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  1. kurisupei

    A Donation From Big Bro

    Happy New Year, growers! Here's a new story that I wrote, probably the longest one. I took inspiration from "The Lockerroom Thief" by CockTFBoi. I hope you find this good. If this gets good reviews, I'll add pictures. Without further ado, here it is. A Donation From Big Bro Having been left by their father since they were kids, half-brothers Jason and Blake grew up separately. Jason, 26, the older of the two, chose to leave the house 10 years ago to try and live independently. Meanwhile Blake, 18, the younger brother, was left to grow up with his mother. Jason got a small job when he left and when he had his first pay, he invested in a gym membership. His investment obviously paid off. Seeming to have gotten some of the best genes, he grew up to be 6'2 and 260 lbs of muscle. His body, partnered with his chiseled face, tan skin, and jet black hair could really make many heads turn whenever he walks by. Blake on the other hand, chose to focus more on his studies. In fact, he just finished high school and is now an incoming college freshman. After moving in his dorm and unpacking, he lied down and scrolled on social media and that's when he saw it, his older brother's profile. He looked through Jason's photos and he was wowed by how his brother looked. At 5'5 and 130 lbs, he was nowhere near the looks of his brother. They do look alike but besides their body, Blake's wavy brown hair separates the two. Blake continued scrolling on Jason's profile and he discovered that Jason is now a personal trainer and is actually the owner of the gym near his college campus. Blake put some thought into it and decided that he wanted to turn his body around in college, he wanted to be the heartthrob of the campus. Jason was about to sleep when his phone suddenly vibrated. He checked and saw that someone had messaged him. He immediately recognized the name and photo, it's his little brother and he wants to meet with him. Tomorrow morning came and Blake was nervous as he's about to meet his older brother after 10 years. He looked around and saw huge figure of a man. The man was wearing sweatpants paired with a tank top. His shoulders were wide, his arms defined, his back tapering into a V shape, his legs shaped like boulders. "J-Jason?" Blake called. The man looked behind him and down at Blake. Blake was met with the man's portruding pecs. It was Jason. "Blake? Hey little bro. Wow, you've really grown, young man!" Jason said to his brother. "I can say the same thing to you. Wow, you're huge, man!" Blake replied. "Thanks man, I've put a lotta work into this body" Jason said, flexing his biceps in front of his brother. "So why did you want to meet after all this years?" Jason followed. "I want to be built and jacked, and I think you're the one that can help me." Blake answered, touching his thin arms. "Well, I'm flattered, little man..." Jason smirks. "So, what do you say?" Blake followed up. "Let’s make you huge, lil bro!" Jason exclaimed. Jason really stayed true to his word. He began training Blake intensively. To Blake's surprise, he started gaining weight and really noticed changes happening on his body. After training for 6 months, his weight went from 130 lbs to 150. He saw his abs being visible, his chest starting to portrude, his bicep having a bump. Blake enjoyed these changes. One night after training, Jason and Blake went to the shower room, going into separate cubicles. They were both pumped after working out and Blake was really feeling his body. But Blake wanted to see how Jason looks, so he peeked into Jason's cubicle as Jason was busy showering. Blake saw Jason's wide V tapered back leading down his ass, but the biggest treat was when he saw what was at front. Jason turned, eyes closed, and Blake saw his thick, monstrous 10 inch cock. Blake immediately felt his own cock harden. Blake couldn't help it, he took a picture of his view of Jason and went back to his cubicle. The brothers finished showering. Blake put some shorts on and before he put on a shirt, he flexed a bit in front of the mirror, admiring his progress. Jason enters the room to change, with only a towel on his waist, when he sees Blake flexing. "Feels great huh? Seeing your progress in the mirror." Jason says while smiling. "Yeah but now with you beside me, damn I'm dwarfed." Blake answers. "You'll get there lil bro." Jason says while raising an arm into a bicep pose. Jason flexes his other arm, posing a double bicep. He puts them down and proceeded to flex a couple more poses. Meanwhile Blake can't help but stare at his brother, admiring his frame. Jason sees Blake staring and he smiled. "It's okay bro, you can touch." Jason says to his staring brother. Blake almost instantly reaches for his brother's pecs, feeling the size of it in his small hands. Blake can't help but let out a sigh of amazement. His hands then move to Jason's rounded shoulders, going to his biceps. "Chest is 58 inches, biceps are 24 inches." Jason proudly states, flexing them. He then raises his towel a bit. "Calves 21 inches, Thighs 30 inches" He adds. Jason feels his ego rise, with his little brother admiring his body that he put a lot of effort into. He flexes his abs while Blake rubs his hands on the rock-hard surface, feeling the crevices. Jason turns around, flexing his wide back, tapering into a V-shape. Blake touches the wall-like back of his brother. Blake feels himself getting aroused and his cock starts to harden. He almost let out a moan, but he suppressed it upon realizing. He becomes afraid his brother will see so he stopped and put his shirt on. "I need to go, I gotta pack for the winter break." Blake blurts out. "See you in two weeks, I guess?" He says. "Actually, make that a month. I'll be going out of the country to collaborate with other gym influencers" Jason answers. "Oh, okay then..." Blake says back. "Continue your workouts huh lil bro. I don't want you getting smaller when I get back." Jason cockily teases as Blake leaves. Blake gets home to his dorm, taking his shorts off and letting his hard 4 inch cock out. He takes out his phone and opens the photos he took earlier, looking at his brother’s huge body and monstrous cock. He begins stroking his cock, feeling more and more aroused as he zooms in on his big bro. "Ughhh Jason fuck" He moans. He begins touching his body sensually, making his breaths heavier. He imagines his big bro's enormous pecs, larger-than-grapefruit biceps, washboard abs. He feels himself get closer and closer. "Ughhh sh- shit" "Oh fuck uh- huge" "Ugh ughh" "oH- UGHHHNN!" With a wave of pleasure, he cums. His cum shoots everywhere. "Ughh uhh" Blake moans and breathes heavily. He then passes out. That's when he realizes, he wants Jason's size. He wants his height. He wants his body, from his strong arms, thick legs, to his heavily muscled torso. He wants all of Jason to himself. Immediately, he went looking for a way to gain what he wants to take. He searched books and the web and after three days, he found one. He got it and he was excited to make his fantasies real. But in the meantime, he followed what Jason told him and he continued his workouts extensively. He chased for growth. Finally, a month has passed. Blake was excited to see Jason again. He was thrilled to show how consistent he has been. In a month, he added about 10 lbs. Not just that, being in his teenage years, he grew an inch in height, making him 5'6 and 140 lbs. He might not be as big and lean as his brother, but he is filling out his frame quite nicely. His chest now pushes out his shirt, his abs more fuller looking, and his biceps now fit his sleeves perfectly. But beyond all of that, he was excited for his plan. He knew that in a short period of time, his biggest desire will be reality. Blake went to the gym before the sun could rise. He knew that Jason has arrived and that he would be working out. Blake was right, he saw his brother right away. Jason was even bigger than last time, making Blake want him more. "Hey Jason" Blake greeted. "Hey lil bro! Long time no see. Damn bro, you're filling out quite nicely." Jason greets back. "You're not getting any smaller either... By the way, I got us this sports drink." Blake gives his brother one. "Thanks bro, perfect timing, I'm about to start my workout." Jason takes a few sips and went on to start his workout. "Great, I'll join you then." Blake drinks his own sports drink and grins, following Jason to the weightroom. Jason starts doing push-ups for warm-up. As he approaches 30 reps, he started feeling off. He felt a strange sensation throughout his body, kinda like the feeling when having an orgasm. "Ughh- oh" Jason groans as he stops his push-ups and falls to the ground. "Hey, you okay, big bro?" Blake asked. "I'm fine, I think it's just my amount of sleep catching up on me." Jason answered unsure. "Here, drink up." Blake handed Jason's sports drink to him. Blake made sure Jason drank of all of it, grinning as he does so. "Alright then, let's help you get bigger. Let's do bench press." Jason said to Blake. "Careful with this one, lil bro" Jason loaded 155 lbs plates on the bar and spotted Blake. Blake lifted it and did 10 reps with it. "Too easy!" he said. Jason was surprised. "My turn, little man!" Jason said, loading 460 lbs on the bar. Jason lifted the bar and started repping. As he was doing so, his mind was flooded with sexual images. He started to get turned on. "Ughhh" Jason started to moan and groan with every breath everytime the bar descends. He feels his cock getting hard so he put the bar back into place. "H-hold on a little" Jason stood up, and went to the locker room to avoid Blake from seeing his hard-on. But blake already noticed it, he smirked. Jason went into the locker room, his mind all over the place. He feels so sensitive. All that's in his mind makes him wanna orgasm. Little does he know, Blake's the one behind it. Blake followed into the locker room and saw Jason. "Hey big bro, what's going on? Come on let's continue." Blake said to his brother. "Blake, oh uhm. I- I'm just..." Jason explains, trying to cover his hard-on. Blake gets closer to Jason. "Come on big bro..." Blake said, touching the tent on Jason's shorts. "Ughhhh" Jason lets out a whimper. Jason doesn't understand what he's feeling, he's not gay, but what Blake is doing is really turning him on. Blake took Jason's shirt off and started lowering Jason's shorts. "You want to help me get bigger, right?" Blake said to his brother. "Y-yes" Jason staggeringly answers. "Good, bro" Blake said as he takes Jason's shorts off, revealing Jason's hardened masculinity, growing into 11 inches. Without any warning, Blake put Jason's cock in his mouth, making him moan. Blake started sucking, working his way on Jason's cock. Jason can no longer suppress his moans. Jason feels this sinking feeling as he nears his orgasm. The pleasure was wild and he feels closer and closer as Blake moves up and down his shaft. A shudder ran down his body and his balls start churning. "Ughhhh fuuu-" Jason cums. Blake made sure to swallow every bit of it as it shoots hard into his mouth. Jason was overwhelmed with pleasure. He fell into the bench behind him, eyes closed. Blake felt himself get taller, he felt his limbs extending and his view getting higher. As his body gets lengthier, the bulk he had put on disappears, his muscles adjusting into his body. Meanwhile, the opposite happens to Jason. He feels his spine shorten and retract. With that, his muscles enlarge, adjusting to his shortening frame. His pecs and arms bulged out, his legs grew thicker. "Wh-what did you do to me?" Jason said upon opening his eyes and seeing his short frame. "You helped me grow, isn't that what we wanted?" Blake answered. "Y-yes" Jason said, but he felt something was wrong. Seeing his brother's enlarged muscles made Blake more and more excited, so he proceeded to the next step. "I'm gonna get so massive with what we will be doing." He said. Blake lays Jason down the bench and grabbed his brother's still hard cock. He rode it and lowered himself onto it. Blake moved up and down, filling Jason with pleasure. Jason's cock started to spew pre-cum. Blake's body started reacting to it. He felt his body start to swell with muscle. Blake touched Jason's hard pecs and squeezed it as he bounces on his cock. Blake feels his body expand outward as he absorbs more of Jason's precum. His pecs start to form, his biceps tensing into a ball, his abs forming crevices. Jason feels Blake get heavier. "Fuck I'm gonna cum again- ohhh!" Jason finally shoots his load inside Blake. Jason's bulk slowly shrank into him. His biceps slowly thinned out, his treetrunk legs became weak, his torso got drained of its size, his chest on which Blake is grabbing on to lowered slowly from being mountains to a flat surface. "Ohhh fuck- ughh!" Blake can't help but groan as he feels his body fill up. He flexes a double bicep pose as his arms expand into mounds of rock. Meanwhile his legs got thicker and thicker, proportioning into his new height. His pecs grow into boulders, rivaling melons, he touches them and squeezes them. "Fuck, yes!" Blake exclaims as he poses his muscles. He went to the scale and measured his height and weight. "6'4 and 270 lbs, damn. Only one thing left." Blake says to himself as he gets back to Jason. Blake stands Jason up and turns him around. "Hey bro, just one last thing and we're done." Blake said to Jason's ear, caressing Jason's cock in his hand. Jason's cock immediately springs back up to life. Jason whimpers as he feels pleasure build up with Blake stroking his cock. While doing so, Blake slides his 4 incher into Jason's hole. Jason moans as intense pleasure fills hin again, but he can't cum. "You're gonna help me grow right?" Blake says. "Y-yes, anything for you ugh-" Jason answered. "Even my cock?" Blake follows up. "Yes, take it. Take my fucking cock." As pre-cum comes out of Jason's cock, Blake feels it slowly dwindle into his hand while his own cock grows and more and more enters Jason's ass. Blake starts thrusting, making Jason feel more pleasure, all as he strokes Jason's cock. Blake's cock grows and grows inside Jason, going into 12 inches. Jason's, however, retracted into Blake's hand, it shrank into 3 inches. "Ughh, please Blake... I need to cum" Jason whimpers. "Not until I do. Ughhh!" Blake cums into Jason's ass the largest he has ever cum. "Ughhh- shi- ughh!" Jason moans as he experiences being cummed in the ass for the first time. The two brothers experience their greatest orgasm, but one while experiencing his fantasy and one while experiencing loss. Jason shoots cum from his now 3 incher, moaning and passing out in the process. Blake pulls out his brother and admires his new 12 incher shooting more load on his passed out brother. He flexes on the mirror he once flexed on with his brother a month ago, but now being the superior one. "Thanks for the donation... little bro." He said as he leaves his brother in the locker room.
  2. anondog

    Hulking Husband

    Author's note: So basically I wrote a little story about the incredible hulk told in a first person perspective. Just the typical growth thing. I posted it to the discord and one of the Mods encouraged me to post it to the forum as well, so here it is. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- PART 1: We were both working late at night in the lab. It was storming out and rain could be heard outside. I was a medical researcher and pseudo nurse for our government funded agency and you were another research working with certain chemicals to make a super soldier. Although we were paid well, we were still on overtime and having a coffee break over our rut with the new chemicals. During coffee we chatted about our personal lives and plans. Although we didn't say it, there was a spark and a bit of a mutual crush going on. You accidentally spilled fresh hot coffee on yourself, because of our ramping exciting banter. I help dress the burn wound on your hand and we lock eyes with each other. A bull necked general comes in and barks that its time to get back to work. We begrudgingly get back to our stations. You are mixing chemicals in a flask, while I am doing theory crafting on a white board. The broad shouldered general continues barking down our throats and breathing down our necks. We are short staffed and the only ones here, with him as our supervisor. He tells you to speed it up and shoves you before making his way over to me. Chemicals spill onto where you were burned with coffee. Something about the chemicals, the stressful atmosphere, the coffee even, made you turn. You hunched over and began groaning. Slowly you put on more and more size, you're skin turning jade green. The general backed away slowly his mouth wide open. You legs grew first, calves becoming rock hard and massive diamonds. Your quads and hams beefed up so much that you would put Olympic cyclists to shame. Then your back packed on slabs and slabs of muscle. Your back made you resemble the wideness of a king cobra. Your abs grew in slowly at first. Rising to the slowly to the surface like ice in a vat of water, before exploding to the surface of your skin, shortly followed by your pecs which had the same growth process. They swelled and ballooned which caused you to growl. The last thing that grew was your soon to be might arms. I couldn't measure them with my eyes but they had the general's beat by a landslide. We were both there in awe and terror. You flexed your arms in a most muscular that tore off the remainder of your lab coat with a mighty tearing sound. You looked at the general and growled, rushing him, as he pulled out his gun and fired at you. The bullets made contact with you skin and at first dented it, like a child poking holes into play dough, however the bullets didn't penetrated you skin. I could tell it stung and that made you even more irritated. The general continued firing, but now the bullets didn't even dent your skin because of how dense and thick your muscles were. Thanks to your new height you were upon him immediately; the muscle in your legs and size of your stride made you close the distance incredibly quickly. You ripped the guns from his hand and crushed it in your hand so quickly and easily there was a horrendous sound of screeching metal and heat coming off of the now paper weight sized fire arm. You then picked the general up surprisingly gently into a hug. He whimpered and pleaded for you not to hurt him. You smiled, your eyes with a green blaze. Slowly you increased the pressure of your bear hug, causing him to scream out, but soon his screams were muffled as you crushed him into your chest. You removed your arms and faced me with a satisfied look on your face, he was being slowly dragged, kicking and screaming into your body... merging and feeding your growth. I was overwhelmed but tried to process all that was happening... You locked eyes with me and I was too afraid to look away, however I already had my hand on the exit door. You raised your hand and pointed at the general that was about 25% merged into you and kicking and screaming, albeit muffled. You tensed your body and he couldn't move, and when you relaxed it he was dragged deeper inside of your slowly growing muscles. I looked at the process in horror as you repeated it several times and then had a a satisfied grin on your face. After merging with our supervisor you had a grin akin to someone who had a hearty meal and rubbed your massive hand across your abs and pecs as if to show off that he was gone. You still had smirk on your face as you sauntered over to me, swagger in your step, with your foot steps thundering and crushing the ground beneath them. You didn't roar, you didn't growl, you didn't say anything. You simply crouched down to be at eye level with me. I was afraid I was going to be absorbed next and my heart raced as you were face to face with me. You leaned in and inhaled deeply and then exhaled. Your breath was hot and knocked me back a bit. I winched and you laughed a little. You knew I was completely under your thumb and control so there was no point in trying to intimidate me. You tore off my lab coat and sniffed it, before stuffing it into the pockets of your pants that somehow still survived this entire ordeal (albeit they were now purple). I was confused and then pieced together and asked if you were going to track me. You simply smiled. I reached for my lab coat and began crying. You kept me away gently and shushed me, you brought my hand onto where your coffee burn was and smiled. I fell to me knees. I didn't know how much of my old crush was in there, but enough was there to tell me I was safe. I would have to live knowing a monster was on the loose. You stood up and walked through the door way your head scraping against the 6'9'' frame. I heard your foot steps grow faster and more distant and the screech of gun fire in the distance. I got up and collected my thoughts. I had no idea what to do, but for now I would go home until you inevitability tracked me down.
  3. So I have come off my hiatus (mainly due to me completing my Master's thesis) to write this for the storyversary. I had a pandemic one planned for this year... before we had a pandemic. Much like my past storyversary entries, this one is based around current events, personal experience (both online and IRL), and literature I've read. I would love to hear your thoughts, as well as see if you can pick up the references I've made in this piece. ----- “Good morning Altimore. I’m Mike Armistand.” Lucas smiled as the screen on his tablet showed the extraordinarily handsome face of news anchor, Mike Armistand. His cleft chin covered in dark stubble. His dark brown hair perfectly gelled into place. A smoldering gaze coming from his deep green eyes. He looked perfect. “And I’m Farrah Enseher.” Lucas wasn’t as enthralled by her, but he knew most straight men were. Blonde, tanned, curvy, and stacked, just what any straight man would want. Even though Lucas was gay, he had to look at her, she is a woman. She deserves his attention. “And welcome to NewsSpeak, where the news speaks to you. In today’s top story, more protests surrounding the annual Dependence Day collections. Be careful out there today. The Montag Corporation Security Force will be out there today to ensure everything stays peaceful.” Lucas leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He could listen to Armistand talk about anything all day long. Even if it was about a bunch of those Nazis holding signs about bodily integrity and misanthropy, and other classist language. The Christian movement should have died out years ago. “You would have thought people would have learned from the election 64 years ago,” Lucas thought to himself, smiling. It was a good thought. Shifting his thought back to the deep and melodic voice of Mike, he couldn’t help but imagine the anchorman’s thick Adam's apple bobbing up and down his thick neck as he spoke the news. Even though the man was on the screen right in front of it, Lucas preferred to imagine it. With it being Dependence Day, he decided to imagine the airing of Mike Armistand’s Dependence Acceptance from years ago. The anchor, then reporter, wanted to broadcast the Dependence Acceptance process to show it was safe and that he could handle it. He even wore a suit into the Acceptance chamber. It was a change of utter magnificence. The whole world watched as the buttons on Mike’s suit buckled, then burst off, pinging against the walls of the chamber. Sleeves shredded over his now bountiful biceps and triceps. Lucas remembered just how enthralled he was watching Mike’s hand swallow more and more of the microphone he was holding. Just watching the sinews in his hand as it expanded was so exciting to him. The changes to his upper body were so pronounced that by the time the cameraman realized he needed to pan down, Mike’s tremendous thighs had already obliterated the black dress fabric. The remaining fabric clung to his crotch and around his calves. The changes obviously made him a bit unsteady. One step and flex of the calves tore the remainder of his pants off. Another step and his shoes burst open due to his much larger feet, needed to support his much larger body. Veins running over the top of them with thick meaty toes… Lucas shook his head. He knew he shouldn’t think of the feet. That’s not one of the things he was mandated to be allowed to be attracted to. No one could know he thought of big feet as attractive. Going outside your mandated range could get you labelled as a deplorable. He willed his mind’s eye back up the powerful legs of the transforming Mike to his crotch. The once well-fitted fabric was now bulging as his balls swelled with size and increased their testosterone production. The camera cut away to Mike’s chest before his cock flopped out from the broken zipper. Rumor has it that another camera caught it on video and now it is floating around on the deep old web. The current camera focused on the hair growing out over the newsman’s chest and now exposed abs. While it made him look quite hirsute, it was well known Mike kept it shaved pretty well to ‘keep his masculinity in check.’ The thing to change was his face. Once above average, his features grew bolder. His jaw widened to match his equally thick neck. His chin gained his now signature cleft. Thick stubble covered both of them. Meanwhile his cheekbones shifted higher and his brow lowered just slightly, giving him an intense, brooding look as his eyes changed from gray to a magnificent green. His hair didn’t change too much. It grew out some and darkened a bit, but just that little change seemed to change his whole demeanor. Once the changes seemed to stop, the nation held its breath, seeing if the selection process was true and that he could handle such masculinity. Mike reached down towards his crotch before smiling and bringing his bicep up into a flex, “You see folks,” his newly deepened voice said through sexual pants, “With the right person, masculinity can be wrangled into… submission.” And then the cameras cut out and Lucas’s imagination was over. “This stop is Markist Street,” the automated bus driver announced. Just in time, Lucas stood up to get off at his stop. The news was still playing in his Luco Vido airpods, or more commonly known as “SeaShells” given their shape. The name has changed many times, but the current nickname has been deemed appropriate by the Ministry of Culture. Though it had been a little over a year since the new nickname caught on, so someone was bound to find something bad about it soon, and a new, cooler nickname would be announced. He wasn’t listening to the news as actively as he was with Mike as Farrah droned on how several Midwest states had threatened to secede if they did not get proper representation soon in the electorate system. Lucas snapped to attention, realizing he hadn’t been listening to Farrah seriously, so he began to intently look at her words. “Why would anyone want to live in the Midwest anyway?” Farrah mocked and Lucas nodded, “Yeah why would anyone live there. There’s like nothing. And if they choose to live there, they shouldn’t complain. Plus we do so much for them, we know how things run there.” Lucas mused as he worked his way through the crowd, his tablet guiding him to avoid collisions with others. Finally he arrived at his destination, the O.R. Well’s building at the Ministry of Justice. He looked around and saw the protesters with their signs saying things like “Let Men be MEN,” “Not all masculinity is toxic,” and “Science says XY not X-.” Lucas couldn’t help but chuckle, “What would they know about science. They are Christian, they hate science.” He thought to himself, remembering how he was taught in biology class that testosterone was a natural driver of aggression and that it was a miracle humanity made it to where it is today without wrangling in the unruly testosterone driven males. Thanks to the invention of the Dependence and Acceptance processes, we have been able to keep men from becoming testosterone crazed, while still being able to reproduce. He could remember his father telling him of his 2-day Acceptance period where he became a 6’5” hulk of a man with a 13 inch penis filled to the brim with energy and sexual desire. He ravaged his mother until she was pregnant before having to be sedated and donating all his borrowed masculinity. Lucas shuddered at the thought, but a small part of him wanted to experience that. He shook that thought off, risking being seen thinking of such a thing, especially at the Ministry of Justice was dangerous. Lucas lost a little bit of focus as Mike Armistand’s voice came back through his head phones, “And remember to have a great Dependence Day, the future of our society depends on you. We will be back this evening with the news.” Distracted by the anchor’s tenor, Lucas walked head first into a pair of meaty pecs. Lucas looked up to see a tall, silver bearded man scowling down at him. “I’m sorry…” He squinty at the man’s nametag, “Officer Sal... Mander…?” It was one of the Montag Corporation’s security force. Their logo was clearly visible on the badge clinging to the man’s left pec. Plus Lucas could see Mander’s suppression aid holstered in his belt next to his submission aid hanging off his hip. Though, his eyes quickly wandered back up to the officer’s chest. The top few buttons were undone and he could see the silvery hair poking through the open flaps. “Watch where you are going, kid.” He grunted and moved past the smaller man, shoving him to the side a bit. Lucas wondered why those on the security force were allowed to hold masculinity. The traditional security force in Altimore, formerly known as the police, were disbanded years ago and company security forces were ushered in. They probably rehired the same policemen and had them put through intensive training or something. After the barbaric mob of the former police force was gone, Lucas wondered why even the security force was put in place. The danger of the police was gone. Lucas turned to watch Sal pepper spray some of the protesters as he walked into the building. “At least they are doing their job,” he mumbled to himself. Inside the building was relatively quiet. Lucas got in line behind a man who had clearly missed a few Dependence Days and looked rightfully nervous. His pecs and biceps twitched under his tight shirt and he kept looking around. Finally, they made it to the front of the line. Curious, Lucas took out one of his Seashells to listen in on the conversation. He had never seen someone this big at a Dependence Day donation before. “Name?” The modelesque receptionist asked, beaming an unnaturally white smile. “Uh… Steven Sands,” the bigger man said quietly. “Date of birth?” “July 9th, 2066” “Oh my, you just missed getting in on your first donation last year. Most line up so fast when they turn 18. You must have been so disappointed not to participate last year. Well I’m sure you are so excited to get rid of all those extra androgens.” Steven just shook his head nervously. “Well, we are a little backed up today. Some non-compliance. But I think we can get you bumped to the front as a lil birthday present. Don’t tell anyone though.” Steven was handed a ticket and escorted down a hall. It was Lucas’s turn now. “Name?” The receptionist repeated. “Lucas Atwood.” “Date of birth?” “June 8th, 2059.” “Okay, so we are a little backed up today. Some non-compliance is all. Oh shoot, I forgot to mention it to the other guy. The average testosterone level had risen by 19.84% so the donation process will take slightly longer to accommodate for the additional androgen collection.” “That’s alright. This was my plan for the day,” Lucas responded plainly. “Alright then, the parlor is just down that hall. An attendant will call you when a donation chamber becomes available.” Lucas took the ticket and headed towards the parlor. The room had wall-to-wall TV screens. All playing various news and entertainment channels. Finding a seat, he settled on the NewsSpeak channel, a different anchor now doing the midday news, Tony Burgess. He wasn’t as favored as Armistand, but still controlled his masculinity well. Lucas started imagining the broadcast of Tony going from meek weather intern to hunky red-headed Thor weatherman, flexing out of his shirt, contorting his body as if he were wrestling the physical manifestation of masculinity in the chamber. His personal-inner show was cut short as the female presenter began talking about the upcoming election. He hated hearing about it. The other side would never win. Both sides would put up a masculinized candidate, and his side would always win, even if they were going to put up a senile muscle grandfather, ti was better than whatever the other side was going to put up. He wondered how the other side even got their candidates masculinized. Lucas knew politicians were some of the best people to control such a wild force, but really, was the other side even worthy of it? Before the internal monologue of his political rant could continue, he could feel his bladder tighten. He needed to use the restroom soon. Looking to the room attendants, most looked busy, bored, or frankly, intimidating to the small Lucas. He excused himself down a hall, thinking he could find the room himself. However after a few minutes of wandering, he had quickly gotten himself lost in the labyrinth of the building, and he couldn’t find anyone to help him out. To make matters worse, his tablet had no signal, which was weird since he normally had signal everywhere he went. He continued to wander until he came up a long hallway with rooms. He found one labeled, “D. Chamber 21 Observation Room B” and heard some noise coming from it. He hoped he wouldn’t get in trouble if he said he was lost. He pushed the door open slowly, but found the room empty. The room has several chairs facing a large glass pane. Looking through it was what Lucas thought to be the donation chambers. Filled with wires, light and gauges, Lucas could look on in awe. He normally was sedated for the Dependence donation so he had never seen the inside of one. Inside of this one was the big man that was in front of him in line, Steven Sands. Unlike Lucas, Steven didn’t seem sedated. “The sedative has worn off on him already,” a speaker crackled to live in the room, making Lucas’s heart jump into his throat. Calming down, he realized he would be seeing a donation live, and the thought excited him. He bet Steven must be elated. In the chamber, Steven struggled against his restraints. “He certainly is a strong one. Let’s get this show on the road before we have another non-compliance issue. We got a big fish next,” Another voice over the speaker came in. “Turn on his microphone, I want to hear this one,” Lucas was slightly perturbed by that voice as suddenly Steven’s cries echoed from the speaker. “Please! Please stop! I don’t want to do this!” Steven begged, “I just want to be myself. Please let me go!” “How selfish,” Lucas thought as the machine whirred to life. His attention was on Steven’s body as the donation process began. Steven’s bulk seemed to simply dissipate from his body as a gauge on the machine rose. Bulky arms dwindled into beanpole-like appendages. His chest lost so much width, and his nipples seemed to shrink too. His abs faded to a flat plain. All the while Steven continued to struggle, the restraints becoming looser on him. Given how much weight he had lost, he was able to slip free of the restraints, but he couldn’t get far. The moment he stood up, his briefs fell down. Lucas hadn’t seen a cock that big since high school when a late bloomer in his gym class has a growth spurt. “Oh yeah, I love this part,” the voice from before echoing in the room. Lucas watched as the massive first began to thin, then slowly recede backwards into Steven’s hairy crotch, though it would not have that hair for much longer as it began to fall out. His ballsac looked so out of place with such a tiny cock sitting on top of it. Like a water balloon leaking, the sac slowly deflated as his balls shrunk, his testosterone production shrinking with it. Lastly, Steven’s whole body seemed to shrink on itself. His arms and legs pulling closer to his torso. His spine shortening. Until finally a few cosmetic changes to the face, making it rounder and dulling the hair and eye color, he could look like a sibling of Lucas, granted many men already did. The chambered door hissed open and a statuesque man in a lab coat stepped inside, “You feel better now don’t you?” The now muscle smaller Steven nodded his head numbly. “Attaboy. Now follow your attendant out and he will get you situated with some new clothes and get your ID fixed.” Lucas swore he could see Steven sob as they pulled him out of the room. Lucas wondered why the guy would be so against the donation. It was good for himself and society. Did he not pay attention in history or biology class? “Alright, the chamber is ready. Bring in the man for the demelanation process,” the voice came over the speaker. “Demelanation?” Lucas repeated in a whisper. He had heard rumors of such a thing, but the news reassured everyone that such a process didn’t exist. Since fake news had been outlawed for years, there is no way they could lie about it. Curious, Lucas stayed in the room to watch to see if it really happened. The chamber began to modify itself slightly. A divider coming down the middle and a black man being shoved into one side. “Keep the mic on, I want to hear this one too,” the voice said, Lucas beginning to hear hints of lust in the scientist’s voice. “Fuck you. Fuck all of you. I want to live my life as I want. Fuck you,” the black man’s voice shouted from the speakers. “Now now, you threw away your blackness when you decided to join those Catholic protesters outside. We could have at least rehabilitated you if you chose a Protestant group.” The scientist chided, condescendingly. “You don’t meet the black criteria, you don’t get to be black. That’s the rules.” “Fuck all y’all. I’m going to expose your asses. You’ll see. Everyone will see how corrupt this system is.” Lucas could hear the scientist laugh. Once he was done laughing, he seemed to whisper to someone else in the room, “Where is the Acceptor? Melanin expires very quickly and we do not need to lose another point on our diversity quota. Mayor Lemon will kill us, especially if we lose another black number.” “He’s here.” “Perfect, get him in the chamber. I see he wants to wear clothes. Eh most do. Prepare his uniform for him. And where is Armistand? I told him he could watch his new sex slave being made.” Lucas’s eyes widened. Mike Armistand, his crush and idol, knew about the demelanation process and had sex slaves? Not only did he lie about the process not existing, but the man he so idolized actually couldn’t contain his masculinity. Rampant sex was a symptom of that. “Alright, begin the process.” The machine whirred to life once again. Just like Steven, the black man began to lose any sort of bulk and muscle on his body. Biceps reduced to twigs. Thighs so thin it's a wonder he could stand. A paper thin torso and of course the loss of height. Then, the strangest thing started to happen. His skin started to lighten rapidly, but as it lightened, Lucas noticed more changes. First, the bone structure of the man seemed to change. His fingers looked far more slender, his posture looked more sullen. Even the bones in his face changed. His jaw and nose narrowed. His lips became slim and much more pink. His curly black hair fell out and light blonde hair grew in its place. Lastly, his eyes lost their dark brown color until they turned a baby blue and a calmness settled over him. “Now that's more like it,” the scientist’s voice shook Lucas from his rapt attention to the transformation. “Now Jamal, or rather Jamie, your new master will be here shortly. A shame he missed your change” “Arrrrrgggghhhh,” came from the other side of the chamber. The small man who had stepped into the other side of the chamber was already in the throws of his transformation. This shirt and pants were shirt tight and too short for him. With a primal roar, the man ripped open his shirt, massive pecs capped with huge nipples now free from their cloth confines. The tear continued down to reveal his thick, eight-pack abs. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his straining pants, he pulled the pants off like a stripper. His quads had already developed the teardrop shape and it was only getting bigger and more defined by the minute. His calves bunched up behind his shin and grew, giving the lower half of his legs that diamond shape from the front, and upside-down heart from the back. Lucas bit his lip as the part he secretly desired came. The man’s shoes ripping open to expose his growing meaty feet. Lucas had no idea even feet could have muscles like this. Thick, sinewy toes pushed out the front of his shoes and socks. The scraps of fabric, leather, and plastic scattered around the feet that now looked twice the size from before. He knows he shouldn’t be lusting after this, but all that has been going on, and his lack of donation, reawakened his libido. The man continued to shout and moan in lust. Then the second strangest thing Lucas saw that day happened. The man’s fingers began to grow thicker, the palm widening. The skin of his hands grew darker. The change in skin tone then traveled up his arms, a network of veins following their path. Lucas watched, mesmerized as the man’s fair skin was replaced by the dark chocolate tone of a black man. Only as it went up the man’s arm did Lucas realize how big it had gotten, and the veins made it look bigger. As it reached his chest, dark hair swirled over his pectoral and his nipples darkened. His hairless pit now filled with pitch black hair. The melanin traveled down his back, giving him a more confident posture. Going up his neck, the man’s Adam’s apple seemed to jump out further than it had already grown. Then it reached his face. Much like with Mike’s transformation, his jaw broadened, cheekbones gained prominence, and brow lowered, but the new process brought new changes. The man’s lips parted and revealed a row of stunningly white teeth that contrasted against the dark skin of his face. The lips growing more plump and darkening too. His nose grew wider as he flared his nostrils and let out a gush of air. His dirty blonde hair fell out and was replaced by dark, curly hair sitting in a free-form afro. Just as the man seemed to finish, he let out a deep grunt, “Thanks, doc.” “No problem Tyler, or should I say Tyrell? Now why don’t you finish up in there. It’s easier to clean. Then we can get you your security uniform and get you ID changed.” To Lucas’s shock, the now-black man wrapped a hand around his massive cock. “What’s he doing? He can’t control his masculinity! He’s dangerous,” thoughts rushed around in a jumbled mess in Lucas’s head. None of this seemed right. The demelanization. Calling a white man black now. Revoking ‘blackness.’ None of it seemed real. He had to get out and let the authorities know. He turned to get out the door and ran smack into a pair of thick pecs. “Well well well. They said if I hurried, I could catch the end of the transference, but it looks like I was too late and caught something else instead.” Lucas slowly looked up past the pair of pecs pressed into a tailored shirt and into the eyes of someone very familiar. “Mike Armistand,” Lucas said softly. “Yes I am and boy are you in trouble.” Lucas tried to let out any words, but fear gripped his throat. Mike looked over the scared boy and saw his hand try to hide his erection, “Like what you saw huh? Or is it you like what you see?” Lucas just gulped. “Doesn’t matter, we can’t have you going on about what you saw, but I think I have an offer you can’t refuse. You see,” but before Mike could finish, Lucas used his small body to squeeze through the gap between Mike and the door. Lucas ran as fast as his little legs and weak heart could take him. He could hear Mike’s laughs from down the hall. Even though his lungs burned for oxygen as he never ran before, he kept going only to be cut short by another pair of massive pecs. “See I told you the B.B. system caught a non-registered tablet in here,” a deep voice said as he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around him. “Hey Sal, get him sedated.” Lucas felt the needle go in even as he struggled, punched, and kicked against the steel-like muscles of his captors. “Ah gentlemen, I see you’ve caught the little fan of mine. Bring him to Dr. Brite’s lab.” Armistand’s voice said from behind him. “Yes sir,” the guards answered and Lucas could only count three heavy footsteps until he faded from consciousness. ------ When he woke up, he felt the cold metal floor on the side of his face and his stomach. He groggily opened his eyes and realized he still couldn’t move. “Ah you’re awake. I’m Dr. Burton Brite,” Lucas recognized the voice as the scientist from earlier. “Well someone is certainly feeling lucky this Dependence Day. Mr. Armistand here has offered to change your life instead of having you rehabilitated. All you have to do is say yes.” “Wha…?” Was all Lucas could get out. Dr. Brite shrugged, “Good enough. Keep his mic on. I want to hear this too. Mike, you want some lube?” “Nah,” Lucas couldn’t see Mike and he could barely hear him as the doors shut. “I’ll just have my new plaything suck me off for this. Give him a good meal.” All Lucas heard before the doors closed was the men in the room laughing. Then the machine whirred to life, drowning out all noise from outside. Fear gripped his pounding heart. He almost wanted to cry, he had no idea what they were going to do to him. Suddenly, his arm began to move. He wasn’t in control of it as it flailed to his side. The same started happening to his legs until it settled down, arms laying out to either side and his legs spread apart. He slowly gained clarity in his vision, but then he began to see what had happened. While his arms and legs were flopping about, they were lengthening, and even as they lay still now, were growing longer right in front of his eyes. Lucas’s eyes widened, “Oh my god, they are going to make me lose my mind by pumping me full of masculinity!” His heart rate shot up and that only seemed to push the transformation along. It felt as if someone was slowly massaging his spine. Feeling his chest and stomach rub against the floor, he could tell he was still growing taller. He tried to mentally resist it, but it was useless. Then, the feeling stopped. Lucas breathed a sigh of relief. It was over and he still had his sanity. A faint smile began to creep across his face before it stopped. Every muscle in his body began to spasm before returning to their original position. He knew what was coming next. Still on his stomach, his head facing to his side, he could only watch in horror as his arm began to grow thick with sinew. He could even see the rise in the ridge of his triceps; they were growing so big. Even relaxed his arms would strain sleeves. He watched the growth travel down his forearm, forcing it to be meatier. Then his hands stretched along the floor. Lucas thought with hands that size he could palm a basketball. The paralysis still holding him in place, he couldn't see what was happening to his body aside from his shoulder becoming the size of a cannonball. All he had to go on was sensation. He could feel his pecs press into the floor, pushing his torso away from the cold metal. He could feel the pants they left on his grow tighter until they looked like they were painted on. He could feel his shoes begin to buckle against the growing mass of his feet. How he wished he could see that. Then, he felt something wet. It was in his crotch. The sensation was alien. He didn’t know what was happening. Did he pee himself? Was he bleeding? Just as those thoughts entered his mind, his hips began to move. Suddenly the wet sensation wasn't worrying to him, it was pleasurable. He continued to buck his hips against the floor. Had he not been overrun by the rush of hormones, he would have realized his cock had pushed the zipper down and was rubbing it against the floor like a horny beast. Lucas had no idea he had doused his underwear and the floor with his precum. Nor did he care. All he cared about was the euphoria he was feeling from his cock. His deeper moans were garbled as his face began to rearrange. Straighter teeth, a more handsome face, brighter hair. Everything that made a man who Accepted the burden of masculine so attractive. Once his pants and shoes had grown tight enough, they burst off of him. And with a final, powerful thrust, Lucas let out a deep, lustful moan, splattering the floor and his chest with years-worth of sexually repressed cum. He laid on the floor panting as the doors hissed open and Mike Armistand stepped in with a wicked grin, “Okay so now that your head is a bit more clear, how about we make a deal. You keep quiet about what you saw and heard today and I move you into a position I think you’ll like. Remember, this process is reversible.” Lucas gulped. ------ “Another Dependence gone well. All protesters were dispersed by the Montag Corporation Security Force, so remember to pay your security fees. The increase in the average testosterone was culled today and your nation thanks you for it,” Mike’s handsome face filled the screens of anyone watching NewsSpeak that evening and his voice filled their ears. “And that’s the top story of the day. Now let’s head over to the weather board to see what the weather in Altimore will be like this week.” Mike kept that handsome smile on his face, “We have a new weatherman here at NewsSpeak. Please give a warm welcome to Luke Atwood!” The platinum blonde stud standing in front of the weather forecast smiled and gave a friendly wave as the rest of the crew clapped for exactly tens seconds. “Luke, how was your day?” Mike asked. “Well it is Dependence Day and I…” He threw his right arm into a bicep flex, the bulbous muscle straining the sleeve of his stretch polo. And out of frame of the camera, he grope the hard cock angled towards his hip. “...had a great one.” “Good to hear Luke and thank you for joining our team. Now how about the weather?” “Ah yes,” Lucas went on to describe what to expect that week. He was received well by the audience. His perfectly styled platinum blonde hair and killer smiled became widely recognized by the end of the week. His warm voice and demeanor made everyone feel like he was just one of them. And of course no one could take their eyes off his wide back as he turned to point at the map and the occasional shot of his pert ass barely held back by his slacks made it into some of the ‘tabloids.’ Meanwhile back at their desks, Mike and Farrah were pleasuring themselves, looking at Luke in his tailored clothes. Luke would return the gesture when his segment was over. Once the whole show was coming to a close, the hot cast of NewsSpeak came together for a nightly send off. “Thank you for watching NewsSpeak,” Farrah said. “Where the news speaks to you,” Mike continued. “And a good finish to your Dependence Day. Remember…” The whole cast then joined in, “OUR future depends on YOU.”
  4. PumpCulture

    Goddess of War - part 3

    CW: muscle growth, breast expansion, godhood, fantasy violence. (read parts 1 and 2) "Power Girl!" Supergirl choked, eyes full of horror, "W-what happened to you?" "Shut up! I can't stand being called Power Girl! Most of all by you," the pumped up kryptonian goddess gnashed her teeth, "I am WAR!" She put her fists on her hips, flexed her lats and pecs. Huge folds of strength undulated beneath her white costume, practically painted on over all that garish, gruesome muscularity. The gold cord and buckle that secured her now tiny cape around her shoulder had begun to fray. Supergirl actually staggered back at the sight of her kinswoman, now bloated nearly beyond recognition with muscle, curved horns and metal helmet gleaming on her head. As if sensing her fear, the Goddess of War's body flexed harder, harder, blowing out a gasp of air and holding her red-faced breath as veins slithered over vascularity cut to shreds. It was inhuman. It wasn't even kryptonian. Supergirl actually thought about flying away at top speed to go for help. "How did you get like this...?" The Goddess of War exhaled, thrust a gigantic arm at the limp, nearly lifeless body of Wonder Woman at Supergirl's feet. The once proud princess of the Amazons was skeletal, sapped until gaunt. Her hair white instead of black, her skin a pale gray, she weakly regarded Supergirl standing over her, voicelessly pleading for help, while glancing back at Power Girl with envy. "Her!" War began, "She tried to keep this from me. She, like the rest of her precious league, thought she could keep the power of war for herself and continue to look down on the rest of the world from her watchtower. Well no more! I am done being looked down upon. The status quo is over." She began to flex a single bicep, watching it rise and rise. "I will become so huge... so massive... so powerful..." her bicep was tearing open the arm of her costume, splitting the seams, tearing rents that traced from its peak down to her swollen tricep, "so unstoppable that everyone will have no choice but to look up to ME." "No... stop... this isn't you," Supergirl begged, almost shaking in her red boots. War glanced at her sideways, smirked. Supergirl gasped and put a hand over her heart, the look War gave her dripped with sexual rage. "When they look up in the sky, they won't see a bird or a plane, or him..." War's blue glove creaked as her bicep pierced her sleeve with a noisy rip, bigger than a volleyball, absolutely engorged with pale blue veins like those in marble, "...when they look in the sky, they will see me. Only me. I will fill the Earth and the skies, and I won't stop there. I'll seize the power of war from this planet, and then the next, and the next," her greed caused her heart to race. She salivated at the thought. Her pussy tingled and ached with the sling of her costume pulled tight into her camel toe. A wave of pleasure and desire rocketed through her insane body, tightening all of her muscles like a spring. "...Growing bigger and stronger, bigger and stronger... FOREVER." The Goddess of War shot off the ground, flying directly toward Supergirl, who had less than a moment to react. Startled, Supergirl leapt into the air like a tiny sparrow before a giant eagle. War passed through the empty space in a streak of white and red and gold. Supergirl peered down from several miles above the ground but Power Girl was nowhere in sight, and then she felt a tug on her cape. She had no time to turn around. The Goddess of War pulled hard and threw Supergirl at blazing speeds over the continent, where her body pierced one of the peaks of a snowy mountain range. Supergirl stood up from the crater even as it began to form. Her ears stung with the searing shriek of Power Girl's body cutting through the air, hurtling toward her like a white meteor. With a fraction of a second to respond, Supergirl leapt again, blasting twin beams of burning light from her eyes. The blue heat vision hit the Goddess and she stopped, raising a hand to get the solar lasers out of her face. Then she gathered herself and hurtled toward Supergirl, who dodged again. "Kara, stop!" Supergirl screamed. She clenched her eyes, cutting off the heat vision, while also narrowly escaping the Goddess's fists my a few centimeters. She free-fell to get behind her adversary. War followed, diving faster than Supergirl could predict. Their bodies connected with a thunderclap that shattered the nearby mountainsides even as Supergirl's body penetrated the earth beneath Power Girl's accelerating bulk. Earth and ash blasted from the rent in the ground. A moment later, another chasm opened up, followed by the blast of a winter hurricane. Power Girl's immense body flung backward into the air out of the pit and Supergirl soon followed, emptying her lungs with a mighty gust of her frost breath. The Goddess of War crossed her arms in front of her body to withstand the hurricane, not unlike Wonder Woman once did with her demolished amazonian bracelets. In fact, energy began to coalesce about War's wrists. Power Girl saw it and her wince at the ice building up over her body turned into a greedy grin. "No more tricks, Supergirl," she laughed. War roared as she tightened her fists and flexed her arms, before unleashing a shockwave from her wrists. The shockwave ripped through Supergirl's frost breath and collided with her, a ringing, shrieking, dizzying cacophony, throwing her back into the earth. Power Girl was relentless, upon her again. Supergirl could hear the immense muscle fibers bunch up and tense then release, like the sound of a crack of a whip to her ears. Power Girl's fist connected with her face, driving her head down into solid granite. Power Girl hit her again before Supergirl could throw her arms up and engage her flight. This time, Supergirl drove right into her, blasting up into the stratosphere with a trail of stones and ice behind them. They were past Earth's atmosphere in mere moments, Supergirl yelling as she poured on the power. Power Girl's body was bent nearly in half, pecs and breasts filling Supergirl's vision. The Goddess of War tried to get a grip on her foe, reached for the cape, but Supergirl was already prepared, diving below her pumped up body, grabbing her ankles and diving back toward the planet in an arcing spin. Fire leapt around them as they broke back into the atmosphere, falling faster than gravity could pull them. Then Supergirl let go. Power Girl's fall cracked open the sky. Thousands of kilometers and mere seconds later, she pierced the surface of the Pacific. A torrent of boiling water erupted where she hit the sea. Supergirl pursued her across the curvature of the Earth with her biggest blast of heat vision, bellowing at the top of her lungs. "How could you make me do this, Kara?" her voice echoed through the zenith, "We were sisters! We're both kryptonian!" And then in the midst of the solar rays, a huge arm raised from the sea, blue glove and white sleeve hanging in tatters. Supergirl's telescopic vision saw that Power Girl's enraged face followed. The Goddess balled her fist and sliced the ocean, cutting through Supergirl's heat vision, connecting with its individual particles. There was a deafening explosion and a flash that turned night into day on that side of the world as the Goddess of War's punch deflected Supergirl's heat vision. No way she was ready for that. Supergirl's own heat vision collided with her like a cannonball of energy, knocking her out of the upper atmosphere, barely conscious. Power Girl was upon her in a moment, a tidal wave pursuing her flight into the air. The Goddess of War grabbed Supergirl and put her in a chokehold, scissoring her head behind her flank and bicep, the muscle on her arm bigger than Supergirl's head. The two kryptonian women fell together onto a deserted island in the tropics, shrouded in night, the sun on the other side of the planet where their battle had begun. Sand and debris burst into the air where their crater formed. Power Girl tightened her grip, beaming with pride. Supergirl tried in vain to free herself, tearing at Power Girl's arm, attempting to bend even her fist under her neck. Supergirl even got her powerful legs on the back of Power Girl's but she couldn't hope to budge her, an immovable statue of gleaming metal and ivory. Finally, she gave up. Her body went limp, and she didn't quite understand why just yet. "Kara..." her formerly feminine voice rasped, "K-Kara? Please, if there's... any way you... you can hear me... D-don't kill me... Don't kill me..." Supergirl felt the tremors of Power Girl's cruel laughter resound through her massive, muscular tank of a body. Supergirl managed to turn her head and look up at her, greeted by the sight of her bulging hip, her bare abs, revealed by rips in her costume, shredded beyond belief, the bottoms of her pecs and her humungous breasts, like the prow of a ship, obscuring the Goddess's face. Supergirl felt humiliated beside such a magnificent display of physical strength. She felt her heart sink within her, like she was less of a woman, less of a kryptonian compared to such perfection. War ceased her laughter. "I'm not going to kill you, dear cousin. You saw what I did to Wonder Woman." She tightened her grip. "I'm going to do the same thing to YOU!" She began laughing once more, a beautiful, elegant but immensely cruel sound. Supergirl's ears ached at that sound, then the ache flooded her body. The ache turned to pain which turned to suffering, sweat, nausea, shivering, fevers, icy chills. Still Power Girl held her as the smaller kryptonian's power flowed into her, forcing her already immense body to expand just to fit all that additional, superfluous life. Supergirl's eyes went wide. Her super hearing took in all the microscopic, frightening details: every thread in Power Girl's costume screaming as they snapped and split; every fiber in Power Girl's body agonizingly tearing, redoubling, tearing, growing, tearing, rebuilding; every bone in Power Girl's skeleton shattering and reforming, healing instantly, lengthening at the molecular level; every synapse in Power Girl's head firing louder and louder; every cell in Power Girl's flesh enduring a new flood of health, drinking up solar radiation from another kryptonian instead of the yellow sun; every vein expanding with gushing blood. Supergirl could hear Power Girl's heart pounding faster and harder than any heartbeat she'd ever detected before. She could hear nearly every ounce of fat Power Girl possessed sizzling out of existence except for in her face and breasts, which began to swell like beachballs being overfilled with air, accompanied by a sound not unlike latex stretching. The Goddess of War squeezed her captive tighter, as if to squeeze the last juice out of a grape. Her free hand, blue glove gone except for a torn remnant of fabric at her wrist, filled Supergirl's vision. Power Girl's fingers cupped Supergirl's face, pinched her cheek playfully and caressed the blonde tresses of her hair. "Shhh don't cry," the Goddess cooed mockingly, "All you have to do is give everything to me, all of your power." And then she moaned with utmost satisfaction, running her hands from her trembling, twitching, aching pussy--at which Supergirl gawked with a mixture of disgust, jealousy, and pure lust, despite herself--tracing her fingers over each tumefied muscle of her abs. Every muscle lining her waist throbbed and with each throb became further defined. Veins dumped blood into them as the cuts between them deepened, going from bloated to shredded and back again, becoming ever more extreme with every crunching moment. As Supergirl's keen kryptonian vision took in their perfection, she thought about using her heat vision one last time but imagined those abs could already cut diamonds. "Ohh Rao yesssss..." Power Girl groaned sensually as wave after wave of powerful growth hit her. "YES! More power than I ever DREAMED of!" Supergirl felt the chokehold getting tighter not from her cousin holding her any more violently, but merely from the force of her growing muscles. The bicep pressed tight against her head began to fill her peripheral vision. Held flat against her ear, Supergirl could hear the supernovas of strength exploding inside of it, pushing it past belief. Then came the noises of the fabric again, giving up. Power Girl's costume had finally had enough. Her sleeves burst, unleashing a torrent of muscle that looked as if it had been chiseled out of Nth metal. Beneath her, Power Girl's feet hovered over the earth at the ends of legs overcrowded with so much muscle they looked like the flanks of cows covered with a layer of creamy skin holding on for dear life. Above her, Power Girl's ludicrous chest, overinflated beachballs perched on pecs each more than a foot thick, ripped her sling-bikini style costume clear in half as if her chest were the bucket of a bulldozer ripping raw earth straight out of the ground. Now free, her magnificent gravity-defying mammaries bounced irresistibly, perfectly round, the final bits of white fabric hanging over their tops. Her growth had rendered her costume--made for a much smaller, much slimmer, far less busty superheroine--into a cut off top, bearing her artisan midriff and utopian underboobs. Supergirl would've swooned if she wasn't already fainting. "You have no idea how this feels, do you?" the Goddess of War said between heavy, satisfied breaths, "You have no clue what true power is like. Neither of us did, just a few hours ago. Or maybe... now you know what it feels like?" Power Girl reached down and grabbed Supergirl's head like a football, pressing her face against her abs. Supergirl had no strength left to fight back, scraping her cheek against skin that felt like a coating of perfumed velvet over tungsten. "Can you feel that?" the Goddess chuckled, "Is there enough feeling left in your dried up ass to appreciate what is happening to me? You have the privilege of witnessing the birth of a new god, up close and personal! Can you even begin to grasp in your rapidly draining brain what I'm turning into, a kryptonian queen married to the god of war combined with the strength of the amazons and Olympus in one being? You drooling, pathetic, revolting waste of flesh, touch me and touch raw power!" She flexed, a deafening explosive sound, her body responding with one more burst of growth, pumping even larger. "Look at me, you blonde piece of shit!" the Goddess sneered, "Look at all this strength and worship it! Worship this body!" The Goddess of War balled a fist under Supergirl's neck, gripping the fabric of her suit that hung from her in loose wrinkles, lifted the tiny, flat-chested, waif of a blonde up above the horizon of her own immense bust, the radiance of her face dawning over that massive chest, framed by mountainous traps and shoulders like foothills and by the helm of war, transformed again into liquid gold that flowed from her head like hair and fire. New horns, six in total, curved directly out of Kara's skull, lined with opals and gemstones, a wild array of animalistic strength not unlike the serpentine hair of the gorgon. In the same energy, Kara's eyes were two holes that peered into the depths of a burning white star, seemingly able to render any man into not just stone but pulverized dust. Her eyes whipped slivers of spectral light around their edges like newly effulgent eyelashes. She pursed her full lips, shimmering with opalescent rainbows, in utter ecstasy and delight. The sight of Power Girl's unspeakably gorgeous face was blinding to Supergirl's tear-blurred eyes as the face of a celestial looked into the face of a crumpled wretch. The contrast between them couldn't be any starker. It was as if the ugliest insect had been dropped headfirst into the cauldron of the sun. "LOOK! Look at me! See what I have become? The strongest, most powerful being on Earth! Humanity will weep at the sight of me! I am Wonder Woman! I am Supergirl! I am Power Girl no longer... I am Mars, Ares, bloodlust, WAR!" And with the final zap of electricity siphoned from Supergirl's body, the transformation was complete. Power Girl had absorbed all the power she possibly could from her cousin without ending her life, dooming her to survive to witness her reign. But then, a small, pitiful sound filled Power Girl's ears which could hear every noise on Earth at once. "...Kuh-" "What did you say? You dare to speak to the Supreme Goddess of War, the Queen of New Krypton?" Power Girl's divine anger threatened to blast the meat right off of Supergirl's brittle bones. Then came the words again, slow, pained, desperate. "Kh-... Kal..." Supergirl whispered. The memory that Superman still lived and breathed possessed the Goddess's mind with a jealousy and greed few living beings could begin to comprehend. Her face coiled into a platinum mask of covetousness and hatred. The world's beloved, the first superhero... her eyes licked and lashed iridescent flames at the thought of him. "Yes... Kal-El. The Superman. The Man of Steel... I can melt steel with my very presence. They call him the Man of Tomorrow. He hasn't yet met the greatest Woman who has ever lived and shall ever live." The Goddess of War smirked and the physics of time and space warped around her as she disappeared into the skies, instantly breaking every barrier of speed as she willed herself toward Metropolis, cradling Supergirl against her gargantuan breast. "Clark. Your time in the sun is over!" (end of part 3) (READ MORE on DeviantArt or unlock the full library of stories at Patreon)
  5. BrandedX2

    Tuck Wants a Loan

    by Brandedx2 (Like this story? Find more tales of huge guys getting taken down a peg at my tumblr and if you have a custom tale you want me to spin up for you, let me know! I do commissions.) People could tell, Rob knew. He had clients to train, he still had a workout to get in himself (if it even mattered, now), so he was stuck there at Global Gym. He had a reputation at Global as the biggest bodybuilder in a gym full of heavy competitors. He was also known as one of the most approachable guys in the gym, imposing in stature but by all means a gentle giant. He had a number of fans in the gym’s clientele, as well as the gym’s owner Clem and his idolizing son Terry. Everybody cheered when he got his pro card the previous year, all in agreement that there wasn’t a more deserving athlete around. Rob was used to having all eyes on him. But after what Tuck had done to him that day, those eyes made his veins cold. Between clients Rob eyed the scale outside the locker room. He’d been avoiding it all day, terrified of what it was going to tell him. He tried to let his eyes, the way his body felt, be enough, but he had to know. He hopped on the scale and looked down: 240. That morning, when he’d weighed himself after getting out of bed, he’d been 284. He’d walked in the gym that size. And then, standing in the locker room, he heard the shrill laugh of his least favorite “client” and turned around to see skinny, tattooed little Tuck in his usual tight wife-beater and cargo shorts, cracking his knuckles and looking Rob up and down with a look that always made the big bodybuilder shiver. “…just a little bit?” Rob said, side-eyeing Tuck, wishing he could get away from the little guy who was inching closer to him. “…just for a little while?” “Big fella!” Tuck said with a laugh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you didn’t like having me around. Yeah just a little, yeah just for a little bit.” Rob looked around quickly to make sure no one was around when it happened (Tuck probably didn’t even care—he didn’t care about much) and then Tuck, wiggling his fingers wildly, reached out and poked him. He felt a sudden chill, and just like that, the size drained right out of Rob and into Tuck (forty-four pounds, he would find out later). His shorts fell to the ground and his tank top hung down like a dress without the rest of his bulk to fill it out. By all accounts he was still a big man, but nowhere near the massive size he’d been a moment before. Tuck looked like a heavy-weight prize fighter with all of the extra mass, and he’d even got taller. He shadow-boxed a bit, flexed his new muscles while Rob sadly examined his own diminished form. Tuck gave him a shove (he stumbled forward, not expecting the sudden force and his own lack of mass) and then took off. Rob had clothes he kept in the bottom of his gym bag for the times that Tuck “borrowed” from him; they were his old workout clothes from several years before, back before he’d gained the mass that made him a terror to the superheavyweights onstage. He remembered being that size and feeling big, but going back to it was too much. What was worse, the smaller shorts and t-shirt still looked baggy on him. Rob was used to stretching XXXLs to the limit, and he couldn’t even fill out an XL. Tuck had taken more that day than ever before. There was nothing Rob could do to fight it. Tuck had all the power. He had to play nice and wait until Tuck was done playing around with his mass, until he decided to give it back. That feeling of weakness was almost too much for Rob to bear. “What’s up big man?” said Leon, a big powerlifter and Rob’s occasional lifting partner, taking a break from his heavy squats. Leon used to say Rob was the only guy big enough to spot him. Rob nodded back as they passed each other, terribly aware of the difference in their sizes. Rob hadn’t felt that small next to somebody in awhile. Later on his client Carlos turned to him during posing practice, while holding a front double bi, and smirked in his direction. “Hey, Big Rob, my guns are looking big as yours, no?” Carlos took a step toward him to compare. Rob backed away and swatted at him. “In your dreams, buddy,” he said. “You’re good. Hit the locker room.” Meanwhile across the gym, Tuck was curling a loaded barbell with sloppy form, showing off for a few spandex-clad ladies doing lunges nearby. Girls had always been the core of Tuck’s objectives in stealing size from him, Rob noticed. At the end of the day, Rob paced around the locker room, a little panicked. He hadn’t seen Tuck in a couple of hours, and after searching the entire gym Rob couldn’t find him. “Oh, hey Rob,” Clem said, walking through the gym about to lock up. “I didn’t know you were still here. I can leave you the keys if you still want to work out.” Rob felt a pit in his stomach. What if Tuck took off this time? It would take years to build all that size back, if Tuck’s power even allowed that possibility. “Uh… Thanks, Clem, I think I’m gonna hang out here for a bit if you don’t mind.” Clem smiled and tossed Rob the keys. “You in a heavy cut phase or something?” Clem said, looking him up and down. “You look like you dropped some pounds.” “I’ll be bulked back up again soon enough,” Rob said, praying that was the truth. Tuck strode in with a loose swagger over an hour later. Rob would’ve knocked the kid out if he wasn’t so terrified of the kid. “Sorry, Bobby,” Tuck said, scratching his crotch. “I was plowing this chick out in the parking lot just now. She could not get enough of this!” he said, gesturing to his physique. “Oh, man, what’d you think I wasn’t coming back? Bobby, you wound me, buddy. You really wound me.” Rob shrugged and feigned a smile. “Naw, I knew you were coming back.” “I suppose you want to go back to normal,” Tuck said. Rob bit his lip and clenched his fists. “Man, you are such a big baby sometimes, Bobby. You’re lucky I love you.” Then he flicked Rob right in the forehead. Rob’s mass returned in an instant, and he felt a sudden pain all over as he burst through his clothes. They fell to tatters and Rob stood there, massive and naked, his posture finally relaxing after a brutal day. Tuck burst into riotous laughter at the sight of the giant man exploding out of his clothes. “Bobby, you are ridiculous, buddy!” said Tuck, once again five feet and a hundred pounds. He walked out of the locker room and Rob patted himself down, thankful to be himself again. That was all Rob heard of Tuck for awhile. Usually he could count on a visit from Tuck every month, whenever the little guy was itching for girls at the gym, but several months passed and Rob was relieved to find that Tuck didn’t come around. His career started turning up, as well: he got a huge sponsorship deal, a photoshoot with Flex magazine, and Clem asked him to be the face of Global gym. The first day it was unveiled, Rob looked humbly at the larger-than-life size poster of himself, twenty-feet tall, outside Global gym. He couldn’t believe where his hard work had taken him, and he couldn’t have asked for a better place to do work. Terry, Clem’s beefy son, greeted Rob at the door. “Your picture looks awesome!” Terry said with stars in his eyes. “Thanks Terry,” Rob said warmly. “One of these days you’re gonna be up there.” “There’s Big Hollywood!” Leon said and punched him in the shoulder. All eyes in the gym were on Rob. He couldn’t feel prouder, until he walked into the locker room and saw Tuck standing there. “Bobby! You’re a big deal now, aren’t ya!” Tuck said, arms crossed, a sly grin on his face. “Aw, Bobby, you always clench up when you see me. If I didn’t know better I’d think you weren’t happy to have me around!” Rob looked around quickly to make sure the locker room was clear. “Uh… Tuck, I… what do you… doing?” Tuck smiled. “Relax, big Bobby.” He pulled out a wad of cash. “This time we’re gonna train. Regular. Big man teaches little guy how to lift weights. Deal?” He extended a hand. Rob, relieved, shook it. “Finally want to start adding some mass of your own, huh?” Tuck handed over the cash. “Look, Tuck, if you’re really serious, I can take over your diet, your supplementation… Hell, I can get you juice if you want it. Just say the word, buddy.” Tuck started stripping out of his clothes, stood there naked, a little awkwardly close to Rob. “See, thing is, Bobby, there’s this chick out there right now who will blow your MIND. Huge tits, ass like heaven, body that looks like it was built to fuck… Man, she’s got me DROOLING, Bobby, but she’s only into massive guys. Like big giant freaks your size.” Rob grinned as he put his gym bag in the locker. “Don’t worry, Tuck. I won’t steal her from you.” Tuck, still naked, bounced his eyebrows. “Oh, I’m not worried about that one bit, big Bobby.” Then he grabbed a handful of Rob’s big back. It hit Rob hard this time, like needles everywhere. His body compressed so fast everything was a blur, and he found himself stumbling around, his arms and legs suddenly tangled up. His head ached for a moment, and he felt like he was going to throw up… then the vertigo passed and he looked around, shocked at how much bigger the locker room had gotten. His tank top and compression tights were tented around him, and as he stood he watched his whole body slide through the neck hole. His body—that couldn’t be his body! Still tan, but tiny all over, a size he’d never been even in adolescence: shoulders, arms, legs, chest, all so narrow and bony. Even his dick was tiny now, and he put one tiny hand down to block it. He felt exhausted, and like he was moving in slow motion. Then he noticed the huge shadow cast over him. “Fuck YEAH!” roared a low, bovine voice. The sudden eruption scared Rob so much he tumbled over, his little heart pounding rapidly at the sight before him: Tuck was ENORMOUS, every part of him bloated with massive muscle, skill covered in tattoos which made the presentation all the more intimidating. Tuck aggressively hit a crab shot and grinned at the mirror—Rob had never seen anybody so big! Terrified, he scrambled backwards, eager to get away from the giant man stomping and flexing and growling. “Where do you think you’re going?” Tuck said, tossing his old wife-beater and shorts at Rob. “You agreed to a training session. Only it’s gonna be me showing YOU how to move weights, little man! Get dressed little guy. I’m gonna borrow your old clothes—seeing as you couldn’t use them for anything but a circus tent!” Tuck gave his now-massive cock a swing. “Hopefully I can fit all this in there,” he laughed as he pulled on Rob’s clothes, which fit like skin. “Let’s go little guy.” Rob felt like he was going to be sick as he walked out on the floor. He had to take two steps just to keep up with giant Tuck’s long stride. All eyes were on them—or rather, they were on the massive tattooed beast Tuck had become. Rob was shaking. He was terrified that someone would recognize him, but as he walked out, he realized nobody was even looking at him. That was almost worse. “Grab some dumbbells, little man,” Tuck barked. “Time to do some curls.” He crossed his arms and smirked down his chest at Rob. Rob headed over to the weight rack—how much would he be able to lift? He looked toward the smaller weights. He reached for the 20s, but a young guy—a guy who had asked for Rob’s autograph and some lifting advice the day before—elbowed him out of the way and grabbed them himself. Rob grabbed the 15s and walked over to Tuck, who tilted his chin at him. “What are you waiting for? Curl!” Tuck growled. Rob strained. He couldn’t believe he could get his arms to bend. “I… I can’t…” he said quietly, shocked at how soft and high-pitched his voice was now. Tuck laughed and slapped his knee. “Are you serious? You can’t even curl those?” He walked over and grabbed some 80s. “Lemme show how to curl, little guy!” His form was sloppy but his massive physique still impressed everybody around. Tuck winked at a blonde fitness model nearby. Her name was Catherine, Rob knew; she did only go for monsters. She’d been flirting with him a lot that week, and he’d thought about giving her his number. “Go get some water,” Tuck said, racking his dumbbells and heading over to Catherine. Rob was stunned by the height of the water fountain, which was now at about eye-level to him. He stood on his tiptoes to reach it, barely getting water in his mouth. He turned around and ran into what felt like a brick wall—it was Leon, who looked GIGANTIC to Rob now. “Watch where you’re going,” Leon said politely, yanking little Rob to his feet with one hand. Rob glanced across the weight room and saw beastly Tuck, now making his pecs dance while he chatted with Catherine. He had a little time, he figured, so he quickly headed to the locker room. His gym bag felt massive to him as he fished it out of his locker—it was bigger than he was now! He had to text his clients and reschedule before they showed up. As he struggled with the zippers, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “That doesn’t belong to you, sir!” A strong hand yanked little Rob away from the bag, and another yanked the bag away from him. It was Terry, who was now twice the size of Rob. Terry gave little Rob a shove. “Theft is grounds for termination of membership.” “I-I wasn’t stealing!” Rob pleaded. “I was just… I thought it was mine.” “What’s your membership number?” Terry asked with an eyebrow raised. “0-1-6-1-1,” Rob blurted out, suddenly realizing Terry had no doubt memorized his number. “Uh-uh,” Terry said, grabbing Rob forcefully. “You’re outta here.” Rob begged him to stop, told him he could explain (even though he had no idea what he would say) but still Terry very easily dragged little Rob to the door while everyone in the gym stared at the scene. “My coach!” Rob begged, pointing at Tuck, who was too wrapped up in Catherine’s admiration of his giant body to notice. “He’ll explain!” “Nope,” said Terry, shoving Rob hard. “Beat it, or I’m calling the cops, reporting you for theft and trespassing.” Flat on his back outside Global Gym, Rob stared up at the giant image of himself at full-size and burst into tears. It was too much. He looked up and saw Terry on the phone inside and quickly pulled himself to his feet and walked to his car. He tried the locked doors, realizing that his keys were inside, in a bag that belonged to someone he didn’t look like anymore. He walked around to the opposite side of the car and crouched down as it began to rain. Everything would be fine, he told himself—as soon as Tuck set things back to normal, everything would be fine. Hours later he saw Tuck strutting from the gym, holding Catherine’s hand. Rob stood up and sprinted for the two—but they were on Tuck’s crotch rocket before he could get there. Tuck sped away, never even acknowledging little Rob, stood there in shock, wondering if he was ever going to see Tuck again.
  6. BrandedX2

    Big Barney's Bouncer Blues

    [If you like this story please pop over to brandedx2.tumblr.com to see more stories like this and more. Want a commission done? Hit me up!] Big Barney's Bouncer Blues It was only 8 o'clock and Barney already had a potential brawl in the bar that he’s got to diffuse. As he rushed inside, wedging his barrel-shaped body through the clusters of drunk college kids, it dawned on him that was only 8 o'clock and Barney already had a potential brawl in the bar that he’s got to diffuse. As he rushed inside, wedging his barrel-shaped body through the clusters of drunk college kids, it dawned on him that this scuffle might be his own fault. Barney was the head bouncer at the Draft, where entitled kids with heir dads’ credit cards drank $1 well drinks until they couldn’t even stand. He worked the front door, maintained the line outside, and ID’d the little shitheads as they came in. “I take shits bigger than these fuckers,” Barney often thought as he compared his bulky powerlifting frame to the bony kids in skinny jeans walking in and stumbling out. That night Barney saw Craig Oxfelter, the star left tackle of the university team, approach the front door with his hot little blond girlfriend. Of all these little runts, Ox, as Barney called him, was the only one he can respect. He was 325 lbs of shaven-headed athletic steel, and at 6’ 6" tall, towered over his peers. Even Barney felt a little tinge of intimidation when he shook Ox’s big bearpaws. On top of being an absolute beast, Ox was polite and respectful, even though he could fold most of these kids (and, to be honest, Barney himself too) in half with little effort. So Barney waved Ox and his sweet little girl over and let them cut the line. “Thanks Bar,” Ox said with a massive fist bump. Of course, this little blonde-haired fratkid, acting like he had big arms in a size S tank top, had something to say. “What the fuck is this? Big fucking caveman gets to cut the line but we gotta wait?” Barney knew the kid’s name: Clifford York the third. He’d tossed him and his two little lackeys Ben and Paul, who were at that moment rallying to their buddy’s side in their equally unimpressive tank tops, out of the bar a handful of times before. “Easy little guy,” Barney said to Clifford as Ox and his girl strode into the bar. “When you’re the big man you can call the shots, got it?” The three frat boys roiled a little to themselves but seemed to get over it. Until later, when the bouncer Barney called Hawkeye (because nothing ever escaped him) saw the three frat boys confronting Ox near the dance floor. Ox and Clifford were chest to chest (or rather, chest to stomach, since Ox towered over his opponent) when Barney got there so he immediately put his brawny body between them. It was a rare sight, Ox moving toward violence off the field. Normally he was a peaceful giant everybody loved, or at least knew better than to screw with. “I’m getting real sick of having to toss you guys out of here,” Barney said to Clifford and his sidekicks. “That’s bullshit. You automatically side with the big mongoloid?” chirped Clifford. Guys like him, who did crunches and curls and called it a day, loved to mouth off to bigger dudes. If the big dude walks away he’s a pussy. If he swings he’s a bully. Barney was tired of little fucks like him, but since he was on the clock, he decided to be diplomatic. Turning to Ox (and a little worried, because Ox was barely putting any force in and Barney still had trouble holding him back), “You don’t want this, Ox. You’ve got too much going for you. And they don’t want this either, big man,” Barney said, thumbing at the three underfed guys behind him and eyeing up the big bald lineman, who was big and solid as a brick wall. “They know you’d squash these fuckers with one hand!” “I’d like to see him try!” Cliff shouted. He reminded Barney of a little yippy dog. “Me and my boys would cream that dumb ape.” Barney tried to surpress a smirk. “C'mon, Bar, they’ve been heckling me since we came in, harassing my girl,” Ox rumbled in his deep voice. “You’re better than these little pipsqueaks,” Barney said. “Just head to the bar and grab a drink for yourself and your lady, on me, and ignore these Mosquitos.” Ox shook his head, grabbed his girl’s hand and headed to the bar. Then Barney turned to the frat trio. “You guys start any more trouble in my bar and I’m banning you for good.” Clifford leaned forward to retort, but his buddy Ben grabbed him and whispered something in his ear. Then all three of them got these shit-eating grins that made Barney want to knock them all out right there. But then they bowed their heads and dispersed back into the crowd. “No more troubles in the bar,” Clifford said in his weaselly voice. Back at the front door, Hawkeye spotted some kids drinking smuggled beers in the line about twenty people back. Hawkeye was a sturdy kid, but Barney decided to handle it. He was roughly the size of a refrigerator with the kind of size only a lifetime of heavy deadlifting can build. He easily yanked the beers away from the punks and one-handed them each into the street. As he returned to his post, Hawkeye looked panicked. “I just saw Ox follow those three punks out the side door to the alley!” he blurted out. Barney darted around the building to the alley, hoping he got there in time to stop Ox from turning those guys into three messy stains on the wall. The alley was foggy for some reason (fucking kids and their vapeing), and dark (because Mel, the owner, was too cheap to buy a lightbulb for back there) but as the fog cleared, Barney saw the three frat guys, completely unharmed. Ox was nowhere to be found. “You punks come out here to fight?” Barney said, looking around for the massive lineman. “Just to talk,” Clifford said with a smarmy look on his face. “And the big meathead decided he was headed home.” The story didn’t add up, but nothing about this scene did. “All right, back inside. I’m seriously on my last nerve with you guys.” He let them back in through the back door. Before he left the alley Barney heard something weird–a high-pitched moaning from behind the alley dumpster. Sure enough, leaned up against the wall back there was a tiny little bald kid, completely wasted. With a deep sigh, Barney hoisted the kid to his feet. He was light as a feather, couldn’t weigh more than 90 lbs, 5 feet tall if he was lucky. Barney chuckled when the kid’s sleeve fell back to reveal a tribal tattoo that looked ridiculous on his bony arm. “Kids think they can just buy their badassness. Too lazy to lift up a damned weight.” When he got a good look at the shrimp, stumbling on unsteady legs, he worried that they’d served a minor, but it was just a really small, underdeveloped guy. Barney didn’t remember seeing the kid come through the front door, but then again he was so small he might have just slipped by. The shrimp was completely obliterated, no doubt because a guy that size would be wasted on only a couple of beers. “Can’t drink like the big fellas, can ya little guy?” Barney chided. He really was tired of picking up after little punks who didn’t know their limits. The shrimp tried to focus his eyes. “Baaaarrrrrr…” he moaned, his voice so high Barney doubted he kid’s testicles had dropped yet. “No more Bar for you little guy,” Barney said, hoisting the shrimp over his shoulder and walking him out to the front. Sure enough, the night remained interesting: Hawkeye had seen the frat trio again harassing Ox’s girlfriend, but Ox was nowhere in sight. “I’ll deal with them,” Barney said. “You take this little guy and get him in a cab and out of my sight.” He handed the shrimp over to Hawkeye like he was nothing. When Barney saw Clifford getting grabby with Ox’s girl, he took great pleasure in grabbing Clifford by his pencil neck and hoisting him into the air, marching him out the front door. He swung wildly but his Barney barely registered the struggle, or the protests of Clifford’s little lackeys. Barney tossed Clifford on the sidewalk. “As long as you see me at this front door I don’t ever want you coming back!” Barney declared. A small crowd gathered around to see. Clifford hopped to his feet and Barney hoped he would throw a punch. He couldn’t wait to waste the kid. But Clifford’s two buddies grabbed him, again whispering in his ear, and the fight left Clifford’s body. He dusted himself off and confidently walked away. As they passed Hawkeye, Clifford stopped to point at the shrimp, who was propped up against the building and barely coherent. The shrimp lunged at the three but Hawkeye easily caught him and pulled him back–a mercy move; even if he’d been stone sober, the frat guys would have easily wasted the little pipsqueak. Barney was thrilled to see the three disappear around the corner. “I’ve got a cab coming,” Hawkeye said, steadying the shrimp with one hand. “Thing is, the address this kid’s giving me is the football house. No way does he live there.” “Doesn’t matter,” Barney said. “I’m tired of looking at him.” Ox’s girlfriend stopped to thank Barney on her way out the door. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Barney asked. “He left like an idiot to fight those punks and never came back,” she said. “I’m kind of pissed at him.” Suddenly, for some reason, the shrimp whimpered and reached out for her. Poor guy was struggled to get even a single word out but was too wasted to do even that. “You know this kid?” Barney asked. She backed away with a look of disgust on her face. “Never seen him before in my life.” As she walked away, Hawkeye threw the shrimp in a cab. He held one skinny arm out the window as it pulled away like he was reaching for her. “What a creep,” Barney said, happy to finally have all of this college kid nonsense resolved with his night almost over. “I’d hate to be him when he wakes up tomorrow.” The rest of the night passed uneventfully, and Barney was thrilled to finally punch out and head home. Tomorrow was a big squat day, and he had to be up early. Still, the night kind of felt unresolved. In the parking lot Barney spotted the trio again and his adrenaline surged. Clifford was leaning against his car! Now that he was off the clock, with no witnesses, he couldn’t wait to put these punks away. “I’m giving you one warning to step away from my car, and I’m really hoping you choose to ignore it.” Barney walked slowly now, swinging his huge arms to emphasize his bulk. He couldn’t wait to cream these fuckers. “I tell ya what,” Clifford said without moving a muscle. “You move me from this spot and we’ll all take off, and you’ll never have to see any of us again.” Barney snorted. He grabbed a handful of Clifford’s shirt, noticing that the two sidekicks had moved in to flank him. But before he could do anything further, all three started to chant in some weird language–like Latin played backwards or something. Just the sound of the words made Barney’s head hurt and shocked him breathless. Suddenly a thick fog rolled in around him, so dense Barney couldn’t see anything. As it slowly dissipated, Barney was shocked to see Clifford, whose shirt he still held in his hand, had gotten huge somehow! Barney was staring up at him–and, he realized in a panic, the two others behind him! He let go of Clifford and stumbled back, disoriented. Then he noticed it wasn’t just the frat guys: his car, all the other cars, the whole parking lot had gotten bigger somehow. Then he looked down and saw an unfamiliar body. Since he was a teen his bulk had impeded his view of the ground, but now his body was narrow and spindly. His clothes had shrunk to accommodate his new body, now the size of a ten year old. “What? How?” Barney squeaked in his new body’s voice, a pit in his stomach that grew with Clifford’s widening smile. “A little fraternity magic. A trick we use to get rid of our enemies. So come on, big man. The deal still stands. Move me and we’ll leave.” Clifford’s flunkies each grabbed one of Barney’s scrawny arms, holding him easily. Little Barney audibly pissed his pants and the three fratboys keeled over with laughter.
  7. an0n12

    Coach Knows Best

    Coach had started me on some new drug he wouldn’t tell me anything about asides from “You’ll get gains like you’ve never seen” and a cryptic warning to “keep it in my fucking pants”, as in no sex, no masturbation, no release what so ever. Now normally this wouldn’t bother me…too much despite my high libido I can hold off for some time if need be but something was different while I was on this miracle drug. I’d been using it for two weeks now under the constant supervision of my coach and made some amazing strides in mass and strength, I’ve gained over 20lbs of muscle and broken every single one of my max lifts by a substantial amount. Hell all of my clothes look like they’re going to burst off me now with such growth in a short time but the one thing that has been worrying me the most is…well…my junk has been effected too, both my dick and balls are constantly swollen and very tender. In fact I swear they’ve grown along with the rest of me. Though even if I wanted to finally jack off and get rid of some pressure in my over burdened sack it damned near hurts to even touch it so I’ve left well enough alone. Today coach and I are making a video for his social media and he’s made sure I’m wearing my spandex clothes to show off my recent size as his prize client. He’s had hands all over me during the video to demonstrate for viewers the proper movements, my body is so sensitive at this point any touch is electrifying to me and my swollen muscles and genitals constantly rubbing my spandex clothes are keeping me on edge the entire video shoot. I’d thought if coach doesn’t stop soon I’d blow on camera but we thankfully finished before I did. I headed to the locker room to calm myself down and got a look in the mirror just how fucking obvious my excitement was now, my dick was pointing straight up half way up to my chest rubbing on my abs with every movement trapped there by my spandex shirt while my balls were so heavy and swollen they had weighed my shorts down enough you could see my bush and part of my dick through the opening between my shirt and shorts. As I very, very, gingerly touched them out of both pride and curiosity of their new size coach comes out of no where to congratulate me on a job well done with a hearty slap to my ass. After the last two weeks and my current situation that was enough to do it. The dam burst right then and there, a dam trying to hold back the Pacific Ocean but failing spectacularly. Coach started to cuss telling me I was in for it now and boy was he right. He told, as I was cumming a nigh non stop stream all over my front side, that until the body fully process the drug you can’t cum at all or you lose everything you gained while on it, or in other words I was about to cum twenty plus pounds of muscle all over the locker room floor and myself. Twenty pounds or in other words around three to four gallons of fluid was about to force it’s way out of the only exit it had, my dick. The coach smirked at me as he watched me thrash about turning my black clothes almost totally white and make a puddle spread over the entire room. He told me that to make up for lost time now that I couldn’t hold it in we are going to have to do a double dose at the very least, maybe a triple dose (he said forebodingly), I couldn’t process what he was saying as I was still in the throes of the worst/best orgasm of my life. Soon the flow tapered off and my hurting dick and balls finally calmed down back to a more manageable size as coach threw a towel on me telling me to clean up and meet him in the gym to start working back what I just wasted.
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