Let me tell you about the rules of baseball.” I hadn’t tried to tell someone about baseball, that hadn’t seen a game before. It’s not that easy to explain. It is truly a unique game. There are no time limits, a team can overcome a seemingly insurmountable lead in the last inning and win. Plays that count are sometimes out of bounds, like foul flies. And other oddities of the game. Mason seemed to learn very quickly. In the bottom of the ninth, our team needed three runs to wins. We had two runners on, with the winning run at the plate, and two outs. The batter swung and popped it up in the infield. “Damn, I wish he coulda hit a home run, out here in the bleachers,” I unknowingly spoke. “As you wish, Mike.” Mason pursed his lips and sucked in like a tornado. The ball reached the top of its arc and was sucked towards the bleachers, caught in the vacuum of Mason’s breath. Once the trajectory was altered and the ball was headed our way, he stopped inhaling and I watched the ball fall from the sky into his outstretched hand. The home crowd went wild with the homerun, the other team was baffled by an easy out turning into a loss. “Shit, did you do that?” I said staring at the ball in Mason’s hand. “It is what you wished,” he said, proudly handing me the ball. I needed to be careful what I casually ‘wished’ for. “Do you want to go to the bar, like friends?” he asked. “Yeah, that would be great,” I answered, holding the ball in my hand, still wondering how he did that. “Except, you don’t have any ID. You can’t get in without ID,” I stated. “I have been smuggled into places in the past, Mike,” Mason said. “I can return to my vessel and you can carry me in your pocket. Once inside, you can release me where it’s safe.” Huh, that sounded possible. We headed back to my place to get his vessel. ************************** I was curious. “Tell me more about how you and this jar work.” “Of course, Mike. My vessel holds the essence of my power. He, who possesses it, possesses me.” “But, it looks quite fragile, like it could break. What happens to you if your vessel is damaged?” I asked. Mason was lost in thought. “I have not been asked that question before. If my vessel were destroyed, I would have no Master to serve. I would have no purpose.” “While I’m your ‘master’, do you automatically protect and save me, or do I have to wish for every rescue, specifically?” I was somewhat embarrassed that my analytical, mathematical mind was asking such lame questions. “When I take human form out of the vessel, it is my purpose to see no harm comes to you, my Master, as I fulfill your desires,” Mason stated. “Do you still wish to go to the bar, like friends?” His frank honesty, his unbelievable power, combined with his manly tenderness, all wrapped up in a six foot tall gorgeously muscled body, was making me forget about the rest of the world. “Or should I just entertain and please you here?” he asked willingly bouncing his pecs. “My desires to please you are greater than for any other master. I feel stronger, more alive, more powerful with you as my Master, Mike. Thank you for caring about me. No one has ever cared about me before.” “Hey, that’s what friends do. They care for and look out for each other,” I said, putting my arm around his muscled shoulders. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have found you as a friend. Who else has a friend that can suck a pop-up into the bleachers for a winning home run?” “Did you like that,” he grinned. “I thought you might. I know you didn’t REALLY wish for it, but it IS what you said.” “Why, you son-of-a-gun,” I joshed, punching him too hard in the gut, a mistake that gave me a sore hand. “You even have a sense of humor. I love it.” Mason looked at me softly with a smile. “OK, here’s my real wish, all the time, while we’re friends. I wish you would show your sense of humor often, and I wish you would express your views freely. I don’t want a sycophant for a friend.” “OK, I’ll just be your lover.” I was silenced. “Ha-ha. My second joke,” his laugh was forced. My face was flushed. He saw my reaction. “I’m sorry, I see I may have offended you, my friend,” he spoke with sincerity. “My past owners have often ordered me to perform for them, as well as win wars. I am inexperienced with speaking freely, with humor. I was trying to amuse you. Please forgive me.” He lowered his head in shame. “Hey, come here. I love you, bro. Now that the shock is over, that WAS pretty funny.” I gave Mason a hug. He seemed to be relieved. “So, I know what will make you feel better, Mason,“ I tried to change the tone. “I wish you would pose and flex and turn yourself into the most beautiful muscular specimen on the planet, just for me.” Mason’s eyes lit up, even sparkled, as his posture regained his confidence. “Nothing would give me more satisfaction. Would you please give me a measurement to work from?” he asked with anticipation. “How about 30 inch biceps,” I responded, finally understanding the question. “Ah, probably the upper limit of most men. And a most wonderfully aesthetic size, allowing for beautiful symmetry on my six foot frame.” Mason took off the clothes he was wearing, my shirt and pants, leaving my stretchy boxers. It was convenient that he could wear my size, so we were able to avoid shopping for him, while my budget was tight. I took a comfortable seat on the couch. Mason stood just a few feet before me. “Thank you for asking me to pose for you. Masters of yore did not appreciate my body as an object of worship, with large bulging muscles. They were intimidated with how I could flex my muscles to huge proportions, making them feel insignificant and insecure. They always feared me.” He continued with praise, “You are different. You have a desire, a fascination for seeing my muscles flexed bigger than anyone has wanted me to flex before. Thank you for liberating me with your desires, Mike. I will do my best to please you.” Wow, please me he did. He began with kind of a dance, that was flowing and sensual. His tightly muscled physique was undulated, and defined. Wonderfully sharp and articulated muscle fibers appeared on his lean body. Then his muscles began to grow. His muscle fibers split and bulged anew, adding inches of hard, vascular, teen muscle to his youthful bodybuilder frame. He started to add a second of ‘freeze’ to his rhythmical movements, stopping to flex a pose. Each pose he flexed, got bigger and more defined. His calves mushroomed to 27 inches of diamond hard, angular, vascular, throbbing, double cantaloupes of snarled steel muscle fibers. The tear drop muscles over his knee looked like two fifty pound bags of cement, that would churn into striated ridges of muscles when he flexed, while the rest of his quad exploded with huge cables of criss-crossing sinew reaching at least 58 inches, each. As his routine continued, he would turn around and show all sides of his amazingly muscled body. His bulbous strips of gluteus muscles, his mogul mountain of hamstrings, all stood out with deep crevasses defining each muscle. His two lower back, spinal cables were thickly twisted muscle strands that could hold a suspension bridge aloft, growing even larger and more rippled as they moved up along his spine. His lats flared out in slabs of thick wings, with individual muscle ‘fingers’ squeezing out of the edges of his wide ‘v’ shape, that fought for space with his ballooning triceps. His traps were casings of bulging sausage that came up to his ears. I was having a hard time absorbing everything I was seeing. The absolutely stunning musculature before me, had not been seen by a human before. I felt inadequate, yet in a way, somewhat responsible for the emergence of his new existence. I could only stare and try to comprehend his power, his strength, all that he was surrendering to me to fulfill my desires. He kept dancing and posing, turning and flexing. I witnessed the most intricate and condensed display of abdominal muscle in the world, within a waist that only measured about 28 inches. The narrowness of his waist sharply contrasted the slabs of pectorals and lats that made up his 76 inch chest measurement. He raised his arms and flexed a double biceps pose. The caps of his massive shoulders fought for space between his head and biceps. The bowling pins of his forearms were 22 inches at least. And crowning the statue of muscle perfection, were two multi-headed monoliths of might, measuring 30 inches around. “Please don’t move for a moment,” I managed to whisper. I needed more time to take him all in, to force myself to breathe. Mason smiled at me and tensed a bit more, causing every muscle fiber to harden to steel, giving his body a sheen. I don’t think I was able to blink for over a minute. “May I move now, Mike?” Mason’s voice shocked me to the present. I managed to nod. He relaxed his flex and sat down next to me, putting his massive arm around me, pulling me to the cavern that was formed by his chest, lats and arm. “I am grateful that you found my vessel, Mike. I have never had a master that wanted me as a friend, like you. It is a very rewarding experience. You have opened my being to new experiences, given me new levels of awareness, released….feelings. I don’t believe I’ve had feelings before. I wish you would help me understand them,… friend.” He sounded like a confused teenager, genuinely asking for my help. “Of course, my Master,” I said, reversing roles. “That’s what friends are for.” *******************************
  18. Work had shifted me over to working until late at night so I've had to start working out late at night. I am usually one of the only people there but recently a guy who I remember seeing there during the day is working out when I do; thing is he has grown fucking massive! He has had to of doubled in size since I last saw him some weeks prior. My first thought, asides from envy and lust, was "Oh Lord, here we go again". Rumors had started that the gym owner will make some patrons into his...pet projects if you will, these guys would somehow blow up size and eventually just disappear. No one knew what the hell happened or where they went but we were willing to bet that the owner has a connection with a certain supplement company that has been making waves in the market with products that worked wonders, a little too well at that. I came into the gym one night to start up one hell of a back workout (gotta hit that new deadlift PR right?) when who do I see but the man in action at the leg press! There he is wearing nothing more than a wife beater, tights, and a pair of those Otomix shoes the pros and power lifters wear. I'm transfixed staring at him pressing a max loaded sled grunting as his spandex-clad legs piston through the motion while he grunts with each rep. Once I saw what he had between his legs fighting for space in a way that can only be described as grotesque I tripped over my own feet. With one last grunt he finished his set and looked at me on the ground blushing in embarrassment as I tried, and failed, to pretend nothing happened. Swiftly I got up and went to the other side of the gym to start doing some pull ups making sure not to meet his gaze the whole time. As I continued my workout I could hear his rhythmic grunting and heavy foot falls as he came went from exercise to exercise. I was in the corner of the gym resting between deadlift sets when he took the squat rack right next to me racking up hundred pound plat after hundred pound plate. After I stopped gawking I noticed he put the exact weight I was deadlifting onto the bar, I looked at his reflection in the mirror and met his gaze when he started his set. He did 20 reps with perfect form and no signs of effort as he didn't break eye contact the entire set. My new personal best of a single deadlift at 600lbs felt like I may as well have lifted a tenth of that. I couldn't help myself as a nice sized tent sprouted in my shorts which he noticed and gave me a smirk before doing another set of 20 reps. I took my time to calm down and resume my workout doing my best to ignore him as he kept squatting and adding yet more plates with little more exertion every set. He soon had the bar maxed out with hundred pound plates and seemed to be either waiting for something or possibly taking a break before resumed. I sat down on a nearby bench to rest briefly after putting my weights away when he quickly took his spot back and resumed squatting. I had a front row seat to watch as he slowly and easily squatted down nearly till his ass touched the ground and stood up grunting under the exertion and displaying his prowess. His ass looked two basketballs cut in half stuffed into blue spandex, balls bigger than any NBA player could hope to hold without two hands cupping their massiveness. As he squatted down I got so hard that I couldn't tell what had more blood in it, my entire body after a grueling deadlift personal record or my dick. He did a full ten reps with a familiarity like meeting a lifelong friend before he reracked the weights with a very loud and echoing thud, further driving home how empty the gym was with only the two of us there. He turned around and sauntered/waddled toward my slack jawed self. His legs were so pumped they looked like a chart of the human circulatory system through his leggings; but what drew my attention the most was the mass at eye level that was not dissimilar to a fruit arrangement with two grapefruits and a thick bottle gourd but with angry thick veins everywhere. As it throbbed and pulsed with a large wet spot forming on the tip I heard him speak for the first time tonight. "Hey, my eyes are up here mate.” he said with a voice as deep and gravely as a mountain slide, "Can you do me a favor bud and rerack my weights? I got something I need to take care of as you can see." He chuckled to himself as he gave his dick a squeeze eliciting a groan from the both of us and made the wet spot on his spandex expand further. I nodded as he put a very heavy and calloused hand on my shoulder. "Thanks a lot man, nice work on the deadlifts bud." He took his hand off my shoulder to close my mouth which I hadn't noticed was still open as I stared in disbelief. He winked at me as he waddled away. I felt like I was about to cum then and there as he slowly made his way to the locker room taking enough time to make sure he had my undivided attention. I awkwardly stood up as my dick was so hard it hurt now and put his weights away. I just couldn't help myself to do what he asked and someone has to do it right? I spent the next few minutes stretching with my erection refusing to get less hard before I headed to the locker room as well. I was debating if he was coming onto me, toying with me, or just got off on showing his power when I heard the telltale wet noises of flesh on flesh and a very deep grunting coming from the stalls. I cautiously made my way towards the restroom trying my damnedest to not make my presence known when he started to moan loader. As I rounded the corner I could see his shoes in the stall closest to the door as he let out one last booming grunt. It took me a second to realize what happened as he came until I looked towards the ceiling; with an extremely percussive thwack he was hitting the ceiling tiles with such force to push them upwards. After what felt like a good two minutes his orgasm finally died down as he went from hitting the new hole in the ceiling, to over the stall door with a perfect arc to the mirror across the room, until finally it was contained in his stall. As my head was swimming in the miasma of his musk and the unadulterated rank smell of pure sex he let out a loud FUCK! His feet were shifting and I noticed that strips of cloth were falling down to the ground, it took me a second to make the connection it was the remains of his wife beater. He continued to curse to himself with each word being muttered in a deeper voice while he stood up and, what I can only assume to be, struggled to pull his tights back up. I quietly slipped outside of the locker room before he could notice and waited until I heard his stall door to open before reentering, pretending I hadn't heard or seen anything. I went to my locker to rifle through my belongings as I built up the courage to say something, anything to him. As I was feigning interest at my gym bag I heard an extremely loud thunk coming from the weight scale, I turned around to see that he set it to max weight but with only one leg and part of his body weight had exceeded the limits of the now meager scale. After this sunk in I finally took notice of him. He had grown, substantially, to the point that he far eclipsed the man who I saw in the gym earlier. His shoulders had grown so wide that even a set of double doors would soon give him issues. His thick neck had lost the lost not only the battle but the war to his encroaching traps that were now threatening to swallow his head. His back could rival the moon in its ability to eclipse the sun, thick enough that his arms were forced up further into the air. His arms, even at rest, were much thicker than either of our heads. Miraculously his leggings had somehow managed to not explode off of his legs that were now so massive he had to change his stance like he was straddling a Clydesdale stallion, and yet his calves were still grazing each other as he stood up straight. What both impressed and terrified me the most was that despite his immensity I could clearly see, with him standing the other direction, a few inches of his dick that was threatening to rip upwards through his leggings that are absolutely struggling to keep the monster caged. He finally took notice of my meager presence, meager only while compared to him as otherwise my 6' 260lb frame would by no means be deigned as such. "Jeff right?" He inquired in a voice like the oncoming of a storm. "Yes actually, though I never got your name" I responded with my voice cracking in a combination of fear, lust, and awe. "I'm Ian." He replied with a hungry tone, "Would you mind helping me scrub my back in the shower? I seem to be having issues reaching it at the moment." He chuckled at his joke as he finally turned away from the weight scale he had been staring down. I couldn't help but gasp as I saw him from the front after his recent changes. A chest so thick that light could not escape its crevices; his nipples were nearly forced into hiding as they pointed down towards the ground and his abs which looked like a vest network of deep canyons with 10 peaks. His ass was so thick that not even his quads could hide it as you could see the curves of it from his front. To top it all off was a bulge in the front nearing the size of a medium pumpkin holding his angry, veiny, throbbing nuts. His dick, which at this point was both longer and thicker than my own heavily worked forearms, was steadily dripping precum through his straining tights. I have to admit I'm it proud of it, though I dare you to do better in my situation, but I came right then and there. I had always been the bigger man in my relationships, I was rarely outsized in my day to day interactions, but to come face to face with so much...man was too much for me. A man who, with a conservative estimate, was well over twice my size yet only an inch or two taller released a flood gate from within me that seemed like it wouldn't stop nor did I want it to either. He waddled over to me and put hands that could easily envelop my thick shoulders to support me. "Whoa there Jeff, I take it you like what you see eh?" He said while laughing. My dick gave an appreciative spurt as my orgasm started to end. "Guess you need a shower too now don't you bud?" He chortled. I numbly nodded my head while drinking in how close I was to this demigod. As he kicked off his shoes he instructed me to go ahead and strip then head towards the shower with him. He waddled away slowly taking every step deliberately while flexing his legs and ass as I took off my sweaty cum drenched clothing as if my life depended on it. I caught up with Ian in the room before the showers which had a large mirror and counter spanning the length of the wall. Ian was performing pose after pose with a combination of both worry and pride. While still looking into the mirror he met my gaze mid side bicep pose. "Fuck Jeff that is a nice piece you have their man! Though, not quite nice as mine heh". I couldn't help but blush; imagine a stud like me reduced to blushing like a school girl, as I flexed my 10" dick at him with my golf ball sized testicles bouncing. "Well Ian we can't all be freaks like you can we? What the fuck are you on that is making you grow like this and where the fuck can I get some?" "Never mind that Jeff, have any critiques on my posing stud?" He transition to a most muscular as he said this. A pose had never before lived up to its name until right then. He waddled over to me and flexed his arm which as pumped as it was had to be nearly twice as the size of his head now. "Or would you rather just feel it?" I gulped and slowly put my hand on the fire hot, harder than diamond bicep and came all over his leggings and stomach. Ian started laughing as he stopped flexing his arm, his dick now drooling a steady amount of pre through his tights, and swapped back to a most muscular. All the veins on his body were in stark relief as his head was being consumed by his chest and shoulders mid flex. "You do know you're going to have to clean that up right?" He said as he stopped flexing and stood up straight. I finally ended my second orgasm within a few minutes of each other as he stared into my soul. He started bouncing his pecs which at the point was akin to a devastating earthquake with his mass. I reached out and placed my hand firmly on his chest as he was doing this. Ian's dick throbbed and let loose another salvo of pre as he kept bouncing his chest with my hand firmly on it. I slowly brought my hand down his chest committing every part of it to memory for future alone time material. I got near his nipple and gave it a nice hard squeeze not realizing what hell would break loose. Simultaneously a few things happened. 1) Ian's eyes bugged out as he let out a combination yell/moan. 2) His knees started to buckle as he leaned forward putting enough weight on me for support that it made me worry that my own strength was being put to the ultimate test. 3) His dick throbbed torturously as he came with such force that despite his leggings it rebounded onto my legs from the wall a few feet away from us to the point it stung. 4) As he was thrusting his hips like a man in a seizure he grew, God did he grow. Ian bellowed out a very drawn out and angry FUCK as he curled his toes as if he was trying to claw into the earth. While mumbling/moaning incoherently he drew me into a bear hug to support his still thrusting and cumming self. He was radiating heat to the point I worried I was going to be burned as he inexplicably ab fucked my dick with his thrusts. I couldn't breath and when I could all I drew in was more of his heady musk. I joined him in my third orgasm in less than twenty minutes making an even worse mess over his stomach. After what felt like a sweaty crushing eternity he finally dropped me to the ground. I looked up but could only see his immense bulge and chest, his face long hidden by the two. "God fucking damn it!" He roared as he awkwardly waddled to the mirror. I stood up as he was examined himself with a mixture of expletives and curses at me and his luck. His arms were nearly locked into place at a 70° angle, each nearly as thick as my chest. Ian grunted in pain as he vainly grabbed towards his tights that somehow had still not burst off of his indescribable bulk, I really need to write a glowing review for the company that made them. I noticed his source of discomfort; his tights were now past skin tight and were digging deep into his rock hard flesh. Through a hole which had torn open on the back side I not only found out he chose to go commando tonight but got a full on view of his shaved hole. I stepped closer to Ian as he awkwardly tried to maneuver his bulk to a point where he could grab his tights and either take or rip them off. Defying logic he somehow gained purchase while awkwardly bending down as much as his body would now allow. As he got his leggings down to his knees he thrust backward with enough force to impale himself half way onto my 10" dick much to my delight and his horror. "JEFF WHAT THE FUCK MAN!?!" Ian screamed as he instinctively both clenched and stood up with enough force to bring me with him. With me still half way into his medicine ball sized cheeks Ian struggled to reach me but his new bulk interfered with his every movement. "Jeff get the fuck out of-" I couldn't help myself as I buried myself to the hilt. Ian let out a deep and angry moan as I started to thrust. "Jeff you mother fucker, when I get my hands onto you I'll show you how a real man does it you bitch!" I responded by pulling out to the tip of my head and slamming down to my bush as hard as I could, repeatedly. Though I couldn't see it, Ian's eyes rolled back up into his head as he bent forward trying to get support on the counter despite himself. As I kept deep dicking the big bitch I heard the telltale heavy sound of flesh hitting flesh as his massive dick was forcibly hitting the middle of his chest in rhythm to my thrusts. I couldn't see Ian's face, or anything in asides from his back for that matter due to it taking up my entire field of vision, but I could imagine what his sweaty face looked like as he became the bottom I fucking was making him. Eventually I no longer heard the sound of his dick bouncing off his chest but heard a gulping noise as Ian started to suck his down his own cock. Apparently he was too much man even for himself as I heard him gag every time I thrust forward and drove his dick further down his throat. Ian soon started to clench his massive ass and flexed it as hard as he could which I can only assume meant he was close to cumming, but then again so was I. Even with all of his strength he wasn't able to stop me completely as I redoubled my efforts on him. Soon I heard Ian swallowing as he started to grunt in worry and confusion as he came down his throat which began his next round of growth. His rhythmic clenching and vice like grip spurned me into cumming as well as keeping me inside him despite his wishes. Ian was forced to stand up as his arms were raised to parallel of the ground by his ballooning chest and widening back. His head was locked into place by his shoulders and chest as his dick kept up with his growing muscle at a neck break speed. Ian could see each volley travel up the multiple feet of his dick which was quite firmly stuck in his mouth. He was forced to swallow more and more as his balls tensed up and then expanded lower with each blast. Ian attempted to turn around and dislodge both me from his rear and his own convulsing dick from his mouth but was immediately tripped by his tights still wrapped around his knees. We both fell to the ground with a noise that echoed through the entire building, I was violently driven forward until I was fully impaling Ian's still bucking ass. I put my hands on his back, the only thing I could reach now to stabilize myself, as I emptied my soul into his innards. The fall finally dislodged Ian's angry dick from his mouth which continued to expel everything it had into the next room. I soon stopped my fourth outburst of the night and slowly disentangled myself from Ian. He was still cumming and growing but was finally tapering off as I stood up. I saw the mess I made leaking out of his cavernous ass crack onto his legs which were now thick enough that the only space between them was a small area where the knees met. Ian was still humping, as well as he could in his situation, with his tights now around his ankles just above his kicking socked feet. (I REALLY need to invest in a pair of those). I made my way to his front relishing every second of his size and the afterglow of the best sex I'm sure either of us have ever had. As I finally got to his head he let out one last volley a good foot out of his dick and slowly stopped growing. Ian was now so large that every limb was locked in stasis. He wasn't going to be leaving the building let alone moving without a great deal of assistance now. I can only guess that his drinking his own cum made the growth affect him so much more this time. I grabbed Ian's head by his hair at least as much as his neck and traps would allow me to. His cum covered face was barely coherent after his ordeal. I bent down and gave him a deep kiss before licking off all the cum left over from his face. A few seconds later my dick let out my fifth, and most massive, orgasm of the night all over Ian's head as I gained approximately 10lbs of muscle and 2" to my jumping cock. As I came off my growth high (God and that's only a fraction of what he felt and gained!) I asked Ian a few questions. Who was your supplier and who do you want me to get to help you? Both answers were Mike the gym owner, just like I thought. Do you have any more left? His locker was his response; I looked over into the lock room with the only door open asides from mine which had his gym bag poking out of it. With a smile I dropped his head which slumped back down onto his still hard and leaking dick. I made my way over to his locker and found both his cell phone and the mystery supplement. As I read the instructions, to avoid becoming just like Ian, I texted Mike from Ian's cell phone. I gave myself my first dose of the supplement, and new life, and felt even more exhilarated and energetic. I'm going to go do one hell of a fucking work out until Mike shows up at opening in a few hours, but for now I think Ian is ready for round two. I know I fucking am.
  19. arpeejay

    Manzeum (Part 7)

    By Richard Jasper Part 7 Part 6 can be found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15442-manzeum-part-6/ In the 4th week, Roger had gained an average of 6 ½ pounds of muscle per day. Three days into the 5th week, Kevin pulled him into his office. “I think you’re growing faster than ever,” he said, pointing to the bariatric scale he kept there. “Hop on.” Roger did and the numbers flashed and flickered before they finally stopped. 345. “That can’t be right,” Roger said. “That’s as much as I gained in the first two weeks of the study!” Kevin motioned Roger to take off his shirt and join him front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror that lined one wall of his office. “You don’t believe the scale,” he said. “How about the mirror?” At 245 lbs. of solid, competition quality muscle, Kevin was rightly regarded as a “big dude.” And next to Roger, the new Roger, he looked like a little girl. “Let’s get out the tap measure,” Kevin suggested. Chest: 69 inches Biceps: 29 inches “You’ve added four inches to your chest and two inches to each of your arms in three days,” Kevin pointed out. “Do you believe it now?” Roger just shook his head. “At the rate I’m going…” he started… Kevin did some quick math in his head. “Another 10 days in the study? At this rate you’ll be about 425 when it ends.” Roger was rock hard. Kevin was rock hard. “Do you want to fuck me now or after you work out?” “Uh…” “Actually, that’s not a question, Big Daddy,” Kevin continued. “Fuck me now!” He ripped off his shorts and leapt onto Roger, wrapping his big arms around Roger’s 28-inch neck and his legs around Roger’s ripped-to-shreds 35-inch waist. Roger pushed his shorts down and started air-fucking Kevin then and there. “I hope you locked the door,” he whispered. Between gasps, Kevin replied. “It…locks…automatically!” +++ Dr. Peterson was upset. “Mr. Funderburk,” she said. “This has gone far enough.” It was time for Roger’s sixth and final shot but the endocrinologist wasn’t having it. “You’re 375 lbs.,” she said. “This CANNOT be good for you!” Roger worked on keeping his voice calm. It had dropped another octave over the past week and as someone who had always had a gay-accented tenor it was taking some getting used to. People reacted differently when you sounded like James Earl Jones! “Dr. Peterson, I know my growth has been unusual but you keep telling me that my blood sugar, my cholesterol, my blood pressure, are all consistent with those of an athlete in his early 30s,” Roger pointed out. “How can it NOT be good for me?” But Peterson was adamant. “I would like to see you again in a month,” she said. “If no untoward changes have occurred, we can talk about whether it’s appropriate to go forward.” Roger didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as he headed back to the gym. “She cut me off,” he told Kevin when he got there. Kevin looked the Big Man up and down. “Are you sure that’s a bad thing?” he asked. “You’re as big as a house and these days you look like my YOUNGER brother.” Roger pulled off his shirt and posed. 375 lbs. of solid muscle and a rich, luxuriant coat of brown-block curls that did nothing to hide the muscularity of his torso, legs and arms. For a musclebear lover like Kevin, he was a walking wet dream, with a 75-inch chest and 32-inch biceps. Plus there’s the foot-long dick, he said to himself. The ridiculously THICK foot-long dick! “Seriously,” Kevin continued. “There’s not a bodybuilder on Earth with your proportions. There are some bigger guys out there but none as built as you are. And some that are better conditioned but nowhere within a lightyear of your size. And with a fuck pole like that you ought to be doing porn. How much more do you need?” Roger growled. Any more that was an intimidating sound. “But I want more,” he said. “I don’t know why I know it but I know I’m destined for more.” Just then, Kevin’s phone buzzed. It was the front desk. “Someone to see YOU actually,” Kevin said. “From the clinic.” Roger’s ears poked up. “Really? Well, well,” he said. “Let ‘em in!” It was Alan, the hunky young African American bear nurse from Peterson’s office. A visibly NERVOUS, Alan, in fact, with a backpack slung over his broad beefy shoulders. His hands were trembling and his brow was sweaty. Roger’s reaction was instinctive. “C’mere, boy,” he said, gathering the young man in his giant arms. “Whatever it is, it’s OK.” Alan’s nose was buried in Roger’s massive hairy pecs. “Uh, Mr. Funderburk,” he said, speaking into Roger’s chest. “There’s something I need to tell you.” Roger let go and Alan collected himself. Before he could start, Roger put his calloused meat hooks on Alan’s shoulders. “And let’s drop the Mr. Funderburk stuff, OK? It’s just ‘Roger.’” Alan adjusted his pants. “I know Dr. Peterson wanted to put the study on hold,” Alan said. “But I had already prepped the dose. And I brought it with me.” Roger’s jaw dropped. “But but but….” He began. Kevin, who hadn’t been rendered speechless, picked up the thread: “But won’t you get into trouble? As in, serious, possibly permanent trouble?” Alan nodded. “Quite possibly, although, uh, well, I fiddled with the records,” he confessed. “As far as the system is concerned, this dose doesn’t exist.” Roger leaned over Kevin’s desk and dropped his shorts, exposing his beach-ball sized granite hairy glutes. “Then let’s have at it!” He didn’t have to ask twice. Alan pulled out an alcohol swabbed, wiped down the target, and plunged the syringe to the hilt. “That was fucking hot,” Kevin observed, casually massaging the log in his shorts. Roger turned and beamed at Alan. The young man – he looked like Donald Glover’s bigger, beefier, baby brother -- dropped to his knees when he saw the bulge in Roger’s gym shorts. “Please, sir, can I…?” Roger cupped the young man’s beautiful face in this hubcap-sized hands and pulled him to his feet, whereupon he gave him a deep, passionate kiss on his lovely lips. “I can’t thank you enough,” Roger said. Alan just stood there, eyes-closed, sighing. “I can think of one or two things that might suffice,” Kevin pointed out. Alan’s eyes flew open. “But maybe we should ask Alan first?” The Conclusion and an Epilogue can be found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15458-manzeum-conclusion-epilogue/
  20. arpeejay

    Manzeum

    By Richard Jasper Part 1 “Mr. Funderburk, I would like to try you on a new medication.” Elizabeth Peterson, M.D., was Roger Funderburk’s latest endocrinologist. A pretty young thing (well, early 30s but compared to Roger’s late 50s that was a “young’un” in his estimation) in a geeky sort of way. The wavy brown hair, the porcelain complexion, and light blue eyes more than compensated for the lab coat and the thick glasses. Not that Roger was one to judge – he was gay as a goose! But Dr. Peterson reminded him of his beloved nieces, Amy and Erin, and that was enough to seal the deal. “This particular medication is very new but it has shown very good results in lowering overall blood sugar, especially with respect to post-meal peaks,” Peterson continued. “It’s a bit different in that it’s a testosterone derivative, so it’s really only applicable to male patients.” Roger was intrigued. At 58, he was more than a decade past his diagnosis of Type 2 Diabetes Mellitus and still struggling to find a diet / exercise combo that would get his glucose levels into a decent range. Thus far, everything he’d tried had had completely random results. It didn’t help that, as was the case with most men over 40, Roger’s testosterone was on the low end of normal. His difficulty in getting to the gym was exacerbated by a feeling of diminishing returns. Strength levels, muscle mass, all of it on a downhill slope. And at this point I’m closer to 75 than I am 40, Roger thought to himself. “Sounds intriguing,” Roger blurted, coming out of his reverie with a start. “What about side effects?” Peterson pursed her lips. “Well, believe it or not, patients tend not to lose any weight. On the other hand, they do show a decrease in adipose fat and an increase in lean muscle mass.” Roger grinned. “That’s the only downside?” At 5’10 and 220 lbs. Roger had broad shoulders, a thick chest, beefy arms, and impressive legs for someone his age. He’d spent enough years in the weight room to build an OK bod, sort of an offseason pocket linebacker look, but any more in addition to everything sagging, there was a nicely rounded tummy to go along with it, a side-effect of age and the multiple medications he took to control T2DM. “Uh, well, to tell you the truth, there have been some cases of actual weight gain, in the neighborhood of 5-10 lbs. We can’t really explain it but if anything the glucose and serum cholesterol numbers for these individuals look even better than the typical results,” Peterson, shrugging her shoulders. Clearing her throat, she continued. “And, uh, well, in these individuals there have also been increases in libido and, uh, even hirsuteness.” Roger gaped. “I think I can live with those side-effects, if they should appear,” he reassured Dr. Peterson. “How do we proceed?” Peterson smiled. “I’m so glad to hear that you’re willing to give this a try, Mr. Funderburk. You’ll be my first patient to do so,” she said. “The protocol involves a once-a-week injection for six weeks. After the six-week period is completed, we will assess the results and determine whether to continue with bi-weekly or in some cases monthly injections.” Roger pondered. “Once a week for six weeks I can manage,” he pointed out. “But every other week seems like a big commitment. I do travel a lot, you know.” Three years previously, at age 55, Roger had taken a very generous “retirement” buyout from an internationally known financial services company that was undergoing a restructuring. He had enough to live comfortably and travel frequently for the next 40 years, although thanks to the T2DM he seriously doubted he’d be around anywhere near that long. “Oh, I was forgetting,” Dr. Peterson explained. “The bi-weekly or monthly injections are self-administered. It comes with a pen like you use with Lantus or Humalog.” Roger gave Dr. Peterson a wry smile. “In that case, count me in! My next trip isn’t until the end of October so plenty of time to get started with this and establish a routine!” Peterson gave him two thumbs up. “I think you’re going to be pleased,” she said, glad to have an opportunity to try out this new product. Some of the whispers had seemed far-fetched. Now she would have a chance to observe the results first-hand. “I’ll have Melanie come in to administer the injection.” Peterson exited and five minutes later the RN, Melanie, arrived with a tray and an innocuous looking hypodermic. “In the buttock?” he asked and Melanie nodded. So he turned, dropped his Brooks Brothers khaki shorts, and slid his Calvin Klein boxer briefs down a few inches. “A little pinch,” Melanie said. It took a bit longer than Roger expected but the pinch was nearly non-existent and as the medicine entered his system he felt a warm glow expanding outwards from the injection site. “You may feel slightly flushed but nothing to worry about,” Melanie explained. “If you still feel flushed tomorrow morning, give us a call.” And that was that. Heading away from the clinic in his Audi convertible, Roger impulsively made a right instead of a left. He always kept a gym bag in his car, even though most of the time he didn’t use it. Today, though, the warm glow of the injection seemed to be telling him, “Let’s see how long you can keep this going!” Roger flipped on the radio. I had a dream so big and loud, I jumped so high I touched the clouds, Woah-oh-oh Oh-oh-oh He smiled and started singing along. “This is gonna be the best day of my life…” Part 2 is here... https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10930-manzeum-part-2/
  21. Tattcub

    Priapus Pictures

    Hi All, This is a story that was inspired and given permission to play in by one of my fave authors Absman420 Anyway I hope you enjoy it Parts 1 to 5 Have fun TC I work for a guy named Saul Bennett. He’s sort of a modern-day porn maven. Lots of money, loads of girls and guys. No morals. I work for him because I have no choice. (more on this later) I don’t think anyone here does except maybe the guy who does all his hocus pocus for him. He’s one scary bastard. Here’s a story about one of the guys who got in his way. It wasn’t long after Saul had fired Mick Masterson, he had been a real top dollar star for Bennett till like all things Mick’s body had started to go south on him. Nothing major as the guy still had fans and his bod was still great just his age. That was Saul’s excuse anyway. I heard him say it was because he’d fallen in love with some guy, pretty bodybuilder type and Saul didn’t like split loyalties. Anyway, on with the story… James Fraser is or should I was an entertainment lawyer working out of west Hollywood. He was the guy who did contracts for studios big and small tying their actors up in red tape, so the studios got their monies worth. Except James was a rare type. He actually cared about his clients, so he had a specialisation that was more about helping the actors get out of their deals with the big sharks who own these studios. For example, his most recent case was against one Saul Bennett and his studio Priapus Pictures. This guy came to James about a contract he had signed some time back with Priapus and wanted out. His partner had just died and he just didn’t have the heart to carry on in the industry any more. Bennett refused to cancel his contract even though the guy was happy to pay any penalty fee for doing so. So, the client came to James and asked for representation “James, your 2-o clock is here.” Said his assistant Diane as James re-entered his office after his lunch with another client. “Thanks Di. “said the 33-year lawyer smiling as he took his jacket off and threw it over the chair in the outer room. He was a good-looking man standing about 5 ft 9 tall. He had dark hair cut short on the back and side and had twinkling green eyes that always seemed ready to smile. His taut athletic body was a good swimmers build from many hours in the pool at his apartment building and light gym three times a week. He was well liked by the entire company, always willing to help out and fight for any underdog cause that took his mind. He was a good man. He opened the door to his office and went in to greet his client Manuel Cortez. Manny to his friends. Manny stood and shook hands with him. “Hi James or is it Jim?” Said Manny smiling nervously as he stood to greet the lawyer. “Please, please sit and it’s James.” Said the lawyer smiling. “My dad was Jim or Big Jim as everyone called him.” Said James as he made himself comfortable at his desk and reached for the clients file. Manny nodded in acknowledgement and said ” So, any news on my case?” James looked at the last page on the file which contained a vitriolic letter from Bennett’s team about what Manny and James could do with their suit. It was pretty much a good luck and see you in court letter. James explained this to Manny and the he just sat there and hung his head. When he raised it again to look at James he had tears in his eyes. “I can’t do this James, not any more. The things that he gets us to do.” Said the crying man. “It’s not that I think they’re disgusting, it’s not that at all. I’m a gay man and gay sex and experimentation is fine. I’m even fine with gay does straight. It all pays the bills doesn’t it and I like the sex. It’s none of that. It’s the fact we have no choice about what scenes we do. I’m pretty easy going and my partner used to just say go with the flow as we were both earning well out of it. Now he’s gone I just don’t feel it any more. “Manny wiped a tear from his eye as he talked. “When I said he gives us no choice I meant it.” He paused for moment to catch his breath. “When we’re on set something seems to come over the cast. No of us ever seem to argue with the directors on set. Ever. Something’s going on and it’s scaring the shit out of me. I don’t want to be there. Since Rico died It’s like veil was lifted from me. We were a great duo, did loads of pics together and we loved doing them. We never questioned Saul’s methods because times were good and if I’m honest we were pretty high most of the time too. Saul provided all those sweeties too. Said he had his own alchemist as he called his dealer I think. I think there was more than dope and china in that mix because we all just toed the line you know ?” Finally stopping and taking a drink from his water glass. He looked over at James to see how he was reacting from his total honesty about this situation. James sat there for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Are you saying that Bennett actually forced you all into sexual acts and drug taking ?” he said “No, it’s not like that it’s more that he gave this stuff away for free and we didn’t even think to object to any of it.” Said Manny. “It’s only now that I haven’t been on set in a couple of months that I am finally clear headed. There worst thing was I didn’t touch any of that shit to start with. I was so nervous in the beginning I could only drink water on set.” He finished. “Look, Manny this could be a criminal case too if Bennett can be proven to be a dealer or that he is somehow forcing you all to work against your wills.” He Stood up from his desk and closed the file. “I think I should meet Mr Saul Bennett for myself and see what’s going on at Priapus Pictures.” Manny stood too. “Look man, please be careful. This man is dangerous and has a lot of power in this town. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you for getting involved.” “Don’t worry about me Manny.” Said the lawyer reassuringly. “I’ve dealt with guys like this before. I have my own contacts in this town too.” They shook hands and Manuel left the office. Turning and nodding his thanks before he closed the door. James picked up his mobile and dialled his wife “Hi Hun, really sorry I think I’m going to be late home tonight. Yeah…. A new case…..Don’t worry I’ll send out for something. Okay…bye…Love you too. So James had a plan, of sorts. He needed to rattle this guy, to get him out in the open and to make a mistake somewhere. A mistake that he, James could capture and exploit. He picked up his phone again. He had just the guy he could use for this job. “Hey Max.” He said smiling. “I’ve got a job for you bro are you up for it?” He asked. “Ever heard of a guy called Saul Bennett? His company Priapus Pictures?” “Yeah, that’s him.” He said to his long-time friend Maxwell Calder. Max was a private detective and old friend of James’ from way back in their college days. “I need you to do me a favour. Do you still do undercover shit ? I know you still love that James Bond stuff.” Said James smiling as he remembered his friends first forays into the field as an eager much younger man. “Well, we should meet up and talk. Lunch tomorrow? At Deano’s ? Yeah..Haha…” He laughed at his friends “Where else?” Comment . “Okay buddy. Yup, about 1.30 ?” He hung up. James looked back at the file on his desk. He had a few other calls to make. Insurance was always a great idea in this town. L.A. was not forgiving on the careless or the over eager. He had a long night ahead. He picked up his phone once more and dialled. It took a moment or two to answer. “Mz D.” He said to the feminine voice that answered. “Good to speak to you.” “Why James. “Said the throaty voice at the other end of the line. “It has been a while. It could be said that you have been remiss in your attentions.” She chided gently. “Awww Mz D. You know you truly are the only woman for me.” Said James smiling as he reacquainted himself with the accent and manners of the lady on the line. One who also had very, singular talents. One’s that he, James felt were going to be needed sometime very soon. James sat back in his chair and turned to look out at the skyline onto L.A. and its sunset of promises, promises that all to often turned out to be smoke and mirrors. Well, maybe not this time. With any luck. “I need a favour sweet lady.” Said the lawyer. MAX. Maxwell Calder was a a private detective in Lala land. He looked at his file on Priapus and Bennett and wasn’t surprised by what he read there. He’d been through several of these joints in his years investigating Los Angeles seedier side. He was still young enough at 35 to still be open minded and old enough to not be surprised any more. He’d done his background checks with his various contacts and knew for damn sure that Bennett was dirty and had his fingers in many, many pies. Porn, mainstream and “other.” Every form of fornication and filth was bread and butter to this guy and he’d made a fortune from it. James and by extension Manny James’ client had warned him to be careful as Bennett was well known to be resourceful and unforgiving of betrayal. Max had decided to go in undercover on a low-level crew type security or roady type, etc. You know the drill, the polite escorting of over eager fans from sets etc or the occasional diverting of a loved one/ partner away from the stars dressing rooms when they were “resting” or otherwise engaged. Purgatory were big enough that they recruited regularly, and this industry was full of people trying to “break into the biz.” He managed to get himself on a crew doing general security for a new movie that had the working title of New Fish. This was a prison scene in a mock up studio version of a prison block. It was going to be one of those gang bang movies. Max wasn’t gay himself but the thought of seeing a room full of guys wasn’t totally his thing. However he was professional and had no issues with gay guys at all so it wasn’t a problem. He was due to start at the studio at 7am the next day in a studio lot in some warehouse district somewhere. Knowing what this Bennett was like meant Max wasn’t going to go in wired or carrying a camera. He just had a mobile phone that took good pics and also recorded sound a lot longer than most of the other phones of it’s type. He picked up the phone and called James. “Hey buddy, it’s me.” Said the detective. “Yeah, all sorted. Job starts tomorrow. Aha…Yeah low level security/go-fer sort of thing.” “Ha ha…Very funny. I did it for you in college didn’t I why wouldn’t I run around for others for the job ?” he said smiling at his friends comments on the line. “Listen, if we start this we have to see it through. This guy has power and contacts. You know how much that’s worth in L.A. don’t you?” warned Max. “Yeah, I will. You too James. Don’t expect to hear from me for a few days. Speak soon as I can.” He hung up the phone. He looked at himself in the mirror. In looks he had that almost faded Cali surfer look going on. Slightly longer than normal naturally blond hair and clear blue eyes. Gave the impression of blankness which was handy in his business as many people underestimated him. He could turn on the dumb if he wanted to but in this instance, he decided to be a man of few words. He got his gear packed and decided to hit the shower before his job started tomorrow. James had waited about 4 days before picking up the phone and calling Max’s number. As he had expected he got the answer phone. Max always used burner phones when he worked so his real one would be stashed elsewhere for now “Hey, buddy. Just checking in with you. I know you don’t like to break your cover but give me a call when you can. Just looking for a prog rep.” He put the phone back on the desk and started to work on the papers laid out in front of him. He just had a niggling feeling about this gig with Bennett, that it was going to be a lot bigger than he wanted. He leaned to the intercom. “Di could you bring in todays mail and a bottle of water please?” he asked his assistant. She came through the door moments later with a bundle in a tray and a bottle of cool water. “Here you go chief.” She said smiling. James smiled at her. Laughing and shaking his head. “Let me guess, you’re auditioning for a part later ?” he asked. “How did you guess? “ She smiled sassily as she handed him the mail. The top of which was crowned with a brown padded envelope. He took the bundle and the water. “Haha…I dunno, calling me chief was the clue. Reporter maybe?” he said looking up at her with raised eyebrows. “Wow you should have been the P.I. I’ll be gone for a couple of hours but will come back to finish off later if that’s okay ?” she said as she turned to the door. “No, no don’t worry about coming back. “ He told her. “It’s Friday you may as get your weekend on early.” She smiled as she turned. “Thanks chief.” And gave him a mock salute as she went back into the outer office. James looked down at the pile of mail. Looks like his weekend was not going to start early at all. His eyes were drawn to the envelope. It was hand written, badly by the look of it but it was familiar. It was also unstamped which meant it had been hand delivered too. He opened up the packet and found it contained two things. One was a cell phone and the other was a micro SD card. On the phone was stuck a note. PLAY US BOTH TOGETHER. He paused for a moment and looked out into the main office. Diane had gone so he couldn’t ask who had dropped this off. He looked at the phone and switched it on. It didn’t seem to have any service but could still be opened up. He put the SD card into his laptop and scanned it first, just in case. It came up clear. He clicked on the icon for the card when it came up and it came up with one file that read. PLAY ME. He did so and the screen blanked out for a moment and started up a slide show. PRESS PLAY ON THE PHONES SOUND RECORDER NOW. James did so. The voice that came through was disguised. “Mr Fraser, good afternoon. If my calculations are correct you should be receiving this package at sometime around 2 pm on Friday afternoon.” There was a pause and the sound of someone making noise in the background. They sounded angry and sounded if they might be gagged or being stopped from talking. “I believe we have a friend of yours with us. He was found snooping about and before you stop this and call the police I can assure you that by the time the end of this recording has finished you will be aware that your friend Mr Calder is more than happy to be with us.” “In fact you will be the first to witness our latest movie. It’s a prison gang scene about a guy who’s caught undercover by his fellow inmates. “ The screen lit up on the laptop as the slideshow continued. On the screen was a man tied to a chair with his hands behind his back. His face was covered with a towel or something like it. His clothes were rumpled and the sleeve on his shirt was torn and bloody. Two very large muscular men stood either side. One of them was a very well presented man in a prison guards uniform. His hair was very short on the back and side and brushed back 1950’s style. He was very athletic having the look of sportsman or coach in a uniform. He was good looking in a sexy daddy sort of way. Tached and salt and pepper colouring. The guy on the left-hand side was huge and dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit that hand the sleeves cut off. There was no way they would ever have been able to hold the arms that the man had. He looked like he had be hewn rather than born. Grown out of the stone floor he was standing on. His shaved head gleamed in the light of the room, accented with a heavy black goatee beard and pale grey eyes. His arms were folded around his chest and he seemed to unconsciously be flexing them. He was about 6ft and seemed to be staring like his guard companion blankly out of the picture and at James himself. “Mmmmmf….mmm…mmesss.” Said the panicked voice of the person under the towel. “Yes, yes. “ said the dark voice. “Warn him all you like.” It said nonchalantly. “It won’t make any difference.” It paused for a moment. “ Mr Fraser, please be aware if you attempt to contact the police or even stop this recording before we have shown you our work please know that they will find nothing and you will not be seeing your friend Max again.” With that the next picture came up and it was of the guy in the chair and it confirmed James’ suspicion as Max was revealed. His hair was a mess and he has a wild look in his eyes. He looked genuinely afraid. He had a bloodied nose and what seemed to be a black eye. His mouth was gagged with what looked like a rubber ball gag, a standard BDSM toy on a set for a porn film. Max looked out at the camera from the still photo as his voice was heard in the background. “We’re just getting Mr Calder ready for his close up James.” Said the sinister voice as the next picture was of the two large men ripping Max’s shirt off. “First a little, preparation. Hold him.” The next picture flashed up and was of the prison guard injecting Max with something just into his neck while the prisoner bull held him steady. “Mmmmmmm!....Ngghhh…!” James heard Max’s muffled cries…Ove the next few drawn out minutes they got weaker and weaker until he heard a subdued groaning coming from his friends mouth. “Ahh that’s better. Now to work. Max, Max can you hear me ?” Said the man. “Mfff.” Said Max. The next picture flashed up and was of Max staring into the light of the camera with a hooded expression to his eyes. They seemed a little dull, even in the bright light. James rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This bastard had his friend prisoner and was torturing him. “Now, James. Don’t do anything rash.” Said the voice again. “Take a sip of water and calm down. I’ll give you some instructions after this is all over and we’ll try and resolve this situation.” “Now.” Said the stranger. “Where were we? Oh yes. Take the gag off. He shouldn’t be much trouble now.” “Max,MAX…Can you hear me ?” “Huh ?...” said the slurred voice of his friend. “Look at me Max. That’s good. You’re a good boy well done.” “Good booooy…” said his friends voice. It sounded deep and slow. Probably a result of the drug the bastards had given him thought James as he listened horrified and dreaded the next picture. The dark man’s voice continued to talk to Max. “Now Max, in a moment we’ll untie you from the chair and you will continue to sit there. Calm and still, calm and still. Do you understand?” “aarrrm and stiiilll…” came the reply as a new pic appeared. This was of Max. He had been untied and was sat in the chair and was looking up into the camera lens. James saw a little drool dribbling from his bottom lip. “That’s good Max, very good. Now these two men are your friends and you want to help your friends don’t you ?” “Aha..friends.” Max’s voice sounded thick and heavy, almost childish. “Stand up Max and let them help you undress. You’ll be far more comfortable like that trust me.” Max had obviously obeyed as the next picture came up. This time he was just standing there in the room, which did seem like a prison cell. He was stood there naked. The blank expression on his face, the drool and what seemed to be a raging hard on. “Well now, someone’s happy to see his two friends isn’t he?” said the monster on the phone. “They’re happy to see you too. Can you see how happy they are Max ?” he said. James could feel the smirk in the bastards voice. He was enjoying this. James’ mouth was dry. He took another sip of water from the bottle. He didn’t want to continue but had no choice but to listen and watch as his friend was manipulated. “Max, in a moment you will start to feel a little warm and tingly. It’ll feel a bit like when you go to the gym and have a good workout.” “Mmmhhmm.” Said his friend. “You understand ? Good.” Said the man. “You’re going to start to change and I want you to feel and see that it is all normal. This is a good change. You have nothing to fear.” Said the man “Do you understand Max.” he questioned. “No fear.” Said Max’s slow voice. It seemed more sure now but was also somehow deeper than James remembered. “Now I want you to kneel down and show your friends Adam and Rico your appreciation.” Said the man. “You know what to do.” He instructed. “I know…” The next picture flashed up and was off James’ friend of many years. His college buddy was knelt there naked on the floor of this prison cell and had the cocks of the two big muscle men in his mouth. His eyes were wide and staring up at the two men. Slobber and drool from his efforts and the men’s actions were dribbling off his chin. The screen blanked out and there were the sounds of someone giving and being given a blow job. This seemed to go on for a long time and the sounds of passion were punctuated with grunts, the sounds of animal passion. James tried to get the picture out of his head, he didn’t know what to do but couldn’t take his eyes off the screen and couldn’t get the will to switch of the recording either. The sounds of the men’s passions exploding brought James out of his reverie. “Ah…fuck…fuck…fuuuuuck…yeah…Give it to me.” Said Max’s voice. The two mens voices were just grunts. The sound of them cumming, hard was unmistakable. The screen lit up again with Max’s face taking up most of the screen. His sweaty hair was plastered onto his face and his blank eyes stared at the camera in gratitude. On his face was what look like a gallon of cum. It looked like the poor man had been glazed. The screen went dark again. SWITCH OF THE LAPTOP. CONTINIUE TO LISTEN. Instructed the screen. “Do I truly have your attention James ?” Said the creepy man’s smug voice. “Good. If you want to see your friend again and resolve this situation without further, action. Here are your instructions.” James sat in horror and listened to the words. PART 3 “James?” said a faraway voice. “James, are you okay?” It asked. Louder this time. “JAMES!” shouted Diane his assistant. Bringing the lawyer out of his reverie. What had he been….? “Shit” he shouted loudly making Diane’s concerned even more apparent as she touched his shoulder. “Are you okay boss?” She said worriedly, She’d come back to the office after her audition to grab some bits when she saw her boss just staring at the screen on his laptop. Which was weird in itself as the machine had gone into screen saver mode. James seem to be dazed. He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. Trying to bring himself out of his daze. “Sorry Di. Dunno what happened to me there.” He apologised to his worried assistant. “Must have dozed off or something.” He said, not sounding entirely convinced by his own excuse. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She said, making sure. “Yeah, yeah. “ He assured her taking a swig from the now warm water bottle on his desk. “I’m fine. Must be tired or maybe coming down with something.” He stood and straightened his tie. Looking at her with his beautiful green eyes. “Look, you head off home. I’m gonna head that way myself. “he said.” Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine.” He grabbed his jacket and popped his laptop into his bag then opened the office door and wave her out. Diane grabbed her coat and bag from her desk. “As long as you’re sure you’re okay. She said heading out the door. “See you Monday.” He said smiling at her concern re-assuring her he was okay. “Monday.” She said and was gone. James lent against the office door for a moment. His head was clearing. He remembered everything that had happened but had been unable to say a word of it to his friend and assistant. What had Bennett done to him ? How much power did the guy have that he could just get him with some pictures and a recorded voice ? The voice on the line had given him some instructions which he felt compelled to obey but they were vague, almost dreamlike in the exact memory of them. He knew he’d remember only when Bennetts voice wanted him to. He knew his first port of call was the gym where he went every day and often worked out with his old friend Max. Max… “Shit Max!” said James and ran out of the door. 25 minutes later he pulled his car up to the lot behind his gym. This wasn’t an exclusive club or true iron gym it was a mid range place you could find in many towns and cities. It was busy enough not to be isolating to the customer and quiet enough that you could usually get on the machines you wanted to. It was about 4.30 and was beginning to fill with the pre-weekend crowd. The gym was called X-WORKS. He tapped his card as he went in and went into the changing rooms and got changed into his gear. Loose light blue vest and dark blue gym shorts just to above the knee and pale green trainers and sports socks. He wasn’t worried about the whole gym fashion thing. He was looking over the gym floor and trying to decide where to start He went to the stretch mats carrying only his gym towel and a bottle of water. He started to warm up on the mat, slowly stretching his long swimmers muscles. He did a good fifteen minutes warm up and then got up ready to go and went to the cycles for some warm up cardio. As he did his eyes scanned the crowd of Friday nighters that were in the gym. After work dads and moms having their one free hour before the weekend with the kids. Older people walking quickly on the treadmills showing they still got. High schoolers trying to show how much they could lift. A whole mix of people including the pre-club workout crowd trying to get a pump before showing off their glistening bodies to anyone who wanted to gape at them. His eye was caught by one guy. Tall, blond type with blue eyes. This guy could have been a surfer if not for the muscle he carried. This guy was stacked. Must’ve weighed 265 if not at least 270 pounds. This was hard earned muscle, this guy was shredded to perfection, striations and veins cut across all of his major muscle groups his chest, shoulders and arms were covered in thick rope-like veins. His forearms were so thick that James realised he’d been staring at the guy. He looked away before the big man noticed. He went back to cycling and tried to concentrate on the tv screen ahead of him and started pedalling faster and faster. He was in the zone about 10 mins later when he heard a voice close to him over the gym’s loud music. “Hey buddy.” The voice said. “Any chance of helping me with a spot?” The deep voice asked James turned his and slowed his pedalling and there, next to him was the big guy he’d spotted earlier. Closer up he was a magnificent specimen of manehood. James wasn’t gay but given his industry he was open and could still appreciate a male form. This guy was hotness personified. “Can I get a spot?” said the guy in a slow measured tone that seemed to be coming from somewhere deep below the ground. It was that type of voice that when heard managed to get most gay guys and straight woment right in the private parts. You know what I mean ? James stopped pedalling and took the guy in with his eyes. “Yeah, sure thing.” He said. The big guy slapped him on the shoulder and James swore it went all the way through him the the floor. “Thanks buddy, the name’s Mack.” Said the behemoth. “Well Mack.” Said James dismounting from the cycle. “It’s good to meet you. “ He said extended his hand to shake, The big guy stood there a moment and looked at James’ hand as if confused and unsure what to do with it. Then it was as if he was receiving instructions from someone else he laughed. “Aha aha aha!” It was loud and forceful and lacking in any real intelligence. A true Jocks laugh. James groaned inwardly but he’d already agreed so followed the big man to a weight bench lined with free weights. “You can jump in too if you like.” Said Mack “You’ve already done your warmups from what I could see.” “Yeah, sure thing . “ said James. What’re we doing?” he asked the big bodybuilder. “Chest.” Said the huge man. Getting his barbell ready with a warmup weight. As he settled on the bench and set it flat he lay down and looked up at James. “You okay with this weight to start?” “Yup. It’s fine by me.” Said the lawyer. It was a warm-up so he wasn’t worried. The big guy pounded and James pounded out the warmup sets. Slightly increasing the weight each time. James or Mack counting out the others reps and helping at the end as required. Which wasn’t often. James was surprised how much he was enjoying this. He hadn’t worked out with anyone for a while expect with his pal Max…Max…He paused a moment.. Something started to niggle him. “Hey Jimmy you in there?” He felt a light tap on his head as the big guy got up from his last set and pretended to knock on his skull. James came back to himself.”Oh…hi..sorry was miles away.” He said. Where was he again? Oh yeah the gym. “Aha aha aha.” That laugh again. James thought to himself. It was quite appealing rather than annoying. Quite sexy really. He sneaked a glance at the big guy as he turned to alter the weights again. His back was massive. He wore an old school, faded gold, World gym top that had seen a lot of use and what seemed at first glance to be compression shorts. On closer inspection they turned out to be jersey shorts stretched so tight James could see the veins on the man’s thighs and his ass was spectacular. “Good view from back there buddy? “ said Mack. “Oh err..”James would normally be flustered and rather than deny he had just been scoping out the mans ass he said. “Hell yeah.” He blushed and felt awkward in the same way a teenager on their first date feels at kissing time. What was wrong with him? He could feel the small voice in his head saying that this wasn’t him but he also wasn’t really listening. “You’re up Jimmy A bit more weight this time.” Said the beast James meant to tell the guy it was James and not Jimmy but didn’t want to spoil the moment by criticising the guy. He lay on the bench. Mack moved close the head of the bench where James’ head was and lifted the barbell and lowered it to James’ waiting hands. “Don’t forget to breathe Jimmy.” Said Mack smiling as he looked down and stepped closer to the bench and James head. James could just see the guys crotch at the top of his vision and his mouth went dry.” “1-2-3..” counted the big man towering above him. James was enthralled by the play of his own muscles even as he watched the big guy stretch and lift above him. Time seemed to blur. James wasn’t sure whether it had been a minute or an eternity when the set had finished. He felt dizzy for a moment and sat up slowly. “Take it easy buddy.” Said the slow deep voice of his training partner. “Here, take this. You gotta be thirsty.” Said Mack handing him a bottle of unopened water. James looked down to his and realised it was empty. When did he finish…? His chest felt like it was on fire as did his shoulders and arms. He’d only been working chest with this guy hadn’t he ? “Well we’re done for the day.” Said Mack. “Huh…?” said Ji-j-James dully. He was stilled dazed from the workout obviously. “We’ve only just started..” James said. “Dude, we’ve been at it for nearly 3 hours. You said you weren’t into heavy weights as a swimmer or sumthin’ I knew you were a kidder.” Said the behemoth who was now pumped to the Max… Max…Macks.. MAX! For a moment Jimmy looked at the big monster of a man in front of him and thought he knew him from somewhere else. “Max?” He question dully as they walked to the changing room. The big guy turned around and smiled at him. Big, toothy vacuous grin. “I was.” Said Mack. The room was empty apart from the two of them. Mack was ripped and now pumped. He looked like a god stood there in the white light of the changing room. “Until you sent me to meet Saul Bennett.” Said the big, muscular beast of a man. He took off the vest. As he did so all the muscle in his arms and shoulders bunched and flexed and he struggled for a moment to take the shirt off over his huge wing like lats. He laughed at that. That laugh again. For some reason the laugh made James/ Jimmy hard. He felt it in his groin the moment he heard that sound. He could feel his cock begin to stiffen in his shorts…? He looked down and realised he was wearing different clothes from when he’d entered the gym. His gym shorts were now tight under armour compression shorts and his t-shirt had gone replaced by a cut off tank. He couldn’t make out the logo or words on the bright red cutoff for some reason. On his feet were a pair of Nike hi-tops. Bright red to match the shirt. He didn’t notice this difference as he was to enthralled by the man in front of him who had just fished out the biggest cock Ja---Jimmy had ever seen. As he knelt in front of the big man with his mouth salivating he noticed a mirror to the side that showed the both of them. The big muscular man towering above him, Vast shoulder and lats, shoulders more like a range of mountains that held the must unfeasible set of arms Jimmy had ever seen. Massive ledgelike pecks and a thick waist with a slight roid belly look that supported all above. The legs, thigh and calves looked like they’d been hewn rather than grown. Topped off that all over the beautiful tanned body were veins that seemed to show every contour and contrast. Then there was the cock. Mack’s cock was a beast to behold. Thick, almost two hander to hold, about 11 inches long. Mack had pulled back the foreskin and the thick, bloated, purple head of the monster was already leaking with precious juices. Jimmy caught sight of himself. Kneeling there in front of his god, salivating. In his gym gear and wearing a red baseball cap backwards on his head. His blank blue eyes staring at the mirror. Drool starting to drip from the corner of his mouth. His muscles were ridiculous. These were not the beautiful muscle of a cut body builder. Jimmy had the muscle of a laborious beast. He was more massive than the man above him. Crouched as he was he looked more Neanderthal than man. His dark eyes looked dim and his hair was shaggy where it peaked under the cap. His brow was thicker somehow and his eyebrow seemed to almost meet in the middle. His neck was so thick that it and his monstrous traps almost seemed to devour his skull. They were so high at the back. His shoulders and arms were almost grotesque in their massiveness. Veins didn’t just cross his arms they ravaged them. His chest was beyond human and dusted with dark hair. They were almost pendulous in the way they hung there. The big brown nipples pointing to the ground because the pecks were so huge. He couldn’t really see what his legs were like because he was kneeling but could feel the size and thickness of them. It was like they were made from steel. He turned back to the man in front of him and had only one thought in his mind. “JAMES!” said the voice. “JAMES ARE YOU OKAY.” It said again. “FOR FUCKS SAKE JAMES. WAKE UP!” it said again. Jimmy no James looked up. “Diane?” He said confused…. Part 4 James shook his head as his vison cleared. “Phheww!” he sighed and shook his head again. “Are you okay,” said Diane as she leaned over him, still sat in his desk chair. He was at the office. But he’d just been at the gym hadn’t he? His thoughts were so muddled it was taking him a while just to get his mouth working again.” “I’m fine Di.” He said. Reassuring her in a way that he himself didn’t feel. The attractive brunette got a bottle of water from the fridge in the outer office and ran a cloth under the tap in the kitchenette. “Here.” She said in a matronly fashion as she handed him the water and put the cool, damp cloth on his neck where it sat on his hot skin soothingly. “I…I must’ve nodded off.” He said look up at her blearily. His head felt thick, muddy and unclear. He just couldn’t focus properly. “Do you want me to call the doctor?” She asked worried about her friend and boss. “No, no…I’ll be alright. I must be coming down with something.” He said. He did feel sore come to think of it. All over. It was a deep ache, almost gnawing ache. Like hunger but different, darker. He couldn’t think of the words to describe it. “You sure?” she said. “I can cancel my plans and take you home, it’s no biggie. Or I can call your wife to come get you?” “No, it’s fine Di. I’m fine. Feeling much better now.” He said and it was true. AS his senses returned to him he was feeling better, energised in fact. He stood up and removed the towel from his neck handing it back to her. “Thanks.” He said as he started to gather his stuff and pack his bag. Again. Or at least that’s what it felt like, déjà vu. “You go and get on with your weekend.” He said as he all but shooed the woman out of the door smiling at her. “I’ll be fine.” He told her again. “As long as you’re sure. “ She said. She stopped at the door and turned around and put a light hand on his cheek. “You work too hard boss, please take it easy this weekend.” Then she was off out the door and shouted as she went down the corridor. “Call me if you need anything.” And the she was gone. James sat back in the chair heavily for a moment. He could still remember the gym. He could remember everything that happened in vivid detail. He remember Mack and his beautiful face and godlike body looming over him. He could remember how his gym gear pressed up against the thick, thight muscle of his hard steellike body. Veins running over the muscle just under the skin. Thick, rope like and full of pulsing life. Just like Mack’s cock. Oh god the cock. James leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. His breathing started to catch as he remembered the beast between Mack’s legs. Thick and shining. Two hands to hold and dripping with pre-cum. The smell was beyond anything. It was like smelling joy to him. James wanted to run his tongue up and down the monster, he had to. He had to find Mack again. He opened his eyes and realised he was still in the office and he’d just closed his eyes for a second. That was enough for him to re-live that memory and then ejaculate. He’d cum in his trouser. Like a teenager,he thought, now horrified. What the hell was wrong with him ? He’d just had a fantasy about one of his work collegues. No, wait Mack wasn’t a colleguege. Max was. Where was Max ? God he was so confused. He needed to go home and rest. He gathered his gear together, realising his gym bag was still there. He grabbed his laptop and stuffed it on top of the used and sweaty top and shorts. He hadn’t actually been to the gym. Had he? Not trusting himself to drive he went down the stairs after closing the office and hailed a cab. He got in and gave the driver his address and heard a beep from his Wife. Apparently her sister had gone into labour early so she was heading off to the airport so she could be with her family and support her sister. He called her and wish her luck and told her to send his love to his sister in law. He also told he was feeling under the weather so it was just as well that she went as he would be no fun. She gave him her love and told him where he could get some good chicken soup near their home. He smiled and told her he loved her.He put the phone back in his pocket and lay back on the seat of the cab. He closed his eyes for a second just to still his senses. In his mind’s eye all he could see were the massive tree trunk legs of Mack and that monster cock with it’s pendulous balls. “Hey Buddy!” said the driver’s voice. “Whha..” said James opening his eyes and looked around realising he was home. “Oh, right. Sorry.” He apologised as he got out of the cab, he still felt sore and disorientated as he gave the driver the fare telling him to keep the change. He wasn’t sure but he thought he heard the guy say “dumbass” as the cab pulled away at speed. He walked up to the house. There was a light burning in the front room and he heard music playing. His wife had probably left them on so he didn’t feel so lonely coming home to an empty house. They did things like that. He smiled at the kind thought. He opened the door and dumped his bag on the floor just by the coat rack. There was a light classical music playing and room was lit by warm, mellow lights from the various lamps around it. The person standing in the room wasn’t his wife. It was Saul Bennett. He was holding a glass half full of what appeared to be James’ own 25 year scotch. As he walked into the room Bennett raised the glass in a salute and took a sip. “What the hell?” Said James. “Not bad.” Said Bennett savouring the flavour of the alcohol and totally ignoring James indignation. “What are you doing in my house Bennett.” Shouted James. “Get out now before I call the police.” He said angrily. “Now, now James. Don’t lose your pretty head.” Said the monster with a smile. “I just wanted to take a few moments of your time to have a little chat, then I’ll be gone.” James crossed his arms and walked over to the bottle of his whisky and poured himself a good measure. He took a swig. “Then, talk.” He said glaring at the man who had invaded his home. Bennett took another swig of his drink and smiled in much the same way as a crocodile would smile at a fox who’d just ask for a lift across the swamp on it’s back. “Okay then.Talk.” He demanded turning to keep the stare of this man with a confidence he really didn’t feel. “Okay, then.” Said Bennett. “We have a problem.” He said. That smile again. “You are looking into things that really don’t concern you and I’d like you to stop.” Said the businessman. “If you do then I will pay you a fee, call it compensation for having to quit Manny’s case.” Offered Bennett. “No deal.” Said James immediately. “Don’t be so hasty James.” Said Bennett sipping his drink again. “There will be a price to pay if you chose not to take this offer.” He said looking over at the lawyer with something akin to pity. James next instinct was to curl his hands into fist with the intention of punching the sanctimonious pricks teeth down his throat. Fisted clenched at his sides in anger he took two steps forward towards the asshole. “STOP!” The words rang out, not just in his ears but inside his head. It was like a chorus of voices said it at once to him and he could only obey. There was no question of any other type of behaviour. So, he stood there. In silence while this man / monster just looked at him, looked at him as if weighing up what to do with a naughty puppy who has mess the kitchen up while his master’s been at work. “One word James, that’s all that was needed there.” Said Bennett. “That’s just pre-conditioning. You’re in a highly suggestible state right now.” “You have been for some time.” He said. Pretty much since before lunch time when you ask Diane for a bottle of water. James’ eyes widened as he thought back. Then’ he looked to the whisky bottle in alarm. “Yes, that too.” Bennett confirmed. “I have a certain flair with the dramatic don’t you think?” he asked his audience of one. “I’ve actually had my eyes on you for a while.” He sneered at James “You’ve been of little hindrance until recently, until Manny. “He said. “I really don’t like people snooping into my affairs. There tends to be consequences for that.” “Oh, you may speak, don’t strain a blood vessel.” Bennett gave his permission to James. “You fucking freak, how are you doing this ?What have you done with my wife and Diane ?” he shouted. “Do not, above all things, raise your voice to me James.” Said Bennett, dangerously quietly. “I cannot abide rudeness”. He said. “The ladies are fine and will remain that way. If you hear me out. I have some business to discuss with you first.” “Talk, then.” Demanded James still trying to move. “What did I say about rudeness Jim?” asked Bennett “kneel!” demanded the dark, smooth velvet of Bennetts voice. James Obeyed. Without a fight. He had no choice. He had to. Worse, he wanted to. It was a primordial urge, one that he could not even think of fighting. He knelt in front of his captor, head bowed in supplication almost. “What do you want from me?” He said, so quietly it was just a whisper. “That’s easy Jim, Jimmy even.” Said the face that loomed above him. “I want you.” Bennett confirmed what James / Jimmy already knew “As I said we do have business to discuss.” Bennett pressed some button on his phone. “Yes, you may come in now.” James heard the front door opening and senses a large presence behind him. “I believe you’ve met Mack ?” said Saul Bennett. The figure that came in the door and into the light of the living room was huge. It was Jimmy’s friend Max, although not the Max he remembered, apart from in his Laptop fantasy (That cock). This was Max 5.0 This was Mack the monster. Every bit as shredded and packed with muscle as he pictured him from his fevered dream back in the office. “Max ?” he said, not quite believing what he was seeing. The behemoth was dressed in gym gear. A raggedy Golds gym top in faded blue. Straps stretched so thin over the monstrous traps, shoulders and pecks that it just seemed unfeasible a person would be able to move if at all with all that bulk. The pecks themselves were so large that the thick nipples pointed down to the floor because of the sheer mass of the slabs of beef they were attached too. All of this bulk seemed to cinch itself inwards with the shape of the monstrous lats at the back and the ridiculous arms, that Jimmy was sure wouldn’t serve any practical purpose other than to lift weight. Biceps, thick hanging triceps and forearms that were from the fevered dreams of the most dedicated muscle fetishists. All of this growth and mass was on top of a pair of legs, that were themselves encased in white full leg compression leggings. The legs so powerful and filled with strength Jimmy could see the veins almost pulsing under the tight white fabric. The monsters’ huge feet encased in a pair of white Hi-top adidas trainers. Right at Jimmy’s eye levels was a bulge that was doing very little to hide itself. “Jimmy” said a voice that Jim heard as if it was drawn from the bottom of a well. Although he was sure he felt it start in his balls. It was that deep and that hot. Jimmy looked up in to the face of the beast and it was Max, not the nice gentle man he had known for years. This was a creature of stone, hewn, rather than grown. His brow was markedly thicker. His beautiful blue eyes were still intense and held an almost blank animal cunning a lust even. The thick black hair on his head was tousled and rough and longer than he remembered. Mack put a rough calloused hand on Jimmy’s shoulder briefly and he nearly shot his load where he knelt. “What the fuck?” He breathed. Realising that it wasn’t a question it was more a statement of awe. “Well” said the ringmaster, still holding the remains of his whisky glass. “To business.” He sat on the arm of the chair and leaned forward to Jimmy in a friendly manner. “You have a choice here Jimmy.” He offered. “You can walk out of here now, tomorrow you will pack up your business and within a month you and your lovely wife will have a new set up in a part of the country you choose. You will forget about any of this and all will be well.” Jimmy couldn’t keep his eyes off the man beast in front of him. He was that close he could feel the heat radiating from him. “Or?” Jimmy asked weakly. “Or….” Said Bennett drawing out the word. “Or, you will end up working for me as part of my stable. A new and exciting partner for Mack here. Our latest attractions if you will while I’m waiting for another to arrive from another part of the country.” “Fuck you.” Spat Jimmy (no James) suddenly finding the strength from somewhere to resist the devil in a suit before him. He tried to stand and almost did before a ton of stone seemed to crash onto his shoulders in the form of Mack’s monstrous hands. James turned to Bennett and spat at him, caught him clean in the left eye. The air seemed to crackle and turn heavy for a moment as if lightening was about to strike. Then it cleared as Saul Bennett started laughing as he grabbed a pocket square and wiped he face. He shook his head as he looked down on his prey. “Well, I must say I didn’t see that one coming. I certainly didn’t think you’d have had the strength to even turn your head.” He smiled and dropped the square on the coffee table. “So you’ve made your choice then ? No Job? Can’t see us working well together ?” He taunted “Oh well, I did try. I gave you a choice, an out if you will.” Said Bennett. “Mack, he’s all yours.” Said Bennett as he got up and brushed himself down. He headed to the door. “James it’s been interesting. Jimmy, I will be seeing you very soon.” Then he was gone. James felt the strong hands of Mack again. His attention was again drawn to the huge bulge in front of him. Mack put his hands into the front of the leggings and brought out the monstrous cock that was oh so vivid in Jimmy’s mind (JAMES not Jimmy please…) James could smell the odour of sweat and pheromones. Male sweat was emanation from the beast in Mack’s hands. He caught the smell of cock and he knew that he had started to drool. He couldn’t help himself. He dove on the cock, now released from the hold that Bennett had placed on him. He was now entranced by another master. He gave himself to it completely, he couldn’t help it. He took the beast in his mouth as if born to it. Mack put both his thick muscular hands on either side of Jimmy’s head (Definitely Jimmy now) and wouldn’t let him pull away. He could feel the thick piece of meat grow in his mouth but he didn’t care. He didn’t care if it choked him he felt he would die happy. Jimmy worked his mouth up and down the huge member, slathered it in his own spit and worked it with both of his hands. Mack started to fuck his face, groaning slightly, in and out. In and out. Slowly at first. Jimmy was moaning in lust. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t get enough of it. In and out. In and out. The huge man started to build up speed and his breath started to come in more urgent, ragged breaths. For about 15 minutes they were like this. Jimmy working the monstrous tool while the big bodybuilder alternated between slow and deep and out and out face fucking. Deep throating almost every stroke. Jimmy took it all and loved it. What Jimmy didn’t notice was that during this process he appeared to be wearing the gym gear that had been in his bag earlier. It still smelled of the gym. His body had started to slowly grow and change too. Mack reached behind himself as he was getting towards his final strokes and took a bright red snapback out of nowhere and placed if on Jimmy’s head. Jimmy had started to wank his own splendid cock now, but was really still riveted on the one that was still invading his face. All thoughts of his wife, Diane, Max and even Saul Bennett were about to be washed away. Mack drew himself up to his full height as he knew he was close. His think veined muscle seemed to jostle on his massive frame as he started to tremble. He clenched all of his power into a huge pose. Most muscular for the gods and with a roar he shot his wad into the mouth of the waiting cock slut beneath him. It felt like hours as he continued to pump the man’s mouth until he’d been sucked dry by the dumbass jock on his knees in front of him. Jimmy looked up at his lover with nothing less than vacuous wonder. He drew his hand across his mouth and wiped away some of the drool. He felt clear if not empty headed. His own thoughts now were limited to the needs of the beast in front of him and his master Saul Bennett. Part V The lady sat under a large sun umbrella and sipped at a cup of tea that had been served in a delicate powder blue china cup and saucer. It had the delicate bergamot perfume of Earl Grey and was served, quite properly with a slice of lemon. She was dressed in pale blue herself. Knitted pale blue suit and hat to match. She had a small set of pinz nez on a silver chain around her neck and would occasionally lift them to her eyes and gaze at the world or the people around her. Not that she needed them when she looked at you it pretty much felt like she already knew everything about you and what you were going to say. Her amethyst eyes were laser-like in their luminosity. She sat very properly, as ladies should, with her knees close together and her feet crossed at the ankles. I asked her about the incident with James Fraser and Maxwell Calder. She took a slow, delicate sip of her tea and looked into me for a moment. Then she dabbed her lips gently with her napkin and set it and her cup on the table beside her. When she spoke it was the voice of everyone’s Grandma. Gentle, warm and easy. It had a southern drawl to it that said this lady was a Georgia woman somewhere down the line. “Well, my dear you found me to talk to me about it. I wass wondering when we would get to it.” She said. “How did you first get involved? I didn’t think this would be something you would have got involved in.” I asked. “Okay, this was unusual.” She said. “ I have a lot of friends and contacts around the world. Especially in my field I am a very valued expert. I have a magic touch if you will.” “Usually I rely on wish fulfilment or revenge events but every now and then someone will call me and ask for specific help. If it, or they are worthy I help. On this occasion they really needed my help. “ She took another sip of her tea. “A week or so ago I had a call from a friend of mine called James, he works in L.A. (A cesspool of scum and iniquity but in the end money is money to some.) He had come across a situation that wasn’t really in his purview and asked for my help. “We’d worked together previously, and I’d taught him the basics in how to recognise manipulation, alchemy and magic. “She said and look at me intensely. “Anyway, the call went like this… Oh and yes dear I did say magic… “It does exist as you will find out if you bother to read all of the story rather than trying to skip through to the horny bits that you always do (Yes dear. You. )” she seemed to say to no-one in particular.” “I taped the call.” she said as she drew out a small recording device and placed it on the table. She looked at it testily when it wouldn’t start and then just glared at it for a second. I swear I think the thing started out of embarrassment… Anyway. The call went like this : Ms D “Hello James.” James: “Ms D.Good to speak to you.” Ms D “Why James it has been a while. It could be said that you have been remiss in your attentions.” James “Aww Ms D. You know you truly are the only woman for me.” Said James Ms D “What can this old southern gal do for a big city lawyer like yourself?” James “I think I have one of those problems that only you can deal with.” Ms D “Intriguing, it has been a while since we crossed paths and I know that I taught you well enough to recognise meddling when it’s around.” James “That’s why I called. I think there’s someone who is definitely at it here in L.A.” He pauses for a moment on the phone. James “It’s a bit out of my league and to be honest I’m a little worried about it. It might be good to have a little back-up.” Ms D “I sense that there’s something more about this one James. What’s the issue my dear?” James “This guy changes people. Actually transforms them. I know it’s possible to hypnotise and entrance people but this ? It’s high level and way out of my experience. I’m worried. Max Calder is going in tomorrow and I want to make sure he’s protected. Look I know you’re busy but if you can help in any way…” Ms D “I’ll help dear boy, of course I will. What’s the name of the reprobate we’re dealing with so I can have a little look see?” James “His name is Saul Bennett.” Ms D “Saul B.E.N.N.E.T.T ?” James “Yup that’s him. He’s a big time porn producer with a rep for really owning his guys and girls if you know what I mean?” Ms D “I do indded, go on.” James “Well I have heard stories over the last 6 months or so about guys either disappearing or changing enough that their own families and friends hardly recognise them. It’s scary. I’ve met one of the guys whose partner has changed. It’s scary.” Ms D Pauses a moment Ms D “I can only imagine what the poor souls are going through. James, does this man have two different coloured eyes ?” James “Why yes, he does. How’d you know?” Ms D “Years of experience and a quick search of my database while we were chatting. I may be an old maid dear but I’m far from decrepit yet.” James (Laughing) “No-one who’s ever met you would call you that dear, lady.” Ms D “I’ve got a couple of good likenesses here now, give me a few hours and then call me back. Also contact Max and tell him to call me before he goes in to. Tell him not to make any contact there unless he’s spoken to me first.” James “I will, thanks for this. I really do appreciate it. I’ll have to pay you back one day.” Ms D (Gentle laughter) “You can do so by visiting a little more than you have and maybe taking an old lady out to dinner.” James “You’ll outlive me I’m certain of that. Dinner’s a date. Speak to you soon.” Ms D “You shall indeed. Be safe James. This person is dangerous I can sense it. This isn’t a stage magician you’re dealing with. Bye for now.” The Line goes dead The Lady picks up her device and pops it back into her bag and closes it with a snap. She takes a final sip of her tea and looks at me over the rim of the cup. She finishes it and pops it back on it’s saucer and on the table. “Well?” she asks “Did that answer all of your questions?” I pause for a minute to gather my thoughts and then soldier on under this woman’s intense stare. “To be honest for each one it answer I think I have about 20 more.” I admit honestly. I cannot be anything but honest in this lady’s presence. It would feel wrong. I look at her as she sits primly and properly in her wicker chair and cannot understand for the life of me where she seems to get this aura of calm, authority from. It’s as if someone took every grandmotherly emotion and condensed it into some sort of protective cloak about her. I know that I would do anything for her. It’s that sort of feeling. “Why, what a lovely compliment young man.” She says brightly and fans herself with her hand. “I find myself quite, quite flattered.” She smiles. “I-I, err.. “ I stammer slightly. “How did I know? “ she asked smiling still. “Come on dear boy.” She chided gently “You heard the recording and you’ve seen the two boys.” She said. “It’s true?” I asked already knowing the answer I had already, in truth known all along. “All of it, every word.” She affirmed. “Wow.” I said. “The big question here Michael my dear.” She said pausing and leaning forward out of her chair and lightly gripping my chin so she raises my eyes to her blue lasers. “Is what are we going to do about Saul Bennett?”
  22. dredlifter

    The Librarian - Chapter 4

    Overdue, but here ya go! Will probably have to edit out some typos as I revisit this but hopefully you can enjoy! Chapter 1: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14262-the-librarian/ Chapter 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14459-the-librarian-chapter-2/ Chapter 3: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14606-the-librarian-chapter-3/ ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Chapter 4 Tom had never felt so horny in his entire life than in the immediate hours learning that he now weighed 246 lbs. He thought back to growing up, being a 150 lb beanpole for so many years, and here he was nearly 100 lbs bigger of pure, dense, manly muscle. That afternoon in the locker room felt like an awakening. For the first time in his life Tom actually felt BIG. Any bystander would've said he'd been looking big for a couple of weeks now, but it wasn't enough for a true muscle obssesor like Tom. No, even now, Tom knew that he wanted more. So much more. But, he was finally reaching a size where he could truly enjoy himself. After dumping a copious load back in his home shower, Tom felt refreshed and ready to go. He slipped on some gym shorts and a sleeveless black shirt. He glanced in the mirror and smirked at the handsome stud who smirked back. Before today, Tom would never be caught dead going out into public in a sleeveless shirt. But the man in the mirror, the man with the big arms hanging at his sides, looked like a man whom it would be a shame to cover up those mighty arms. His short black hair accentuated a light tan, obtained in the past three weeks during various shirtless yardwork sessions. Tom couldn't help but slowly bring up his arms and flex. Holy shit. He really was starting to look BIG. Still not huge, not in his mind anyway, but these were the cannons of a serious weightlifter, someone who could step on stage at an amateur bodybuilding show and place well. He looked like a total alpha stud. As a joke he whipped on some aviator sunglasses and a backwards ballcap. Looking in the mirror he snapped a quick pic and sent it to a couple of his old college buddies. Tom had to know. He reached into the drawer near his bed and fished out the tape measure. He wrapped the tape around his left arm and FLEXED with all his might. The tape tightened and he examined the number. Almost 19.5 inches. Immediately Tom's cock went to full erection in his gym shorts, even though he just had a furious shower jerking session. And he couldn't wait to grow them even more. Tom's phone buzzed, his buddies had seen the photo and had responded with various platitudes: “Damn, Tom, you got HUGE!” “Geez are you eating roids for breakfast, lunch and dinner? You're arms are bigger than my legs!” “Holy shit, man. I'm going to make you train me if you can get me looking like that!” All the attention made his ego swell right along with his pumped up body. Tom then began to sift through his closet, noting that most of his clothes would no longer do. He tried on a few t-shirts and loved the feel of the fabric clinging to his skin. Some of the shirts were now far too small, but that didn't stop Tom from trying them on, as it gave him a frame of reference to just how large we has getting. Tom slipped on a size large white t-shirt that was extremely tight. He faced his mirror. With snarl, Tom slightly bent forward, brought his two fists together in front of his waist, flexing his biceps and triceps. Simultaneously, he flared his lats and squeezed his pectorals as hard as he could, mimicking a crab pose to the best of his knowlegdge. Then it happened. The doomed shirt split right up the back along this erectors. The sleeves blew out at the arms. Tom could barely hear the fabric tearing as he roared loudly, looking proud and cocky in the mirror. Tom relaxed the pose and chuckled to himself. He looked like the 1970's TV Hulk after the transformation, shreds of a t-shirt hanging from his frame. Thus, Tom decided it was time to do some shopping for a wardrobe upgrade. Hewas able to find a t-shirt that just fashionably tight and some gym shorts and headed out. At the mall he was elated to find out he was now in XL and XXL size range, depending on the brand. A nice late-20's woman at the department store directed Tom to some brands he had never heard of. “I think you will like these shirts,” she said, eyeballing Tom, obviously interested. No doubt she would be disappointed to learn that Tom played for the other team. But, the attention she was giving only stroked his ego more. “...this brand designs most of their clothes for younger men in an athletic cut. I can see that you spend a lot of time in the gym. These clothes will fit you well and accentuate your development, which is very impressive I must say,” she smiled and suppressed a giggle. Tom cocked his eyebrow and smiled handsomely to the lovely woman. “Well, thank you Miss. It can be a hassle to find clothes with my proportions.” “Oh it's nothing! It's nice to be able to help someone of your impressive...uh...stature, rather than the really obese gentlemen that come in.” “Well, ma'am, as you can see I'm certainly not obese.” Fully flirting back, Tom then lifted his shirt to reveal his cobbled abs to the stunned saleswoman. “Oh my! Um...wow, sir,” she said fanning herself. “Pardon me for asking, but how old are you?” “Forty-nine.” “OH MY GAWD!” The woman shouted, looking stunned. “Wow, I was going to guess 38 at the latest. You are so handsome and built you make the men my age look like weaklings. Um, say, I hope this isn't too forward, but let me give you my phone number...” The young woman winked and recited her number. Playing along, Tom typed it into his phone. “Please, if you need help finding any more fitted clothes give me a call...or for anything else.” It was turning out to be a tremendous day. Tom walked out to his car with two shopping bags full of new clothes that would now fit his enhanced body. He even bought a few garments another size up as he KNEW he was going to grow into them. Nothing was going to stop him from further growth. On the drive back home, Tom drove by a small building with “TATTOO” written vertically down the side. On a whim he pulled over and walked inside. Tom has always liked tattoos but had never had the confidence to get one. Part of it was that he used to feel too small and another part was that he used to be intimidated by the gruff looking exteriors of the parlors. But now, none of that was an issue. Tom walked in and a friendly, overweight bearded man in his 30s, face adorned with several piercing and arms covers in ink, smiled and welcomed him in. “Hello there, man. What can I do for you today?” The parlor was empty, so no wait. It seemed everything was going well today. “I want to get a tattoo on my shoulder. I was thinking a panther. Not like a full panther, but maybe some artistic version of a panthers face prowling though the jungle or something.” “Cool, bro. I think something like that would look great on you. I've done ink for several muscle dudes like yourself. I know what you're type likes, give me a few minutes to come up with a sketch.” And like the Grinch's heart, Tom once again felt his confidence grow by another size. And it only fed into his awareness of his body. How he could feel himself taking up more space. How all his clothes were tight. How he was BIG. Fifteen minutes later the artist came out with a blue sketch of a fierce looking panther's face, partially obscured by what looked like jungle branches and vines. It was an image of a powerful predator ready to leap out of the shadows for the take down one of its victim. It was perfect. “I love it, dude! Let's do it.” The artist ushered Tom to the back area. Tom rolled up with sleeve and the artist swabbed and cleaned the skin. “If you are worried about pain, bro, don't. You've got a big meaty shoulder, the more muscle you have less the needle will hurt. And you've got a BIG delt. Damn, man, you are one of the bigger guys that I've inked.” The artist imprinted the stencil and went to work. The two bantered, the artist asking several questions about his gym. It turns out the artist had inked a few of the lifters from Tom's gym. Ninety minutes later the tattoo was done. Tom paid the artist, leaving a hefty tip. He then headed home to enjoy the rest of the best day of his life. If only he knew it was going to get better. ++++++++++++++++++ Finally Monday arrive and Tom was back at work. Even with his new wardrobe, it couldn't be missed how big Tom was getting. So much so that Susan cornered him in his office. “Boss, I have to ask, are you on steroids?” Tom couldn't help but chuckle at the response, which only irritated Susan even more. “I'm serious. I don't want to you doing something stupid to harm yourself!” “Susan, first let me correct you in that steroids can absolutely be used safely and effectively to put on muscle. But, if you must know, no, I'm not on steroids. I'm just maximizing my beginner gains. And it feels awesome.” “Beginner gains?” Susan asked skeptically. Tom went on to explain the idea behind beginner gains and then going into an in depth description of how he was putting on so much mass. Susan raised her hands to interrupt him after a five minutes spiel on the benefits of behind carb loading. “Alright alright! Yeesh. I'm sorry I asked. You really are becoming a meathead. But you swear you aren't doing anything dangerous?” “Susan, I promise to my knowledge I'm not doing anything unhealthy. Trainer Ron has helped me jump-start my fitness, I think my body is just making up for lost time.” Reluctantly, she accepted his explanation. “Well, Ok. But if I find out you are doing something bad I will kick your ass so hard, even if you are 300 lbs!” As she walked out of his office, the thought of being 300 lbs crept into Tom's head, sending more blood to his crotch and stretching his cock down along his growing thigh. +++++++ A couple of days later Tom's world would get turned upside down. It was mid-afternoon and the front desk worker was on her 15 minute break so he was momentarily filling in. As luck would have it, in walked a man that nearly turned Tom into a quivering mess. In walked a dark skinned man with a tight, youthful, yet masculine face with deep set, inquisitive brown eyes. On top of his head he had medium length dark brown hair styled upward and forward and trimmed down to a buzz on the sides. His handsome face was framed by a close cropped beard covering what was the definition of a square cut jaw. His prominent cheek bones indicated a low body fat. When Tom was finally able to break his gaze from the stunning stranger's face, he only became more aroused as he examined the rest of the man. He had on a sleeveless shirt with large duffel bag slung over his shoulders. The strap of the bag was nestled in the gap between the pyramidal trap and his cantaloupe-sized shoulder muscle. Each exposed arm could provide any biology class a lesson in muscular anatomy. Cords of veins ran down each arm, encircling sinewy biceps and triceps that bulged off his arms even when unflexed. Tom could only imagine how much the muscles jumped if the man flexed. The veins spread out across his large forearms like parasitic vines on a tree trunk. On his torso, the strap of the duffle bag had rested in the ravine created by the twin molehills that were his pecs. The strap pulled his shirt fabric into the crevice furthe accentuating the size of his pecs even though the shirt fabric was fairly loose. Due to the size of the man, Tom guessed the shirt had to be an XXL at least for it to be as loose as it was. Even then, it couldn't hide the musculature that was underneath. The shirt was loose enough that sadly, the mans abs were hidden, but judging by the mans face and his vascularity elsewhere it would have been foolish to think that his abs were anything but sensational. Further down he had on some Jed North gym shorts. The bottom of the man's quads were exposed and like the rest of him, large and defined. The gym shorts were sufficiently filled by his large legs and of course, what looked to be a healthy bulge. Even from the front Tom could see his calves bulging out on each side of his tanned shins. The man was wearing athletic socks and sneakers, rounding off what was obviously gym attire. Entering the lobby, the man scrunched his face in a bit of confusion, noticed Tom, smiled and walked toward the reception desk. Tom silently prepared his brain to speak as the hottest man he ever seen approached him. He was glad he was sitting at a computer desk, his crotch safely hidden underneath. “Hey there!” The mains voice was deep as he cheerily greeted Tom, offsetting his intimidating presence. “When did this place become a library? Last time I was in town this was a hardcore weight room.” Tom gulped and summoned the courage to speak, “Oh yeah. Just about few months ago. I found out after we opened that this used to be a gym.” “Oh, that's too bad. I got some of the best workouts of my life in here. The guy who ran this place was awesome. He gave us all free protein shakes after our workouts. I swear every time I lifted here I made a month's worth of progress in just the couple of days I was in town.” “Um...so what brings you to town.” “I'm a sales rep for a water treatment equipment company. I make my rounds down here every few months. By the way, I'm Jack.” “I see. I'm Tom.” The handsome man leaned in and shook Tom's hand. Tom could feel the power in his grip, the thickness of his hands. “Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you man, when I first saw you I didn't think you were coming here on purpose,” Tom chuckled. “Jack cocked one eyebrow, and retorted, “Oh, and why wouldn't you think a guy like me would be in a library?” Tom stammered, embarrassed at his inadvertent put down. Jack chuckled teasingly and relaxed, letting Tom off the hook. “Hey buddy, I'm just joking. I can see that you clearly lift too. I'm sure like me you get your fair share of 'meathead' stereotyping. But I'll have you know I'm a member of my hometown library. I just got done reading the first book of this Wheel of Time series, “The Eye of the World” by Robert Jordan. I really liked it, ever hear of it?” A new wave of astonishment flooded Tom's brain. First Jack had noticed his own gym progress and second, Tom had read every book in the Wheel of Time series. He could barely contain his excitement as he responded, “Yeah! I have. It's one of my favorite series. I think you'll really like the rest of the books.” Jack grinned seductively, cripes the man was muscle sex on a stick. “Good to know, man. Say, since this place is no longer a gym, know of any good places? I prefer a real gym, not one of those fitness club places.” “Um, yeah Jack. I go to a place called the Flex Plex. Here I can give you directions. I'll be there in about two hours for my workout. “Thanks, buddy. I haven't taken my preworkout yet, maybe I'll have another meal and we can lift together!” “Uh...um..are, are you sure? I think you might be a bit out of my league...” Tom glanced at the man's arms again. Running numbers in his head, this guy had to weigh AT LEAST as much as Tom, and being a few inches shorter and much more shredded, the man obviously had a lot more muscle than Tom, even as big as Tom had gotten. Jack smirked again, “Nonsense, buddy! I can see you got a great set of pecs and there's no denying those big arms stretching your sleeves. I'm sure you'll give me just as motivation as I am giving you right now.” Jack winked. Tom's mind raced. Was this uber-stud hitting on him? “Uh, well, sure Jack. I'll be there around 6:00pm. If you are there we can lift together. What are you working tonight?” Jack smiled and looked down at his arms before looking back at Tom, boring holes in his eyes. Jack suddenly and quickly raised his left arm and FLEXED the cannonball muscle right in front of Tom. “Working arms and delts, you?” Tom's mouth hung open as he eyed the pro-sized arm in front of him. The enormous mound of muscle had a clear split in the peak, something only the best of best and those with top notch genetics could achieve. The arm had to be over 20 inches, perhaps 21 or even more. Tom slowly gazed up the arm and into Jack's smiling face. Weakly, Tom replied, “Uh...yeah. Me too, man.” Jack chuckled and dropped his arm. “Somehow, Tom. I figured you would be be. I'll see you later tonight.” With that, Jack turned and sauntered out of the library, giving Tom a great view of his bulbous muscle butt. +++++++++++++++++++++ The rest of the afternoon Tom felt like his impressive dick was going to tear through his pants. This guy Jack had stepped right out of his fantasies and into HIS library. It seemed like the universe was completely on his side. After Jack left, Susan came over. “Oh my god, boss, who was that delicious hunk of meat? That had to be the sexiest man I have ever seen.” Susan leaned in close and whispered, “And I'm sure you felt the same way, too, huh.” Tom chuckled and replied, “His name was Jack, apparently he used to come to the gym that used to be here.” Disappointed , Susan sighed, “Figures. A pure meathead.” “Actually, he said he's an avid reader. He just finished the first book in long series that I have read a couple of times.” Susan jokingly fanned herself. “You're kidding, right? That Grade-A slab of beef reads too? I hope you got his number for me!” This time Tom leaned into Susan, grinning, “Actually, I think he plays for my team. And I think we are going to work out tonight together.” At this Susan dramatically sighed and threw her head back. “Ughhhh you are kidding me! I knew it was too good to be true. First YOU and now this Jack fellow. You know, boss, intelligent fitness hunks are really messing with my mind. I swear, ALL the best ones are on your side. Well, I wish you luck. Try your best not to jump his bones.” Susan giggled as she walked away. Once his shift at he library was over, gathered up his gym gear. He put a few scoops of the special protein powder into the small container in his duffel bag to use for his post workout shake, slung the bag over his shoulder and headed to the gym. At the gym he got changed, put his stuff in his locker and headed into the workout area to warm up, glancing around constantly for any sign of Jack, hoping among hope that Jack wasn't playing him. Sitting on the floor, he reached toward his toes to stretch his long hamstrings and lower back when suddenly he felt two hands pressing on his upper back, pushing him forward. “Here let me help you get a good stretch, buddy!” A deep voice rumbled from behind him, a voice he couldn't possibly forget from the afternoon. “Ahhhh, thanks Jack. That really helps!” “No problem, buddy. Here, now you do me.” Tom relaxed the stretch, stood up and turned around and froze. Jack was standing there in a small maroon tank top, plastered to his rippling, caramel colored body. The outline of his heavy square pecs clearly visible, his nipples barely visible moreso because they were mostly pointing downward due the heavy development of his chest. A deep canyon formed above the neckline of the tank where his upper pecs surged upward. A large gap of air formed underneath the straps of the tank where the fabric was suspended between his huge traps and those mountainous pecs. The arms were as he remembered, huge and veiny, the sinews easily visible under the thin skin. He was in the same Jed North shorts, shoes and socks from earlier that afternoon, revealing just enough of his legs to prove that this uber stud never skipped leg day. After giving him a slow look over, Jack looked up into the smirking face of Jack. He had been caught, but Jack only winked. “Glad to see a friendly face here, Tom. Ok help me stretch.” Tom took a deep breath as Jack turned and sat down on the floor. Jack's W-I-D-E back fanned out tremendously like a manta ray, leaving only the thin y-strap of his tank to hug his spine. Jack put his hands on the warm, firm upper back muscles and pushed as Jack had done to him. “MMMM that feels good stud, thank you.” Tom froze. There is was, officially out there. Jack wouldn't use the word 'stud' unless he were into me, Tom thought. Tom decided to return the favor, his confidence growing as this superman continually stoked his fire. “Thanks, Big Guy! I can't wait to get a workout with a huge, buff hunk like yourself,” Tom replied. Jack stood, turned and smiled up into Tom's handsome face. “Right on, handsome. Let's get HUGE!” And with that the two engaged in an epic chest, triceps and biceps workout. With Jack leading, Tom was able to push himself even further than even what Ron had been able to coax out of him. The entire time Jack and Tom spotted each other, hands on muscles, helping each other to gut out extra reps. When Tom would think back this workout from the future he would instantly get hard thinking about the erotic undertones. Feeling Jack's enormous pecs and his arms as he benched and curled. But in the moment, is was all about the work. Having perfect form. The reps. The contraction. Tom was thankful he was working so hard as he no fear of boning up in front of Jack or the rest of the gym, even though he was getting to feel up the man of his dreams. Finally the workout ended. Tom was nearly speechless as he saw a fully pumped up Jack. Jack smiled at his workout buddy. “Damn Tom, you are a beast. I've not found very many lifting buddies who were able to keep up and match my intensity. You've got what it takes, man. I mean, I can see that all over pump you got, wow man! I can't believe you've only been lifting for a few months. You could be a monster!” Tom was eating up the praise, “Thanks, Jack. If I could ever look half as good as you I would be happy. You are so massive and still ripped to shreds! Your veins are insane man! Your arm looks like a roadmap. You've even got big wormlike veins on the top of your huge pecs, wow.” “Thanks, dude. Ok let's head into the locker and have our post workout shakes. In the locker room with their clothes drenched in sweat they each made a shake to load up on post-workout nutrients. Tom scooped himself two scoops powder and chugged it down, the excess drink running down the sides of the cup onto his strong chin. For Tom, it was starting to click just how special that protein powder was. With all his progress and seeing and the now even heavier weights he was lifting with Jack, that just had to be it. It seemed to be some super supplement...and Tom knew he still had 3/4 of the stuff left. Jack sucked down the last sipo of his drink, set the cup down and stripped off his tank, exposing his perfect bodybuilder torso to Tom. “Oh yeah, Tom, drink that down and come pose with me.” Tom sucked down the drink in four large gulps and responded, “Actually, I know of a private posing room we can use. Follow me. Stud.” Jack smirked and followed Tom to the posing room. Once the door was locked, Jack practically tackled Tom. He wrapped his rippling arms around Tom, crushing their big chests into each other. “Fuck, Tom, you are the hottest guy I have seen in a long time. Handsome and strong. And smart! And you kept up with me during the workout, fuck man you drive me crazy! I can't believe how PUMPED you look right now. You look like you are 10 lbs heavier since we started the workout!” Tom grinned to himself as his swore he could feel secret supplement working even faster from taking two scoops. He swore he could feel each of his muscles swelling, bloating, growing harder, more defined. Jack leaned up an planted a ferocious kiss right on Tom's lips. Tom moaned and kissed back at the slightly shorter muscle stud. His own hands feeling and squeezing at Jack humongous delts and biceps, which Jack noted. “Oh yeah stud, want me to flex these babies?” “Fuck yeah, Jack. Please show me them.” “Boom! Twenty one inches when pumped, which they are pumped as fuck right now! Might be TWENTY TWO after our intense workout.” He flexed even harder and demanded, “Lick them, Tom!” Tom first grabbed the mass of arm muscle, unable to place any sort of dent into it. Then, as instructed, he brought his mouth forward and kissed all over the throbbing ball of sinew. He mouthed back to Jack. “Jack, you are the hottest guy I have ever seen. I can't believe you find me hot, I just about lost control when you walked into the library.” Jack moaned back as Tom kissed his exposed pecs, licking into the valley between the plates of armor. “Tom, I couldn't hardly believe that YOU were a librarian. I thought some jock stud was joking around when I saw you behind that desk. But then you told me all about the books you read. And I realized you had both brains and brawn, that makes me drool, Tom. Jeezes I'd swear your pecs are pumped even BIGGER since we got into the locker room...And you know what else makes me drool?” Jack pushed back and held Tom at arms length and grinned. “Tom, jacked up librarians with BIG DICKS make me drool. And as we've been attacking each other I felt something VERY large poking into my side.” Jack, keeping his smirking gaze on Tom, slowly dropped to his knees. Tom continued to squeeze Jack's boulder-like delts as Jack descended. Jack then slowly pulled down Tom's waistband until the large throbbing shaft sprung downward from it's own weight like a lowering drawbridge. “Oh fuck yeah, Tom. That is ONE. BIG. COCK.” Jack maneuvered his face under the huge shaft and nuzzled his chin against Tom's balls. “Look Tom, your cock is almost as long as my entire face, you big hung library STUD!” Tom stood entracned as he looked upon his own monster dick laying on Jack's face. It looked more engorged than he had ever seen it, perhaps a ½ inch longer too! Jack then licked up and down the underside of the shaft as Tom's breathing intensified. Jack looked up as Tom stripped off his tight shirt above. “Fuck yeah Tom, you look so fucking huge. A big tall muscle stud who is only growing BIGGER! I swear from this view it looks like your muscles are pulsing bigger and bigger. So fucking hot. Two ripped dudes pushing each other to grow. Muscles growing. Shedding fat. You are going to get so huge, Tom. The biggest, baddest, buffest librarian in history.” From on his knees Jack leaned back and bounced his massive pecs so Tom could see. Jack then grabbed Tom's massive cock and rubbed his cockhead on his engorged pecs, nearly sending Tom over the edge. Jack continued to tease. “You really do look bigger too Tom. That huge pump you got looks like it set in. From down here I can see your arms look bigger. You abs look deeper, your chest is bulging out more. And...maybe it's just me, but it feels like you cock is growing too!” At that, Jack moved his face to Tom's cock again and swallowed the entire thing in one motion. Simultaneously, Jack reached out and fondled Tom's egg-sized testicles. No one had ever been able to deepthroat Tom, but this musclestud was doing so like a professional. Tom resisted as long as he could, but the muscleman's warm wet mouth, titanic body and the knowledge that he was getting bigger was too much. With a roar Tom emptied his huge nuts into Jack's gullet. To his surprise, Jack swallowed every drop. Once Tom finished, Jack slowly slid off the huge shaft, inch after inch of wet slippery cock slowly exited his mouth. With a sated look, Jack looked up at Tom, brought his own arms up into a hyper-intense double biceps flex, and proceeded to blow a mighty load from his own impressive dick all over Tom's legs and feet. ++++++++++++++++++
  23. Shade

    The Commando

    AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a repost from the old forum to help christen this new site. I hope you enjoy a second read. The Commando I feel my big pecs as I stare in the mirror. My fingers tracing the thick shelves of muscle and casually teasing one of my tough nipples until it is hard enough to etch diamonds. Even as I take a casual breath the fibres flex without conscious effort, bunching and rolling beneath my skin. The muscle underneath is harder than granite. Harder than steel. Perhaps harder than any other substance on the planet. Beads of sweat are still running down the naked skin of my chest and through the deep valleys of my abs as I admire the pump from my first workout of the day. After that session I know I need a new way to train. I think of the yard outside, strewn with pieces of tanks and machinery left scattered after the orgy of devastation I just wrought with these hands. Big hands. Powerful. Each fist the size of a prize turkey. In the mirror I am swollen like a massive god. Fuck I’m so huge. So thick. So strong. Has any being walked the earth who possesses the power I have in one arm? Reaching across the table I grab a container of my special protein drink. It is about the size of four litres. I chug it back feeling the liquid hit my stomach like a lead weight. My muscles absorbing the fluid immediately and I feel the fibres knitting themselves back together, bigger and stronger than they were before. Casting aside the empty container from my hand, I pick up another container and start drinking it down. One container after another. Until all five containers from the table lie strewn about the floor. Feeding my needs and fuelling my growth. BANG I ignore it. BANG I tip back the last container onto my lips. Each milky thick drop pouring down my hungry throat. Only now am I starting to feel satiated. BANG As the liquid finishes pouring down my throat I finally turn my attention to the noise and I toss the empty container so hard that it hits the wall, shattering the plastic. “COME!” I rumble. In the big, empty room the echo is amplifying my already deep voice. It’s not as easy a command as it would be in any other “office”. The door is so heavy that the average man could never open it. The Ministry of Defence has rigged it up for me, thick steel plates, wider than the doors of a bank vault and just as impossible for the average man to move. But as I watch the door open, metal heaved and moved as it is wrestled out of the way by a man very determined to see me. The door takes him less time than it would any of the others. And it isn’t long before Royal Marine Commando Corporal Roger Clarke struts inside. He never walks. He struts. He is one jacked wanker, and he thinks he’s the dog’s bollocks. I suppose in every way he is. Of all the recruits to the program he is the biggest and the best. And like all the other recruits the program has amplified his alpha male instincts. You already have to be a cocky lad to join one of the most elite special forces in the world, but these recruits were the best of the best. And showing excellent progress. Corporal Clarke is top drawer. He smirks at me. He just can’t help himself. “Reporting for my weekly jab sir,” he reminds me. He stands straight, rigid. His green beret framing his square jawed face. So very handsome. A shadow of stubble is present even this early in the morning, and I know as well as anyone on base how fastidious the commandos are about personal hygiene. But with so much testosterone flowing in your system what can you do? Personally I’ve given up shaving and just trim my beard instead. It’s just fucking easier that way, even if I have to do it several times a day. Like the other program recruits he wears only his regulation trousers, and even these days the trousers aren’t quite adequate to contain him. I inspect his physique as I watch him walk towards me. The corporal has grown bigger. But I knew that already. I’ve been watching. He’s growing into a strong son of a bitch. And his vast strength has established him at the top of the pecking order of his fellow volunteers. I lick my lips involuntarily and the gesture isn’t missed by the corporal. He stands tall. His shoulders are wide as an ox. Probably wider, as I’ve never seen an ox in my life and can’t imagine one as big. Every muscle is impossibly etched. Thick and full. I regard him with respect, his full 200cm height already makes him imposing. But less than four percent of his 150kg weight is fat. And what fucking muscle. The corporal’s neck is a thick column, wider even than his head. Those thick shoulders, and delts, massive and round, framing lats that are so wide they press against his horseshoe triceps and force his arms to hang out from his body. All of which make his waist appear even narrower. But fuck! Those pecs! So massive, so overdeveloped. Delicious. His arms, the pride of any man, are simply huge. Biceps that are pumped looking even when stone cold, meaty with veins that run across them just under his skin. Row after row of bricks form lines on his torso, hard and deep and just dragging the eye downwards to the mammoth quads and jutting calves. Assets barely hidden under the tight fabric of his trousers. And of course the mighty bulge of his cock that marks the man as the stud he is. A cock which is always half hard, like a thick sausage. I take a breath to control my raging hormones. My own monster is also always half hard and threatening to spring into action, so I know what it must be like for the corporal to maintain his iron discipline. I disregard the sweat dripping off my thick body. I’d been about to take a shower, but now there is clearly no point. We’re going to have a tussle, the corporal and I. I turn my back on him and walked further into the open space of the room. My office is actually a massive warehouse where I conduct my experiments. My life started as a civilian contractor when I’d stumbled on the initial formulas for enhanced strength and muscularity. Formulas that I’d designed originally for myself. Her Majesty’s Government had found out though, as they always do, when they discovered I was acquiring some unusual combinations of materials over the internet from Eastern Europe. After a midnight visit to my flat by the elite SAS, some of whom I’m sorry to say got hurt in the process of trying to bring me in, the Government wisely decided that were willing to let me continue my secret research as long I shared some of the bounty of my results with Her Majesty’s Forces. A loyal patriot, I was only too happy to oblige. And in return I’ve been given access to facilities, materials, and research that have greatly improved my formulas and my own strength and musculature. When I’d turned my back on him, I’d expected the corporal to take advantage. But even I was surprised as to how quickly he could move. He springs onto my massive back, and I feel his arms wrap around me and under my own arms. Feel his hands come together behind my neck as he attempts a full nelson hold, exerting a granite crushing amount of pressure. He leans back, lifting me into the air, and I can feel his hard, needy cock rubbing against my glutes. The corporal is very aroused. But so am I. “If I win,” he growls into my ear, “I get two jabs this week.” That was the deal I always gave them. If they could beat me I’d give them the key to rise above and eclipse their fellows. But no one has beaten me yet. I’ve seen him use this move on his fellow recruits. One of his signature moves, and he’s always boasted that his hold was unbreakable. I grin to myself, as I feel him try and increase the incredible pressure to my neck. But he hasn’t reckoned on the power and thickness of the corded muscle running from my traps up to head. Thicker even than his. I am impenetrable, so I casually bring my arms down. He fights me, but can’t stop my thick arms from pushing into his. And he has to let go. I feel myself touching the ground as he releases my neck. Just as soon as I felt the pressure break fully, my feet now solidly off the ground, I reach around with one hand and pull his weight off the ground and into the air, flinging him over me and throwing the corporal across the room and against the cinder block wall with enough force to crack the wall. He slams into the wall, dust rising around him as he stands up. Momentarily unsteady. He’s never tried the full nelson on me before and I believe he genuinely thought he’d be able to hold me at his mercy. Maybe even fuck me. Still believing he can take me the corporal charges with his full might. I am ready for this frontal assault. He slams into my torso, grabbing it around the only part narrow enough for him to encircle: my waist. But I am braced and I don’t step backwards. Even though the force of his impact actually pushes my body across the concrete floor several centimetres, enough that my heels score the concrete and leave grooves. Not to be daunted he twists, lifting my 200kgs into the air, over his head, and slamming me back against the ground. The concrete cannot withstand his assault and the muscle of my body and breaks as if a jack hammer has been taken to it. He leaps on top of me and I feel his big fists connect, first the left, then the right, with my hard jaw. He’s strong enough to turn my face and his quads wrap around my waist, inner thighs contracting, strong enough that even I grunt at the pressure. I slam my fist into his chest, and he is pushed backwards by the impact. His hold on my waist doesn’t break though and he reaches forward to attempt to pin me to the ground. I growl and snarl as I flex my arms and pecs underneath him, muscling his whole body upwards until my arms are fully extended, pressing his solid muscle mass up and down over me as his back is forced to arch, then lowering him to my pecs again. I feel his power fight against me, trying to force my arms back down, but I don’t give in, holding him at bay. With a final heave I toss him up in the air until he comes down on his arse ten feet away. We both stand. I massage my jaw, and I can tell he’s starting to doubt and reassess. I slowly eye him as we circle each other, bodies thick and pumped, looking very big, our pecs heaving with the exertion. It’s my turn to smirk, noting the hard on raging under his trousers. This big lad is turned on when he faces someone as strong as me. My own torn trousers feel the pressure as my cock all but tears through the damages material. I flex my biceps at him. “Come and get it started little fella!” He brings his arms behind his head, big guns swelling, thick veins pumping blood, he flexes his quads and I watch as the trousers tear up the sides. Watch his cock fight against the material, as he flexes his abs, muscle etched, and the material tears away. His cock rips out thick and wet I circle around him, taking in that perfect form, those quads swollen and yet still showing every cut and vein on them, almost impossible thickness on those wheels. And that arse, the flawless resting place for my massively thick and long cock. Something inside me snaps a little. The testosterone is coursing in my veins. Unable to resist, I can't help but quickly and decisively force my engorged guns up under his pits from behind. I force march him forward the few metres to the table and force him over. I feel his resistance, but feel my own guns thicken as I hold him down, locked tightly underneath me. He grunts, but I reach for the syringe waiting on the table. I stab it into his arse, as he grunts. Pausing only as he feels the serum enter his bloodstream. Then I force him upright, pulling him up, and then off the ground. My cock tears through the material that’s holding it as I hold his massive weight in the air. Needy I wedge myself deep in those thick glutes and feel his resistance tear away as he is unable to stop me. He kicks out, as my pecs dig into his lats, but for all his energy he cannot stop himself sliding down my shaft. Cannot stop the cock that forces open his thick hole, not for the first time, and roars his frustration. I let him back down as his thrashing lessens, resigned to his fate. Pushing him forward onto the table I begin slamming into him. He isn’t tight enough to stop me, but as the formula takes hold within him I feel the inevitable power coursing through his glutes as he squeezes them against my cock. Making for the most amazing ride. Then I surprise him. He sees me reach for another syringe. It was hidden under some papers, but I’m prepared. I want to see how he does. I inject it deep in his glute as I toss it away. “Aaaaaahhhhhh fuuuuuuuccccckkkkkk yeeeaaaahh!” he groans as he feels it start to take hold. His whole body shudders as the twice the normal amount of serum floods through him. With monumental effort I pull my cock out of the corporal’s ass and take a step back to watch the changes in his body as he swells with the pump of the formula. His cock is massive and hard and hung in front of him like a battering ram. I come close, our cocks slapping each other loudly. The corporal stands his ground, and I feel my pecs push into his, but feel resistance as he pushes back. The corporal flexes his arms. Big massive peaks forming. “Yeeesssss!” He breaths. I reach to squeeze his guns. They’re beautiful, inhuman peaks, slowly I apply pressure as he flexes, but I am surprised to meet such resistance. I expect my own muscles to cope, and to fight back. I do feel my arms tighten, feel the cords in my biceps and forearms explode and power up as they fight to overcome the resistance in their way. But yet my fingers do not dent the corporal’s muscle. Instead I feel it expand and push my fingers away. The corporal grabs my other arm. I try to pull away. But I cannot free my hand. The corporal holds me fast, his thick muscles becoming unstoppable, his strength phenomenal. Fuck! The corporal is getting bigger. He twists me around and pushes me toward the bank of mirrors. "FLEX!" he orders me. And I cannot disobey. I bring my arm up and flex my powerful gun. I feel the powerful contraction getting harder and I look at the corporal’s own arm behind me. Mine is vascular and huge. Like a rugby ball if not bigger. But behind me the corporal’s own arms rises high, even higher, cords of muscle thickening. And I can’t take my eyes off that arm as it eclipses my own. Everything about the corporal is bigger, thicker and harder than it was mere moments ago as the formula passes through his system. “Ohhhh fuuuuuucckkkkkkk….” He moans in ecstasy. I know the feeling. That hit of power and the intense feeling of pleasure as your body responds to the changes being demanded of it. A mix of pleasure and pain that burns through you. “Now it’s my turn,” he says in a low, husky voice. Pushing me forward until my face is planted in the mirror. I feel him thick and heavy behind me, his strong hand against my thick lats as he pins me to the glass surface. It cracks with the pressure, and I sigh as his body comes even closer to mine. Muscle forcing me to move as I feel his other hand tearing away what’s left of my shorts and underwear so he can massage the firm muscle of my rounded glutes. His swelling cock is straining, pulsing and as rigid a steel pole in the valley between my glutes. I grin though as I feel him seeking entry to my untouched hole. He is powerful, but I am not helpless either and I tighten my glutes together forcing his cock away. At the same time I brace myself against the concrete wall and push against him. He groans as he feels my lats in contact with his pecs. Our muscle fighting for dominance, and I can feel him winning. Being pushed closer the wall. Even as I exert more effort the corporal flexes back, still seeking my hole, determined to pin my under him. The concrete begins to crack as it is not strong enough to support the force I am exerting against it. The corporal wraps his arms around me, pinning my arms, and holding me tight. I feel myself naturally struggling against him. My unmatchable strength and power being contained in the grip of this cocky soldier. My body surges as I feel my power tested. Muscles that have destroyed a fleet of tanks and torn apart ships, but not strong enough. The corporals grip tightens and I can feel the wetness on my glutes as the corporal’s cock leaks precum. He’s getting off on this and he rubs against me as he does. I can feel his muscles growing as he struggles to contain me, even as I fight back. Two hulks, fighting each other for room. Fighting for size. The corporals thick pecs digging into my back, denting and overpowering my lats. Feeling helpless as I’m overwhelmed. But at the most hopeless moment, even as I feel his cock start to tear into my glutes I feel the effects of the three jabs of growth serum I had taken a few minutes before the corporal arrived. My hulking body is so oversaturated with that it takes longer and requires more concentrated doses to have effect. At least until the new formula is ready. I can now exert my own power again. Roger’s body is coursing with formula but not enough. My body grows even in his struggling hold. Biceps thickening as his arms are forced apart. Lats expanding as I feel him pushed backwards I flex my quads, forcing myself to full height, and my cock is achingly hard. Pressed so hard against the wall, I flex and feel the glass and concrete give way as my thick dick digs into the wall. Even so the strength of the man holding me is amazing. His genetics adapting and improving the formula. Equalling mine even now. But even so his strength is feeding my own growth, my power. Oh yeah, I can feel him weakening, struggling to hold me down. The delirium of my growth is intoxicating. “Fight me!” I command, as I break free of his hold. The corporal is not prepared for a turn of events such as this. He responds with his training, punching me repeatedly. But even as he does I can feel my abs thicken. Growing larger, harder. Like impenetrable armour. I grab his fist in mid-swing. He is stunned. All the power in his punch being summarily stopped. And I don’t just do that, but instead muscle his arm down until I know he is in pain. My growth is now coming on in waves as the early litres of protein drink kick in. I wrap my arms around the corporal and hug him tightly to my chest. His pecs are now no match for mine. Feeling him struggle as I contain him, I encircle him in my much bigger arms. At that moment I can crush him, destroy a rival and the finest commando of the Royal Marines. But just now I have other needs. Roger struggles every moment of it, but it just feds my own strength and size. I easily lift his now much more massive body off the ground and force him down onto my cock. Using him like a toy to fuck. I’ve never felt such a pump. Maybe the key really is to exert my strength against someone else. This could be my new form of training. By the time I erupt into him and pull his exhausted body off my cock I already know that the corporal is going to get a few extra jabs. Anything that it takes to keep me growing.
  24. ABSQRST

    Liquid Manhood- Chapter Three

    Thanks for all the comments, part four should be up by the weekend at the earliest. Read Part One HERE Read Part Two HERE Liquid Manhood Chapter Three “You are in very good health Mr Wington” the doctor finally said after poking and checking Barrett out for nearly an hour The doctor had seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in having Barrett strip, the older man’s hands running along the ridges of Barrett’s stomach and chest. Ridges that to most people would of been considered amazing to possess, but Barrett knew they weren’t as cut as they had been last week. “We’ll have to wait for the test results to come back in a few days, but from what I can tell you are a fit healthy man in his early 20s” the doctor added, flicking through a chart Barrett looked the doctor in his almost-orange-with-fake-tan face, annoyance plastered over Barrett’s handsome, but exhausted features. “Nearly two months back when you gave me my start of the year physical you said I was the most healthy person you’d ever saw” Barrett explained Even back then the doctor has spent more time than he needed to feel out Barrett’s body. He remembered the doctor fingering each solid brick of Barrett’s abs. Shaking off the memory of the obvious groping he heaved himself off the examination table, pulling at the bottom of his shirt to hide his still amazingly ripped abs. He’d been doing it more and more recently, he just had this thought in the back of his head that he was on display, like he was suddenly all self conscious. He even dug out an old long sleeved shirt from his closet to hide the thick toned pillars he called arms. The Barrett Wington who had always tried to not wear a shirt suddenly didn't want anyone to look at him. “Yes…well Mr Wington, that was last month” the doctor replied “You still are in very good shape, and very good health” There it was, ’very good’, not ‘amazing’ or ‘incredible’. Barrett was used to being perfect, ‘very good’ was a demotion. “Like I said when you arrived and when you called last week” the doctor continued “You might just have a bug, happens a lot in the first few months of the academic year” Barrett just nodded, the doctor was most likely right. A virus or infection was the only explanation for how Barrett felt, and how it seemed the entire football team were feeling the same. The doctor handed Barrett a small box of pills. “Takes these twice a day” the doctor said “Should give your immune system a little boost” Barrett just nodded again, finding it harder to find his voice, like he was getting nervous around people. As he left the doctor called back “Come back in a few days, we’ll have your results then, but remember to take it easy.” Barrett ignored him and slowly walked back to the frat house, scratching at his crotch the entire way. His jock strap was still itchy, even though he’d had it washed everyday since the itching started. He probably shouldn't wear it anymore, but he just couldn't get comfy in other underwear. It was like he’d gotten used to the itchy jock. Going to the local clinic felt like a waste of time, he’d felt like shit all week. It had messed with his workouts, even football practice had been terrible. Coach Peters nearly burst a vein bellowing at the failing athletes, and at Barrett especially. But Barrett had a horrible thought in the back of his mind, a virus could cause every symptom he had. It would cause the soreness, the exhaustion, the failure to be an active jock, but even with Barrett’s basic knowledge of biology he knew that nothing could make your feet a size smaller. He stared at his feet as he walked, both out of a want not to make eye contact with others and to also examine his feet. Barrett’s size 15 sneakers were feeling loose. Maybe it was time Barrett pulled out his old size 14s. Barrett’s next step ended up with his shoe being left behind. His eyes widened and Barrett quickly slipped his foot back into the too big sneaker. His pace quickened and he crossed his meaty arms over his still impressive chest defensively, on second thought he’d borrow a frat bro’s size 13s. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Chris and Melvin sat in the greasy pizzeria just outside of campus, huddled in a booth a back. The red leather seats fraying and the table still stained from the meals of the last few dozen diners. The dingy restaurant was Paulie’s Pizza, a place famous on campus as the go to place for a cheap meal, just as long as you liked pizza. Paulie, if that was his name was a Persian who clothes were always stained with pizza grease, he was as Italian as Super Mario. But Melvin had to admit he did make a good pizza. The nerdy student was chowing down on a large slice of pepperoni. Chris just stared over his expensive sunglasses at the other students in the restaurant, tightly held in his hand was a specimen cup of emerald green liquid, it was the elixir. A week had passed since they'd started collecting the liquid by draining the football team and Chris had finally decided to test the elixir out on a human. Melvin’s roommate had been very encouraged by the change to Burt the cactus, and even more encouraged by the change in the football team. Everyday Chris would describe all the small changes he’d seen in the athletes, he barely breathed as he hurried out the sighting of Barrett Wington’s shoe falling off his foot yesterday. Melvin was sure that Chris has jerked off that night thinking about Barrett’s feet shrinking. “See anyone yet” Melvin said between bites of pizza Chris nodded with a small smirk on his lips. “Stefan, that German student who's staying for a semester” Chris said in a quiet voice Melvin craned his head around to look for Stefan, he wasn't being subtle. Stefan was sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the restaurant, he was alone and clicking on his phone. He was fair skinned and very blonde. How Melvin imagined all Germans to look, he was lean, but probable had a very average body under his loose hoody. “Why him” Melvin asked returning his gaze to Chris Chris shook his head at Melvin, angry at Melvin’s obvious stares. He explained slowly and with fierce patronisation in his voice “Stefan is the best candidate because he’ll be returning to Germany in a month” Melvin nodded, his voice a little shaken by Chris’ mild anger “So his change won’t attract much attention” Chris nodded and then pulled himself out of the booth. Melvin watched Chris slip past the tables and other patrons, he passed the counter where plates of food waited for the waiters to delivery them to their tables. As he passed Chris poured the sample cup of elixir over one of the plates. Chris quickly vanished into restaurant restroom, always trying not to draw suspicion. Melvin again with his eyes obviously pointed at Stefan watched the short dark haired waiter with a name tag reading ‘Zack’ place a plate of elixir soaked pineapple pizza at Stefan’s table. Chris returned, maybe walking a little too fast. He slapped Melvin on the shoulder to get him to stop staring at Stefan. Melvin looked down at his half eaten pizza slice, picking at the stringy cheese. He heard Chris swear under his breath. “What” Melvin asked without looking “He fucking left” Chris muttered, slapping the table, no one looked towards the bang in the loud restaurant Melvin looked over to Stefan’s table, and it was empty. The pizza hadn't been touched. “Looks like he got a text, and he just left” Chris explained “The idiot paid for the pizza and everything” “So…another target” Melvin asked Chris nodded “Yea….I’ll do some more searching and find someone to dose” The two roommates got up and left, Chris muttering about how stupid people were and how they never did what they should do. Chris not even letting Melvin finish his pizza. Neither of them noticing Zack the waiter with the greasy olive toned skin return to clean the table, or how Zack even though he hated pineapple eagerly ate the abandoned elixir soaked pizza on his way back to the kitchen as Paulie didn't let his waiters have a lunch break. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Sean kept pulling at his shirt, but not because it was tight or because it was riding up his belly. He was pulling at it because it was loose, it hung around his neck and stomach. For the first time in years he was standing in front of and checking himself out in a mirror. The sink below it was flushed lime green, Sean had just washed his mouth out with Mountain Dew. He’d noticed the bottle was a darker green than normal, and the taste was a little different. More savory, almost salty, maybe he’d just picked up a soon to be out of date bottle. The strange tasting beverage wasn’t taking up much of Sean’s attention though, the sight in the mirror was more interesting. Even though he looked just like he always remembered, ginger, chubby and below average, there was something different. He wasn't as plump as before, his face and neck were thinner. There was even the hint of some bone structure peaking through. Nearly every piece of clothing he owned felt looser, except for his shoes. He looked leaner, healthier, like he’d been eating right. Which was wrong, the take out boxes in the trash can a few feet away saw to that. Sean had always thought he could do with losing some weight, and the mirror was proving him right. He just didn't have the mind and will to do it. But he liked the new him looking back from the mirror. Slimmer, eyes a little brighter and not a spot in sight on his pale skin. He even seemed to be holding himself taller. He turned from the mirror and swung his shoulder bag on, it was stuffed with books, but Sean could hardly feel the weight. With a smile on his face, and without his usual setup of headphones blasting music to repel any social interaction he headed out of his room for the campus library. Sean made sure his door was locked and walked straight into a raven haired boy. It was Chris from next-door, close behind him was a quiet blond nerdy boy. Sean didn't know his name, but had seen him enough times to know he was Chris’ roommate. Chris stepped back from Sean, quickly scanning who it was who’d bumped into him. Sean smiled politely at both boys, the blond with the crooked nose smiled back. Chris though stepped forward so he was inches away from Sean, staring him down. Sean surprised himself and almost laughed at the lithe boy’s attempt at intimidation. “What do you think you’re doing” Chris sneered down at Sean The taller boy stared down at him from behind expensive designer glasses. Sean had guessed that Chris was about 6ft tall when he first saw him moving in a few weeks back, but now Sean was maybe an inch shorter then him. This revelation caused a shot of excitement to drop right into Sean’s balls, he’d gotten taller. He’d never in his wildest dreams thought he’d reach 6ft, and he was now a hair’s length away. “I’m heading to the library” Sean explained knocking himself out of his thoughts, and surprising himself with how confident he sounded. Suddenly Chris’ slightly angular face softened “Oh, you mean the Haber Library” Sean nodded, knowing this was leading somewhere. Chris just smiled with perfectly straight pearly whites. The blond boy sighed in relief, Chris must get angry at the drop of a hat. “My last name is Haber you know” Chris stated grandly Sean just shook his head at the arrogant dark haired boy. Chris was attractive by anyone’s standards, but the speed at which he could switch from mild anger to lording something over someone else turned Sean off the high cheekboned student. Chris flicked his glossy black fringe “Yes, we’re an old family, been going to this college since its founding” Sean again just nodded, adding an ‘oh really’ for good measure. He could feel his cock hardening as he stared at Chris’ pretty face, his libibo had been sky high the last few days. He felt dirty getting hard over such an arrogant jerk. “We Habers were here long before the Wingtons” Chris continued rolling his eyes at the dorm room corridor “This shit hole is all they can throw together” Sean remembered the dorm room was named Wington Dormitory, he also remembered that some guy on the football team was called Wington. He then thought ‘It’s a shit hole you live in Chris’ but he stopped himself. Chris gave Sean a friendly slap on the shoulder, it didn't jiggly like it would of a week ago. “Have a good one” Chris smiled widely, seemingly having forgotten the earlier insult Sean watched Chris and the blond vanish into their dorm room. He chuckled to himself and head out, even whistling a little tune. As he left the main doors of the dormitory his nostrils flared and his cock throbbed. There was something rich and musky in the air. He followed it. The thick stench led to the trash cans, they were piled high with trash, having not been emptied this week. Perched on a slant between two black trash bags was a cactus. A large green cactus with a dark red flower atop it. Sean liberated the plant from the trash and inhaled deeply. He only got the small whiff putrid trash, the rest of his sinuses were filled with the musk rising off the cactus. Sean hid the potted cactus behind the trash cans, he’d return for it after he’d finished in the library. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Zack Buffone, like a lot of wait staff was a drama major, and like a lot of drama majors he never imagined he’d be a waiter. But he needed the money, college didn't pay for itself, especially when you had a father disappointed at your life choices. His dorm room in the Wington Building was like most other dorm rooms, two beds, a shared desk and with the simple decorations that each of the roommates had placed around to make it feel like home. Zack had placed a few posters on the wall above his bed, all of them for Broadway musicals. Rent, Wicked and Les Miserables to be specific. His roommate Lance, a golden blonde beach boy had two posters one an idolised version of his native San Diego and the other of some band that Zack was sure he only had up because it was the ‘in’ thing to do. Zack and Lance were different people, Lance naturally athletic, he’d even taken to lacrosse at the start of the year like he was born for it. While Zack was creative, and desperately trying to make a name for himself in the college drama department. They rarely talked, but they had talked it had always been civil, mostly about how to log onto the college computer system, or about their neighbour and his noisy arguments with his girlfriend. But right now their shared room looked like a tornado had torn through it. A neatly kept pile of Lance’s business books had been strewn across the desk. The desk chair had been knocked over and Lance’s mattress had been partly pulled off of the bed’s base. On Zack’s bed lay the tattered remains of his Paulie’s Pizzeria workshirt, like something had burst out of it. Sweat had drenched the sheets and the mattress appeared to be permanently imprinted by the sudden weight of a much too large occupant. The air was thick with the ripe smell of fresh cum and the sound of flesh slapping flesh bounced off the walls. A layer of musk was descending over the dorm room, the odour of sweat and muscle. Zack was standing at the small sink and mirror that all dorm rooms in the Wington building had. This wasn’t the Zack who’d waited tables the day before, the Zack who’d come home in a sweat and collapsed exhausted onto his bed, the Zack who was already feeling the effects of the cup of elixir he’d been accidentally dosed with. A cocky smirk lined his newly chiseled face, his right arm up and flexing. He wasn’t skinny anymore, his arm was thick with muscle. The rounded bicep bulging with the slightest movement. The rest of his body was just as big as his arm. His hand every now and then would grope at the meaty pecs he now owned, his entire body shining with a hearty olive tone. His black hair was glossy and now ran over his boulder like shoulders. Zack now towered above his dorm room, having grew over half a foot. He guessed he had to be at least 6’5 now, and with over a 100lbs of extra mass. Since nothing of his would fit him he’d steal something from Lance’s closet. He doubted anything of Lance’s would be anything but skintight. He was excited, barely thinking about what could've caused his growth. He was too busy stretching out his new muscles. Zack had tried out a number of poses, learning how to get his new muscles to listen to his commands. Lance though was having a completely different experience. Between Zack's newly thickened muscle thighs and with his head painfully banging against the sink was Lance. His hazel eyes bloodshot and teary, his jaw sore and Zack’s monstrous horsedick stretching out and down his throat. Zack’s rounded bare ass flexed with each thrust as he fucked his roommates struggling mouth. Lance had given up punching at Zack’s thighs and ass after the second load of cum had been shot down his gullet. Zack left hand was gripping tightly to Lance’s golden locks, “Fuck…….” Zack said for maybe the dozenth time His voice was deeper, richer and oozed confidence. An almost natural authority, it was how he’d got Lance onto his knees after their brief struggle. The smaller blonde boy didn't know how to pick a fight. He’d punched Zack in his steel hard abs, probably thinking Zack had broken into the room. He remembered asking what Lance wanted, the blondes eyes on Zack's bulge. The newly grown muscle man cupped his crotch, the blonde's eyes only widened. Then something just clicked into place in Zack’s head and he grabbed Lance by the throat and tossed him onto the floor. He cock slapped Lance’s beach tanned face a few times, then went to force open Lance's mouth, only to find it already opened wide. That was nearly two hours ago. Zack looked down his thick smooth pecs at Lance’s spit and cum covered face, he smirked. “You enjoying that” he asked He loosened his grip on Lance’s hair, his thrusting slowed. Lance’s head moved as much as it could, he didn’t need Zack to fuck his throat, he appeared more then happy to impale himself on Zack’s meat rod. A few drops of fresh sweat fell onto Lance’s hungry eyes, the cock tight in his throat, but Lance kept sucking. Zack just boomed out a laugh “I fucking knew it, weird that I’d wanted you to fuck me when we met” His speed returning to his thrusts “Never thought seeing you choke on my dick would of been the better option” With that he pulled out, Lance gasping for air. Zack’s fat cock swung for a second before rising up to slap at his six pack. Lacne’s hands were still holding onto Zack’s huge thighs. Zack pulled him to his feet. Happy to have Lance at chest level, he bounced his pecs in quick succession. Zack caught the growing bulge in Lance’s boxer shorts and smiled. He pushed Lance towards the beds, and gave his perky ass a slap that probably stung. “Pick a bed, I want to dump this load in your ass” he ordered.
  25. ‘What the hell is going on?’ That is the reaction Brice has after he passes out and then wakes up several minutes later after Cain Darkori places him into a holding cell. The larger red skinned brother leaves the room and locks the door as Brice tries to stand up. He falls back down after realizing that he doesn’t have any type of balance. He barely remembers anything that happened just a short while ago except that some crazy substance has taken up residence in his body somewhere. He wonders if it will force him to somehow change against his will or if it is awakened by some sort of weird occurrence. His energy level seems to have leveled off and he feels fairly decent, but the fact that he is locked up tells him that he may be in some secret program. ‘HEY, WHY AM I IN HERE? HELLO? I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!’ Brice tries to shake the bars on the cell and they don’t budge. After a few more seconds, he goes to sit on a bench inside the cell and puts his hands on his head. As he sits there, he hears a click on the main door as it opens. He looks up and sees a familiar face and even looks at them bewildered. ‘WHAT THE HELL? Owen what are you doing here?’ It is the friend that originally recommended the Darkori’s in the first place. The young trim man sits in a chair just outside the cell and puts his glasses on that he had in his pocket. He parts his legs enough to put his arms on them and smiles back at Brice. ‘Hi buddy, I see you visited Dr. Orleans and Dr. Darkori. Did they help you get better at all?’ ‘What the…? Why aren’t you answering my questions? Why are you even here Owen?’ ‘Well Brice, as it turns out it wasn’t a coincidence that I sent you to either one of them because they helped me too.’ ‘Uhh well thanks I think. Why are they red and why do I find them so attractive? Is this a side effect of their serum?’ ‘Hehe, yeah you could say that Brice. I also was attracted to their red skin and how the muscles glistened in the lights. I’m actually here right now because they called me in to calm you down. You don’t need to be so loud and obnoxious you know.’ ‘I’m fucking scared Owen, this crazy shit is flowing inside my body. I can feel it moving through me, it does make me feel normal though.’ ‘I’m glad Brice, but I need to make you understand that the serum flowing through you is meant for more than just hormone therapy, it is a key that unlocks a part of you that you never thought existed. Trust me I had no idea either when they did this to me.’ Two beads of sweat begin to slide down Owen’s head as Brice can see his skin starting to get redder. ‘Are you alright Owen, you seem like you are experiencing some kind of a hot flash?’ Owen wipes his brow as more beads of sweat begin to move down his face. He pulls a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and rubs it all over his face as he pulls his glasses off to wipe them down too. He puts them back on and sighs. ‘I ummm may not be able to hold it back much longer so I’m just warning you before it happens.’ ‘What are you….oh gawd I have already seen this before from Dr. Damien Darkori. Are you going to change colors?’ *slight laugh* ‘Hah no I’m not going to become a red muscle monster like the doctors. They were born that way, I am just a product of their creation.’ Brice can sense a bit of danger and starts to move towards the back of the cell but realizes that he won’t be safe no matter what happens. He starts to grab whatever he can get his hands on in the cell: the bed, the bench, the clothes, and puts them all around him as he cowers over in a corner and watches Owen start to squirm in his chair as it starts to creak slightly. His breathing grows heavier by the minute. He grabs his chest and turns his head down into it. ‘OH GAWD BRICE I FEEL IT BUILDING UP INSIDE ME. IT HURTS SO MUCH BUT IT ALSO EXCITES ME MORE THAN EVER.’ *voice deepens* ‘OHH MAN, IT IS MOVING TO THE SURFACE JUST LIKE I AM ABOUT TO ERUPT LIKE A VOLCANO.’ Brice’s eyes grow large as he sees his friend’s back expanding rapidly as he gasps for air. His shirt begins to shred under the sheer size of his muscles. Seams split in his pants as the chair crumbles beneath him as he falls to the ground. Muscles grow everywhere as Brice can see Owen’s face beginning to change shape. The man looks up as his glasses fall to the ground and shatter. His green eyes have now turned yellow as his massive chest makes quick work of his shirt as the material falls to the ground in tatters. The growing beast gets up to stand as his shoes explode beneath him as his feet nearly double in size and appear to be getting longer. His toes get a new shape to them which alarms Brice to the point that he starts to mumble to himself. His quads grow fatter and more developed as his cock explodes through his underwear dropping them to the ground as his cock grows larger and longer. Even stranger now, the beast’s skin color is changing as it quickly moves down from his head which no longer has any hair on it to his feet. His formerly normal skin tone is now grey. His body hair is minimal now besides the goatee on his face. The creature turns to his side and laughs as his huge ass presses up against the bars exposing his throbbing hole. Brice involuntarily moans as he sees this and feels an erection building in his pants. ‘OH GAWD NO, YOU ARE TRYING TO MAKE ME GIVE IN AREN’T YOU?’ The beast moans in delight as a tail begins to grow from just above his bubble butt. It flies out of his enormous back and sits close to the ground in the cell as it flails about. Brice jumps up and yells in fright as he realizes that his friend is actually a demon. It turns back around and starts to shake the front of the cell like it is taunting him. It laughs again and starts to bounce its giant cock at him. Once again, Brice can feel his cock stirring as he feels his temperature heating up. ‘STOP DOING THAT! I WON’T GIVE IN…..PLEASE STOP!’ The huge beast flexes its engorged 24” pythons and rips the doors off the front of the cell. Brice jumps back and tries to climb up the wall away from Owen. The man creature grabs him and pulls him down on the ground as it shoves its long tongue down his throat so he can’t say anything. Brice starts to convulse as his body involuntarily gives in to the demon’s advances as he no longer has any type of control. It locks its lips on his and begins to push the entity from within Brice to the surface. The 350 pound creature continues to summon the beast inside Brice as it wraps its giant arms around him and rubs his back forcefully. Brice feels his body go stiff as the change begins. He can feel the hair on top of his head starting to fall out as the man demon Owen makes him flex his biceps. He peers over at them as his eyes enlarge noticing them growing rapidly rising ever higher. The fact he is nearly nude makes the growth cycle commence even quicker as he feels his back popping and stretching further outward. He still cannot make a sound as the pain intensifies. He winces as tears roll down his face. Owen pulls his tongue out of Brice’s throat to lick the tears off his face as he watches his friend change even further. The man demon caresses him as his abs grow and thicken as well as his pecs which blow up into huge slabs of granite. Just like with Owen, Brice’s quads explode in size pushing his legs further apart to make room for his growing cock which has already begun to thicken and lengthen.With the slit growing bigger, Owen leans down to shove his tongue inside and starts to lap up the juices that are beginning to flow through his cock. Brice’s face and head are now bare. He can feel the muscles tightening and growing at the same time as he realizes that he may lose his awareness soon. He feels his eyes starting to change from their blue color to the same yellow color of Owen’s. His feet are also changing as his toes thicken and lengthen at the same time. His pain threshold is now gone as it now turns to pleasure. He moans deeply as his voice changes dramatically. He reaches down with his new larger hands and pushes Owen’s face on top of his cock. The cum begins to build up quickly as Owen moans deeply too tasting the thick pre beginning to change over to the white stuff. Before long, Brice moans in his new gruff tone as Owen gulps down tons and tons of thick cum. His tail flaps wildly as his cock begins to spurt its own frothy load on to Brice’s new thick calves and feet. Brice sprouts a tail shortly after he finishes cumming down Owen’s throat. He pulls him off his powerful cock and shoves his tongue down Owen’s throat as the two huge muscular demons play tonsil hockey with each other. They are completely unaware that someone else has entered into the cell. After a minute of wrapping their tongues together they realize they are being watched. ‘Hello there men or shall I say pups. I see that you two have gotten acquainted with each other finally.’ Brice and Owen stare at each other and smile. Brice realizes that his mind is still intact but his voicebox isn’t the same. He tries to say something, but nothing comes out. ‘No no Brice, it is okay. You don’t have to speak to me I can hear what you say through your eyes and mind. Perhaps even Owen can help you out with your issue.’ Brice is beginning to feel a lot of contentment in his new body as he looks down and marvels at his new gray muscles and rubs them a few more times before leaning over to rub Owen’s chest and face. ‘I can see that you care about him Brice. I am glad that you have someone to help you transition. Just know that this form only appears when you are excited or feel the need to act.’ After taking a few more steps, Brice stares at the red-skinned behemoth and remembers that it is Cain Darkori. Cain shows his teeth to both man demons and warns them to not approach him as it isn’t safe at this point. He motions for Owen to move himself over to the other cell located beside Brice’s so that he can revert back to his old body. He wants Brice to watch carefully so that he is able to do it in a safe fashion away from anyone he cares about. Owen sits down on the ground as his tail begins to fall off and his face returns back to its normal shape. His body hair begins to sprout again as his muscles slowly shrink back down to their original places and sizes. Now drenched in sweat and completely nude, Cain walks over to him and pulls another pair of glasses out of his lab coat he is wearing and hands them to Owen. He extends a giant red paw out to Owen and embraces him. He then tells Brice to let his brain clear itself and to let himself revert back. Brice nods as he sits on the ground and attempts to do the same thing that he saw Owen do. His tail falls off and his body hair begins to grow back as he calms down. Before anything else happens though, he passes out as his muscles were beginning to shrink down again. Cain rushes over to pick him up as he senses there may be a slight difference inside of Brice’s body. Owen follows them into a separate area where Cain places him on an exam table. He rushes out as he starts to yell for Damien to come quickly. Owen looks down at his grayish-colored friend and wonders if something has went gravely wrong with Brice. At this point, the half man half demon has gotten his original face back but has retained various features of the creature like his coloring, his feet, and even his gargantuan cock. Owen keeps staring at it in awe as Brice bounces it for him. It is at this point that Brice can speak again and whispers into his friend’s ear. ‘Please you have got to relieve this load building inside me. It just keeps building and it is driving my mind crazy.’ Owen stands there and debates on whether he should even honor this request since it may be too dangerous. What would the Darkori’s do to him if he did in fact relieve Brice? ‘Damnit Brice, I…..can’t buddy……I don’t know what they would do to me if I did that?’ Brice moans deeply as he feels a volcano of precum flowing out the slit of his cock. He grabs Owen on the arm and pulls him towards the leaking pole. Owen tries to resist as he feels pre hitting him in the face. It immediately makes his body start to tingle as his mind begins to race wildly. Before he locks lips on the giant pole, he is thrown across the room and knocked unconscious. Brice yells, ‘NO! WHY?’ seeing his friend lying there motionless. Damien Darkori immediately locks lips on the leaking rod and pumps it quickly. Brice heaves his body up and down as he launches tons of seed down inside Damien’s body. It goes pouring down all over his bare red chest and face as he gulps as much down as he can. Cain watches in the distance as he picks up Owen and slings him over his shoulder. Brice’s feet finally return to normal as Damien finishes drinking down the massive gallon of cum that the man demon produced. He pulls the shrinking cock out of his mouth as it sits silently on Brice’s leg. Damien turns to look at Brice and smiles a bit before he turns around to leave the area. Brice jumps up quickly and realizes that his skin is still gray. Cain walks over to him and puts his free hand on the scared man’s shoulder. ‘I know what you are thinking Brice, but I am here to tell you that being gray isn’t so bad. Look at it as a stepping stone to something better. You are not the same human anymore, you are something far better. I suggest you stay here overnight so me and Damien can help you with your diagnosis. Don’t worry about Owen, he took a licking but he will be fine.’ He pats the helpless man on the back and turns to leave the area. Brice goes back to the table and sits down with his hands on his face. He begins to wonder what will happen next as he ponders his next move.
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