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Here's another new story. This one had been inspired by a new friend on this forum who's encouraged me to write about those men who want to grow well beyond what is thought to be possible. They desire to not only grow but to become truly grotesque muscular creatures. I hope you enjoy. Become One Chapter 1 I shouldn’t be here. I look up at the large banner hanging from the ceiling of the convention room that reads “MuscleFest Fitness Expo”. I have barely taken two steps into the room and I’m already overwhelmed. So much jacked muscle and that’s just the people walking around the expo. I worry I’m going to loose my mind when I see an actual professional bodybuilder. I contemplate just turning and walking away but I take a minute to calm myself down. I start to walk around the room, passing the first few booths and realize that I’m practically invisible in this crowd. The only people getting any attention are the legitimate bodybuilders and fitness fanatics. That both settles my nerves and makes me feel pathetic all at the same time. The place is packed with people and on more than one occasion, I’m bumped in the shoulder by a far larger individual who probably didn’t even notice me. At 5’9” and 175lb, I’m hardly a formidable presence in this setting. I see a seating area off to the side and decide to sit down for a bit and try to relax. It took three years to work up the courage to finally buy a ticket to this expo and here I was, too scared to even enjoy it. This was a dream come true for me. I was in the presence of all the bodybuilding stars I’ve admired my whole life and I was messing it all up. I know I’m being hard on myself but I can’t shake the feeling that I don’t belong here. I sure all the people only see a skinny, gay, muscle obsessed loaner. I sink deeper into the chair and pull out my phone. I bring up Instagram and instantly I’m confronted by a constant stream of muscle. But it’s not your run-of-the-mill bodybuilder muscle, it’s the most extreme muscle. I scroll through images of the biggest, most incomprehensibly massive men on the planet. These men have biceps bigger than people’s waists, chests as thick as they are tall and quads so gargantuan, they can barely even waddle, let alone walk. It’s been this way for me for as long as I can remember. While I appreciate big muscle in all its forms, I’ve always been drawn to the more extreme level of muscle mass. I’m both fascinated and aroused by the men that have taken their muscle obsession to the absolute limit. I scroll past numerous high quality morphs that have artistically enhanced already massive beasts well past what is considered possible. I pause when I see a new post from the person who is the real reason I’m finally here appear on my screen. Alan “The Destroyer” Wilson. I feel my mouth go dry as I stare intensely at the image. At only 5’8”, Alan is the epitome of extreme muscular development. He recently posted that he weighed 325lbs with 7% body fat. To say he was big would be a complete understatement. I can only describe Alan as a grotesque abomination of what is considered normal, even by bodybuilding standards. In the image, he’s standing by a fan while they have their picture taken. The poor soul standing by him almost looks scared to be so close to such a massive creature. In most circles, the fan would be considered a jacked up bodybuilder, but next to Alan he looks weak and pathetic. While a number of inches taller, he pales in comparison. But it’s Alan that I’m focused on. I almost have to stifle a moan. I stare at his quads and calves first. He’s wearing sweat pants but rather than being baggy, they are stretched so tight I can see thick veins running in every direction. His feet are spread very far apart to accommodate his barrel-thick thighs but Alan’s calves appear to almost be touching. Each muscle is so enormous they expand numerous inches from both sides of his shines. I can’t see Alan’s knees because the meat hanging from his quads totally eclipses them. My eyes travel up the quads and marvel at the level of definition I can see through the thick fabric of his pants. It’s obvious that one of Alan’s quads is twice as thick as the fans legs combined. I snicker as I look at what Alan is attempting to wear on this upper body. I say attempt because it’s virtually impossible to hide the terrifying mass he processes. He’s wearing a shirt so huge it looks like it was once a blanket that he’s cut a hole for head to fit through. The billowing fabric cannot hide the sheer volume of his pecs, shoulders and arms. The hole is cut wide enough to allow his traps to be completely visible. I bit my lip as I stare at the cable-thick trap muscles erupting from the sweater. They encompass his head to such an extreme degree, Alan does not appear to have a neck. I wonder how he can even move his head with so much muscle surrounding it. I finally settle on Alan’s face. There is nothing most people would consider attractive about it. The extreme quantities of chemicals Alan has poured into his body for years has caused his facial features to become as distorted as the rest of his body. His jaw is square and so thick, it looks like he’s chewing on a cinder block. His forehead protrudes far beyond normal and he is completely bald. The most shocking feature of Alan’s face and head are the veins. Thick veins criss-cross most of the surface, only enhancing his grotesque appearance. While most would consider him downright hideous, I only see the side effects of his dedication to become a monster and I cannot look away. To me, he’s the most beautiful specimen on the planet. I take a screenshot of the image and file it into an album titled “Freaks”. I slowly scroll through the collection of images I’ve accumulated over the years. While most of the images are of Alan, there are many other massive bodybuilders and ever more morphed images. I finally tear myself away from my phone and glance across the expo floor. The different supplement and clothing brand booths stretch as far as I can see. I feel my heart skip a beat when, not more than 50 feet away, I see the same logo that is displayed behind the image of Alan I was just looking at. The absolute epitome of all my muscle fantasies is somewhere over there. My palms start to sweat as the reality of the situation sinks in. I consider just bolting for the front door. Suddenly my mind is racing with a thousand thoughts. Why haven’t you gotten serous about the gym? Why are you such a creep, looking at pictures of huge men but not doing anything to build your own body? You know everyone here thinks you’re a joke. Before I know it, I’m walking in the opposite direction of the booth I know Alan is located at. I feel sweat on my forehead and the crowd suddenly seems to grow exponentially. I’m being shoved by people twice my size. My heart is pounding in my chest. I see an exist sign and partially run towards it. I find myself in a dim hallway where I lean against the wall, pull my legs to my chest and rest my head on my knees. I feel like crying but I try to ficus on my breathing instead. After a few minutes, I’m feeling a little calmer but I decide that this was huge mistake. I stand up and start walking further down the hallway, looking for an exit door. I turned a corner and grab the first door knob I see. I open the door a walk through hoping I’ll step onto the street and get a lung-full of fresh air. Instead, I stop dead in my tracks because two feet in front of me is Alan “The Destroyer” Wilson.
The intercom on his desk phone buzzed, and Tom Beck, the office manager, picked it up. “Mr Beck,” said his secretary Anna, “your ten o’clock interview is here.” “Ok,” said Mr Beck. “But why are you whispering?” “Well, he’s sort of an unusual candidate,” said Anna, still whispering. “Unusual in what way?” “His attire is a little odd, and he’s…he’s kind of a giant.” Mr Beck chuckled to himself. Anna was prone to exaggeration, and being a tiny woman, everyone seemed big to her. The first time he’d met her, her first words were, “My goodness, you’re huge!” At 5’10, 225lbs of pretty solid muscle, Tom certainly wasn’t small, but huge was a word he would not have applied to himself. “Go ahead and send him in, Anna.” “Ok, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Tom stood up at his desk as his office door opened. Even with Anna’s warning, he was not quite prepared for what he was seeing. The young man walking thru the doorway had to turn almost sideways to fit his vast shoulder spread into the room. Tom sized him up at a good 6’6” and at least 350lbs of muscle. He came across the room and extended his hand to shake with Tom. “Hello, Mr Beck. I’m Marcus.” As they shook, Marcus’s hand engulfed Tom’s with his beefy palm and sausage sized fingers. “Hello Marcus. Have a seat.” Marcus sat down, and made the office chair he was in look like it came from an elementary school. He was wearing a short-sleeved white dress shirt and black pants. He had a narrow black tie on, but it was loosened, and his top collar button was undone, giving his 24” neck some freedom to show. His huge arms strained the short sleeves, and his big chest strained the shirt buttons. His thighs stretched the gabardine fabric of his pants till it looked thin and shiny. His shirt pocket had a pocket protector in it. He looked like a monster nerd. Tom picked up Marcus’s resume and looked it over, giving himself some time to compose himself. He realized how Anna must feel around people so much bigger than her. It is intimidating just being in their presence. He saw that Marcus had graduated top of his class, and had been captain of his college’s weightlifting squad for all four years. “As you know,” Tom started, “we are a small marketing company representing mostly sportswear businesses and supplement companies, along with some gym franchises and weightlifting wholesalers. It helps to have a sports or fitness background when dealing with our clients. You certainly look like you keep yourself…fit.” Marcus laughed. “Does it show?” he said, then bounced his pecs under his white cotton shirt. “Geezus,” stammered Tom. “I gotta ask, Marcus, just how much do you weigh?” “385lbs this morning,” Marcus answered. Then he flexed his arms into a double biceps shot. The sleeves of his shirt got pushed back as his peaks rose up and up. As they swelled higher, both sleeves ripped. “Damn,” said Marcus. “another shirt ruined. Guess that’s what happens when your arm pass twenty-four inchs, Mr Beck. You like?” Marcus knew muscle lust when he saw it in someone’s eyes, and he was going to milk it to the max. “Holy….”said Tom. “Yep,” smirked Marcus. “ And they just keep on getting bigger. You wanna see my chest, Mr Beck?” Marcus stood up, his huge frame seeming to fill the office. “Why don’t you come over and unbutton my shirt?” Marcus undid his tie and tossed it aside. Tom knew he shouldn’t. He knew. But he stood up anyway, his heart pounding hard. He couldn’t stop himself. He was mesmerized by so much muscle mass right in front of him. He made his way around his desk. Marcus turned to face him, towering over him. “Go ahead,” said Marcus, thrusting his massive chest outward. As Tom reached up for a shirt button, his forearms grazed along the white fabric, feeling the solidness of the protruding pec slabs underneath. He undid one button, then another. The shirt had no choice but to spread open wide, and Tom could see a tattoo on the massive young man’s chest. He undid a third button, and the shirt opened up enough for Tom to see a big “ALPHA” tattoo, all in black ink, across Marcus’s upper chest. Marcus smiled as he saw Mr Beck soaking in his tat, and his swole chest. “Sixty-eight inches of chest and lats, Mr Beck.” He reached down and unbuttoned the remaining buttons, and spread his shirt open, exposing his powerful roidgut. Even though swollen and rounding out, his abs still showed through his tight skin. Marcus flexed his gut muscles and made the ridges deepen around his thick 8-pack. “Oh my god,” said Tom, as he stepped back and leaned against his desk. “Am I ‘fit’ enough?” asked Marcus. “Not too bulked for ya?” “No, no, not at all.” “Here, help me take my shirt off, I’m in the middle of my bulk, so it’s getting harder to maneuver this mass.” “Holy…” said Tom. He walked over behind the massive Marcus and reached up to his collar and started pulling it down. They both struggled to work Marcus out of his shirt, and Tom looked in awe as more and more of the massive landscape of rolling muscle was exposed on Marcus’s huge back. Finally free of his shirt, Marcus shook out his torso, and his muscle seemed to expand even more, and filling the office with the musky scent of testosterone. Tom was able to get his first look at Marcus’s backside. His huge glutes were mounded thick and high, making his dress pants tight as a drum. “God,” said Tom. He put one hand on Marcus’s big back to steady himself. “You ok, Mr Beck?” “You’re hired,” said Tom, feeling just how hard and thick the man’s back was. “What was that?” “You’re hired,” he repeated. “Yeah? Just like that? You haven’t even seen my legs yet.” And with that, Marcus turned to face Tom and began flexing his quads inside his dress pants. The fabric stretched so tightly that Tom could see the veins running up and down Marcus’s huge thighs. “Let’s talk about my salary,” Marcus said. And he flexed hard enough that front of his pant legs started to tear down the middle. “I’ll double it,” stammered Tom, staring at the pants as the swelling quad muscle pushed its way out. “That’s what I like to hear,” said Marcus. Then he shredded his pant legs with his huge muscles. Then he forced his big roidgut out, and the buckle on his dress belt snapped apart like a cheap plastic toy. He then sucked his gut into a deep vacuum pose, and his pants slid down his 37 inch quads and onto his shoes, exposing the black poser he’d been wearing underneath. He stepped out of his Italian loafers and what was left of his pants. “You’re looking a little pale, Mr B,” said Marcus. “If you think I’m big now, just wait until I’m well over 400lbs.” Then he started posing, hitting flex after flex, turning and showing Tom his back double bi, his lat spread, then turning back around and hitting side chest shot, then a most-muscular. Tom gasped at each pose, and his left eye was twitching as he watched the superheavyweight new hire swell with size. “Speaking of which,” said Marcus, continuing to flex, “I’m going to need a pretty big office…” “You can have this one,” said Tom. “That’s mighty big of ya, Mr B. You know, you look pretty jacked up yourself. I used to be as little as you, but then I graduated high school.” Marcus moved toward Tom, until his huge chest was only an inch away from, and level with, Tom’s face. “Suck my nipples, Bossman.” Tom didn’t need to be told twice. He went to work on the big nip jutting out of the huge pec. He put his hands on the bigger man’s pumpkin-sized delts, feeling the thin sheen of sweat coating the rock hard muscle. He sucked and sucked on one nipple till it was engorged. Then he moved to the other side. “Ah, yeah, you got a hot mouth, Bossman. I knew it the minute I walked in here. We’re going to make a great team.” Marcus pulled his new boss mouth off his teat, and went and picked up the chair he’d been sitting in earlier. He wedged the top of the chair underneath the doorknob of the office door. “But first, we’re going to break in my new office,” he said, stepping out of his poser and snapping it at Tom like a rubber band. It hit him in the face, and Tom held it there, breathing in the musk. He reached over and hit his intercom button. “Anna,” he said, “hold all my calls for….” He looked at Marcus. “The next two hours,” said the naked bulked superheavyweight.
Gym Daddy Bryan walked through the double doors of the gym that Monday evening. It was day one of his six-day workout week. Bryan had a desk job that put him behind a cubicle for a reputable pharmaceutical company for eight hours a day, and getting to the gym was cathartic for him. He scanned his app at the gym counter and proceeded to the men’s locker rooms. Bryan had been working out for six days a week for the better part of three years. With proper diet and steady work, he’d built quite an impressive body for himself. He prided himself on being all natural. Still, at age 28 and only 180 lbs., he was fairly strong for someone his age and weight. Once in the locker room, he changed into his gym wear, quickly shedding his usual polo and khaki pants for Under Armour shorts and a tank that showed off his nice build. Bryan took out his shaker cup and pre-workout from his bag. He mixed a couple of scoops into the cold water from the water fountain nearby, chugged the watermelon-berry flavored mix, secured his bag and proceeded out to the gym floor. This would be his normal routine for quite some time. “Hey Bryan, can you stay over a bit? Monica is still on maternity leave, and I need help finishing this project.” Bryan realized that staying over time with his boss would be more money, but would mess up his normal gym going time. The gym was open until midnight, so he would still have some time. Bryan agreed to work the extra time, and would just go after work. The project was simple. Vials of a new type of testosterone were to be delivered to a Hormone Replacement Therapy warehouse. The formula, imported from the middle east, was reported to have stronger effects than that of regular testosterone. The clinical trials had been tested on mice with positive results. Bryan had seen these types of “new” products all the time. They change one ingredient, market it as a “2.0” type of deal and then sell it for a higher price. Oh well, he would still get paid. He finished boxing up the last of the vials and turn to leave when his foot hit two vials on the floor. Bryan checked the box to make sure his count was correct. Something about the shiny blue liquid in the vials caught his eye, and when his boss had his back turned, Bryan scooped them up and placed them in his pocket. If he was off, he could just replace them during the next shipment. That evening it would be around 8:30 when Bryan finally arrived the gym. The entire clientele had changed. Usually, there were many professionals there during the earlier hours...single mothers taking spin and body pump classes, computer tech nerds who would utilize the personal training room, and a few college kids here and there. The weights would be normally empty so Bryan could get in and get out rather quickly. Tonight, however, was not the case. At this time, there were the bodybuilder types getting in their second workout of the day, the meat heads who would “bro” them to death trying to get the secret to who their steroid dealer was, or secretly lust after them. Bryan stayed to himself. Some of the muscle studs were hot, but since they weren’t Bryan’s usual crowd, he hesitated to say anything to them. “Hey man, you busy? Can you spot me?”, came a deep voice from behind Bryan. Bryan turned around and his mouth almost fell to the floor. Behind him was a bald black man, had to be no taller than 5’10” and a tank. Everything on him look pumped, like an off-season bodybuilder. His muscled chest protruding through his painted on t-shirt, his four blocky abs visible through his shirt. The massive vein in his biceps snaked down to his forearms, as the big slabs sat resting on his thick lats. The man was truly massive. He had to weigh 250 lbs. His face was kind of weathered though. “Name’s Freddie”, said the old tank. “Bryan”, said the 20 something trying desperately to keep his eyes from drifting downwards towards the protruding crotch no more than one foot from him. “Can you give me a spot? I’m turning 52 in a week and I can’t push the big weights around like I used to.” “Sure”, said Bryan. Bryan thought to himself, ‘he must have been a beast in his hay day, but time catches up to everyone I guess.’ Bryan prepared himself to help spot maybe 215lbs...275 at the most. Stepping to the bar, Bryan counted four plates on each side. That was 405 lbs. He couldn’t bench that much. Hell, he didn’t know many people that could. Freddie got under the bar, and said “lift off on three”. “1...” “2...” “3”, and after a sharp intake of breath, and a jerk from Bryan, Freddie held the bar over his chest, slowly lowered it down, then pushed it back up for one rep, then another...and then another. After eight reps, he lowered it to his chest, and roared a primal roar that made pre-cum leak from Bryan. Luckily his shorts were black. After two more grueling reps, Freddie racked the bar with a clang that echoed throughout the entire gym. “Wow”, stammered Bryan, that was incredible. Freddie looked and smiled. “Thanks man. I’m trying to battle age, but it’s a hard thing to beat. Thanks for spotting me. Are you in here often? I don’t see you a lot.” “No”, said Bryan. “I’m usually here during the earlier part of the day. But if you ever need a spot, I can start coming a little later in the day. It’s no big deal.” “Thanks man” With that, Bryan continued his own workout. He watched the old man continue to bench with drop sets, and then move on to another exercise. Bryan noticed that Freddie did full body workouts. Despite his older age, Freddie’s muscles seemed to carry a bloated pump. Bryan paced himself in order to finish right around the same time. As he headed back to the lockers, he saw the big man posing in the mirror, his frame pulsing and writhing with mature muscle. “You like what you see, boy?”, came Freddie’s deep voice. Bryan quickly moved to his locker, but the old man, still shirtless, came over to where he was. “I could tell you had a thing for this muscle since your boner almost smacked me in the face during my bench press. Why don’t you come help an old man clean up back at the house? I’ll let you pin me after I shower. It’s time for my HRT this week anyway.” Bryan could barely contain himself, and as he changed into his gym gear, he heard the faint clank of the two glass vials still in his pants pocket... Turns out Freddie lived not too far from the gym. Years in the US Marines had shaped his body, but now retired, he served as security for a reputable casino on a Native American population. Living near the desert away from Los Angeles, Freddie was able to afford a really nice house. As Bryan pulled in the driveway of the two story house. Following Freddie inside, was a really nice layout. His military retirement didn’t go unnoticed. In the kitchen were marble countertops lined with supplements. Freddie offered Bryan a seat and disappeared into his bedroom. The master bedroom was on the bottom floor...presumably because of Freddie’s age thought Bryan. Within a few moments, Freddie returned with a syringe and a bottle. Here’s the test they prescribe for me. Draw 2 ccs and pin the right cheek. Then we can get to know each other better. Bryan went into the kitchen to grab a paper towel and some alcohol. While his back was to Freddie, he drew 1 cc of the blue liquid into the syringe. He then drew the 2 ccs of Freddie’s HRT, recapped the needle and walked back over. Freddie had turned and presented his muscular ass to Bryan. “Pin daddy, boy”, he growled. Bryan rubbed the alcohol soaked paper towel over the skin, and plunged the needle in, emptying its contents. As he finished the syringe, he heard a low moan come from Freddie. After clotting the injection site, Freddie turned around and grabbed Bryan by the back of the head, forcing his mouth on his dick. Bryan began to suck Freddie for all he was worth. Freddie’s fat cock was veiny and at least eight inches hard. The organ was engorged with blood, making it extremely heavy and powerful. With Freddie’s added power, Bryan’s throat was getting a thorough pounding, but he was skilled, and soon Freddie erupted down his throat. After licking his new muscle daddy clean, Bryan made his way back to his car, and headed home to get some sleep for work the next day. --- Tomorrow would be no different for Bryan. He would finish up at work, file some extra work and finish some extra projects, and then head to the gym at his new later time. Freddie was already in the gym when he got there, but he seemed bigger. He now wore a sleeveless shirt and a pair of gym shorts that hugged the middle of his monstrous thigh. He was going through his full body workout, at the bench press but no spot, and just re-racking what seemed like 455lbs. Bryan was in awe. Freddie gave Bryan a large bear hug when he saw him. Too Bryan’s surprise Freddie had just completed his fourth set of 455lbs. His chest and arms looked completely pumped. “Ummm Freddie?” “Call me sir, boy. Don’t make me punish you again.” “Sorry, sir. How much do you weigh?” “It was the weirdest thing boy. I weighed 275lbs. this morning and felt strong as an ox. Ate like one too. I suppose I should let you give me that blue stuff more often.” Freddie winked at Bryan, and Bryan felt sick. Freddie had seen him, and realized the potency of the solvent. After the workout was finished, Bryan was back at Freddie’s house yet again. Freddie would have him pin him, fuck his mouth, and then send him home. Each of the days, Bryan would mix 1cc of the blue liquid with the HRT that Freddie was prescribed. Each day Freddie would show up looking bigger, and more massive. By the end of the week, Freddie weighed a whopping 360 lbs. of jacked muscle. Friday came and went, and Bryan had just finished up his job. He’d actually gotten off of work early, but waited faithfully before entering the gym. Freddie had so much domination over Bryan, that he would actually sit in his car and wait for Freddie to walk in the gym before him. Saturday, the old man was situated in the middle of the gym. Today he was wearing only some lycra spandex shorts, similar to what Kai Greene would wear...and some lifting shoes. At 390lbs., his insane bulge was fighting for air, while his naked torso was exposed leaving mountainous pecs, traps to his ears, boulder shoulders, arms that could barely bend anymore, and a bulbous muscle gut. His legs waddling over each other with every step he took. His back was so wide; it actually hid the entire gym worker who had been trying to talk Freddie into at least putting on a shirt. The workout was brief today, partly because Bryan kept having to hide his massive boner after seeing the powerful display that was his gym daddy. As usual after the workout, Bryan went to Freddie’s house. This time it would be different. Freddie didn’t take the HRT mixture tonight. It was the remainder of the blue liquid from the vial that Bryan had. After Bryan administered it, Freddie turned around and placed a chain around his neck with a lock. “You belong to me now boy. You’re my muscle boy now.” Instead of feeling a sense of capture, Bryan felt a sense of pride. His gym daddy was possibly the most muscular human on the planet. “Order us some food boy. Then come clean daddy.” Bryan ordered several large pizzas to be delivered. The app said about 45-55 minutes, so that would be time to clean his muscle daddy from head to toe. Once in the bathroom, Bryan was commanded to wipe the ass of the muscle bull, as he could no longer reach nor had the flexibility. Then once in the shower, Bryan dutifully cleaned and washed Freddie, feeling the pulsating muscles. At one point Bryan could swear the muscles were actually growing under his touch, but that couldn’t be possible. Once dried off and back in the living room, Freddie sat on the recliner and spread his mammoth legs open; his 15-inch dick hung over the seat cushions waiting at attention. Bryan knelt and began sucking the large monolith when the doorbell rang. “It’s open!” bellowed the black giant. Bryan dared not stop sucking the massive cock as the pizza delivery boy (thank goodness it was a male) stepped in. “Ummmm, where do you want these, sir?”, said the delivery guy. He couldn’t be more than 25 years old. “Bring em here and feed them to me.” “Ummm sir, I’m still on the clock—“ “That wasn’t a request boy!” As if possessed, the pizza guy walked over with an open box, and proceeded to feed Freddie slice after slice, which the older man gobbled down. Bryan could swear his muscle daddy was growing with each bite; his mouth being further molested by the growing obelisk. After two boxes, Freddie signaled to stop and tipped the boy, Bryan still sucking for his life. Moments later Freddie erupted down Bryan’s throat. As Bryan began to dislodge the cum splattered dick from his throat and stand up, he suddenly felt a vice grip on his quads. The huge hands encircling them were Freddie’s hands. Bryan looked to see that Freddie was immediately hard again. Using a free hand, Freddie grabbed Bryan’s boxers and ripped them away like tissue paper. Freddie then lifted Bryan like a toy over his pulsing cock. Bryan couldn’t help but notice the snakelike veins pulsing over Freddie’s body, sending blood to pump his growing muscles even more. Freddie’s eyes were now glazed over; the only thing on his mind was fuck. As his dick entered Bryan’s waiting hole, Bryan screamed at how thick his invader was, stretching him inch by inch until the 17 inch pole was completely swallowed and Bryan’s throbbing ass cheeks were kissing the hilt. As the older muscle god moved Bryan up and down on his cock like a sex toy, Bryan held on for dear life. Freddie then stood up with Bryan impaled on his dick. Bryan thought he was taller than before... Counter after counter, room after room, tables, couches, floors...Freddie fucked Bryan until the 28 year old cried in pleasure and pain, asking daddy to show mercy. After Freddie came six more times within Bryan’s ass, he popped the young stud off of his dick and keeping him on all fours, wrapped his meaty paw within the chain around Bryan’s neck, holding him there like a pup on a leash. Freddie “walked” his pup into the bathroom and stepped on his industrial scale. “Read it to me boy. Daddy’s pecs are too big”. It was true. Freddie could barely look past his chest. “485lbs. sir”, “said Bryan, proud that his gym daddy...no just his daddy...was the biggest most muscular man in the world. At the moment, he felt a sharp tug at the chain around his neck and blacked out. What seemed like hours later, Bryan regained his consciousness and found he was on the California King bed inside the master bedroom...Bryan noticed his ass was stretched wider, but felt full. An even larger cock was stuffed inside, consistently spewing cum. The behemoth underneath even larger than moments ago breathing and causing Bryan’s entire mass to rise up and down in synchronicity with the breath. Bryan gazed to the right and saw his pants on the dresser, and on the nightstand, a bottle of the blue liquid that was nearly gone. “That’s right boy. Daddy found the other bottle. When I last stepped on the scale it broke. Damn thing was only meant for 650 lbs. anyway, which means I’m a freak, and I’m still growing. But I don’t wanna break my boy, so I left three doses for you so you will be able to at least survive the fucks. You’ll move in here, be my muscle-boy, lift with me, be prepared to take my dick at least three times a day, and clean me daily while I flex and pump bigger. In return, I’ll fill you with my seed, fuck you senseless, feed you so you can grow bigger, and let you worship my muscles. This isn’t a request boy.” “Yes daddy,” said Bryan as he licked the massive nipple of his daddy’s chest and awaited the prick of the needle in his skin. Maybe he could sneak out another bottle or two during the next shipment. His daddy always had room to grow...
Second, we have Hwang Chul-Soon on video. (This is now updated for your pleasure.)