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Found 572 results

  1. I have probably gone down this road before but lately I have been keenly aware that there a couple of dozen classic stories that I visit over and over and over again when it's time to, well, you know! I thought I would share MINE in hopes of encouraging my fellow muscle devotees to share THEIRS! This list is in alphabetical order by story title (not favorites or most visited.) Ditto, this is not to say that these are my only go-to stories. I have MANY favorite stories / authors; these are just the ones I visit most frequently (so if you're name isn't on the list, please don't feel aggrieved -- it just means you're that much more special!) The stories (authors) are: A Perfect Revenge (FanTCMan) Adam Ponyboy (QuoteTheRaven) And Scott Grew Huge (QuoteTheRaven) Barista Muscle (BBMSN) Becoming Travis (QuoteTheRaven) Boy God (LuvsMusl) Can I be a Freak? (Falseyedee) Carniceria (Josef Howard) How I Got Huge (LuvsMusl) I am a Freak (Falseyedee) Me and the Old Man (BBMSN) Muscle Service Station (Josef Howard) My New Buddy's Arms (BBMSN) My New Pal (BBMSN) Neighbor Kid (LuvsMusl) Of Scott -- Of Growing Huge (QuoteTheRaven) One Hundred and One (Josef Howard) Pastor Muscle (BBMSN) Simon's Affirmation (LuvsMusl) Surprise Visit (Josef Howard) Wrestling Camp (BBMSN) The Bet (Jaypat) The Change (Msclbldr) The Dealer (Josef Howard) The Jock Bully (Jaypat) The Pack (MscleNBots) The Prisoner (John D.) The Vortex (Msclbldr) Walkabout (Msclbldr) If you're a connoisseur of great muscle growth stories and you haven't read these, get cracking! They're all too delicious! Read and enjoy! Richard
  2. pasidious

    Camjerk 2

    Here is the second part of Camjerk. I hope it's as good as you expect! Please let me know what you think, even if it sucks. Part 1 ______________________________________________ My cock twitched, and I felt a surge of cum shoot into the shaft and launch from the tip into the air, landing on my keyboard, and then more spurts, hitting my face, my shirt, and even more on the keyboard. I shot volley after volley, until it was just dribbling down and onto my hand. I sat there, out of breath, panting, looking at my dick as the remnants of my cum-fest drooled down my hand and my dick. That was a huge load, surprisingly so, after the load I already blew so short of a time ago. I looked back at the screen on my desk, and there he was, the person responsible for my ejaculation. My heart was thumping in my chest. I didn't know how to respond to him. But then it occurred to me that he had the wrong person. He must have me confused with someone else. That's gotta be it. There's no way he's my neighbor. I finally removed my hand from my dick. Everything was a mess, but at this point, I was fully invested in this dude. Nothing would stop me from enjoying this. But what do I say? I wanna see more, and if I tell him he's surely thinking of someone else, he might disappear. But he spoke first. "Dude, you there?" He was simply sitting there now, a concerned look on his face. I didn't like how I couldn't see his entire body anymore, but it was still so hot seeing him from the abs up. His arms were bulging, and he wasn't even flexing. His pecs were jutting out, nipples pointing down, and they had such hot pec cleavage. His abs were clenching as he would lean forward and back in his chair. His obliques were prominent, too. So fucking hot. "Dude?" He called for me again. I looked at his face and he was so cute. He looked worried. I let out a sigh, and I guess I had to say something. Me: i'm here. "Oh okay, you had me worried there for a sec," he said. "Thought maybe you logged off." Me: no i'm here. "Well then don't leave me hangin' dude! How 'bout it? Wanna come over?" He was smiling, and his traps were bulging. I don't know if he was flexing them on purpose, but they were looking pretty big just then. And I felt my dick beginning to plump up again. But I had to come clean. Me: I have to be honest with you, i don't think i am who you think i am, i have no private info in my profile and there's no way you could know who i am. you mustve gotten lucky with my name. It was harder for me to care about my typing and spelling with my hands still covered in jizz. But I'm guessing he didn't mind my less formal style. "No, Mike, I know exactly who you are. I've passed you in the hall a bunch of times and I think you're hot. And uhhh... I hope you don't get mad but... funny thing about ground floor apartments is I can see inside your place. I swear I was just trying to learn more about you to see what you like, and I happened to catch you on this site. Sooo I decided to make my own account and hoped you would join my room." What. The. Fuck. He fucking watched me looking at dudes on this site? Which means he most likely watched me jerk off, too. "Please don't be mad, dude." What the fuck do I say? I mean, I'm definitely putting up better goddamn window treatment, for sure. I looked around and had to make sure no one was watching me this second. I sighed. I looked back at my computer screen and saw his cute face. All the anger I was initially feeling washed away. Well, his cute face AND his big bulging muscles made me rethink my emotions. Me: ok prove to me you know i am who i am. what do i look like? He grinned. "You're about 7 feet tall, have a mullet and a beard, and you like to dance naked listening to Toby Keith." I couldn't help but laugh at the last part. He had to be joking. And then he chuckled. "I'm kidding. You're around 6 feet tall, you have hair kind of like mine... wavy, but a darker brown. Not long, but not exactly short, either. Green eyes. Kind of athletic looking, but hard to tell because you often stay pretty covered up. The few times I've seen you wear shorts your lower legs look pretty thick. You tend to wear button-down shirts, and I believe you were wearing one even today when I saw you earlier." He stopped, keeping that smile on his face. Fuck, though. He was right. And I was wearing a button-down shirt today. Me: how'd you know about the Toby Keith thing? He laughed. "Well, guess I got lucky with that. But dude, was I right about the rest of it?" Me: yeah, i guess you do know who i am "Awesome! So, then, how about it?" Me: i guess this is all a bit too surreal though, i mean how could i believe a dude who can literally grow muscle and get huge would just happen to live in the same building as me AND want to meet me? "Dude you just watched it happen multiple times, and as for seeing how real I am, I guess you'd have to come over to find out." He winked. I pondered the situation for a few seconds. My heart was pounding, in truth. I knew already that I wanted to go meet him, to see how real this all was. Watching him grow in person would be infinitely better than just seeing it on a screen. But I also wanted to have some additional fun, first. Me: alright i think i might just take you up on that offer. but first... I sent that message, and I watched him read it. He sat in that chair, reading his screen, and I was still in awe looking at his muscled body. His round, bulbous shoulders rose and fell as he breathed, his arms bulging at his sides. His triceps really stood out, and it was so hot seeing how much they bulged and how I could see them even from the fronts of his arms. And they still had that vascularity, both arms had a prominent vein running down each that really stood out. "But first what?" he said, but immediately after that there was that telltale "DING" noise. I tipped him again. "Oh fuck, oh fuck..." he pushed himself away from his desk and stood up. His dick was only semi-hard now, but I expected it to grow and harden soon. He grinned. "So you do want me even bigger, huh? Watch." Just hearing him speak now was making my dick harden up again. He stood, arms at his sides, and I watched as his abs clenched. "Ohhh yeah..." he moaned a little. His pecs started to inflate some more, pushing out, growing bigger and bigger. His obliques became even more prominent, really making that V line stand out even more. That V line was so hot. And fuck, his abs. I watched as two new bricks etched themselves out, and he had a perfect 8 pack. He flexed into a double bicep, and I watched his arms rise up into huge boulders. "Watch this," he said. My dick throbbed. He turned around so his back was facing the camera, and holy FUCK. His back was a sight to behold, now covered with muscle. His arms still flexed, I watched them growing and throbbing, pulsing bigger and bigger with each of his heartbeats. "Unnghhhh!" I heard him moan, and his lats were widening more. His wings were flaring, and his V-taper was becoming more and more pronounced. "Oh fuck yeah, this feels so fucking good, dude!" And wow, I've never noticed glutes before, but with his back to me, I could see his ass growing. I could actually see the striations in his ass muscles, and he was even flexing them occasionally. I watched them bulge and contract as they grew. My dick was throbbing so hard, and oozing pre again. AGAIN. His ass was so amazing to look at, and I just wanted so badly to... well, I had to be honest with myself. I wanted to fuck him. "AHH!" My attention snapped back to his growth and I saw him suddenly shoot upward another inch in height. "Oh fuck yeah," he said, softly. FUCK. And his legs were swelling. He dropped his arms and turned back around, and I saw his arms hanging at an unbelievable angle from his body. Those lats were huge, even unflexed. I could now see his quads again as they grew, each head of the muscle clearly defined. His legs were pressing into each other now, and he had to widen his stance. And then... "Ahhhhh" he mostly sighed, and I watched his amazing dick starting to harden. It pulsed bigger and bigger and BIGGER, growing in time with his heartbeats, until it was standing up and hard as a steel pipe. And then it continued growing, thicker and longer. "Fuck yes, I love when my dick grows..." he said. His dick grew at least another two inches longer, and amazingly thick, and it was even beginning to leak pre. He flexed into a most muscular, and even growled a little for me. "Grrrrr!" I didn't even have my hand on my dick, and I came. I exploded. My dick suddenly throbbed harder than I'd ever felt before, and a huge volley of hot white cum shot out and straight up, so high it almost hit the ceiling, but dropped back down and splashed onto my keyboard. And then another shot, hitting my chin. It splattered all over. And then several other shots that continued coating my computer area with my spunk. I relaxed and just let it happen until it was just a slow dribble running out of my tip and down my shaft. He continued flexing on camera the whole time I was cumming, seemingly aware that I had reached my limit of sexual arousal. Or maybe not. I'm guessing flexing is what I'd do, too, if I'd just grown huge muscles, regardless of who was watching or what was going on. I was breathing hard, almost out of breath from my explosion. I could only sit there and watch him flexing those amazing muscles. But then he turned to the camera and walked back to his desk, pulling his chair back behind him and sitting down. Again, his frame took up considerably more space in the video shot than it had before. His shoulders were so wide now they were off the screen. He adjusted the camera upward since he was too tall to stay in the frame after that height increase. "So dude, did you enjoy that?" He said, smiling that smile. His face was even cocky, now. And that made this all that much hotter. Me: what do you think "Sweet! I did too, I love growing so fucking much. I bet you made a mess, huh?" I was becoming overly aware of how much of my spunk was everywhere. I'd probably have to buy a new keyboard altogether. I love how he already knew I loved watching him grow again, and what happened as a result. "So, how about it? You wanna come over?" he asked again. Me: hell yes i wanna come over "FUCK yeah!" he exclaimed. He even pumped his fists into the air. It was cute. It also made his arms flex, which was hot. "I'm on the next floor up in 2C. When can I expect you?" Me: uhhh as much as id like to run to your place right now, i think i ought to clean myself up first. ive made a big mess. give me some time? He laughed a hearty laugh. "Alright alright, but remember I know where you live so you better come over." He flexed his big gun right in front of the camera to emphasize his "threat," and then laughed some more. More of a giggle that time. And god, have I mentioned he was still cute, even as a muscle beast? Me: yeah i know where you live now too ill be there asap "Sweet, dude, can't wait!" He flexed a double bicep one more time, then clicked something with his mouse. The screen went blank and it said "The model is offline." I sighed. My dick was hardening, yet again, as I thought of going to see him for real. Plus that final flex he did before going offline made my heart flutter, too. FUCK! What was I waiting for?! I jumped out of my chair and started removing my clothes. They were covered in jizz. I used my undershirt to wipe off what mess I could from my desk and chair. I'd have to clean it all for real when I could, but I didn't want to waste any more time. I threw my clothes onto the floor near my hamper. I'd have thrown them in, but it just felt strange mixing them with my "normal" dirty clothes. Completely nude, I walked to my bathroom to shower. I didn't want to go see this dude all dirty and sweaty. I turned on the water, waiting for it to heat up. I looked into the mirror, and thought back to what he said about my being "athletic" looking. I guess my own time in the gym has paid off. I had a bit of a chest formed, pecs that were kind of full and pushing out. My arms weren't big or anything, but they were defined. I flexed an arm for myself, and I guess I could admit I had a nice ball of a bicep. And I did have abs, so there was that. Barely a 6 pack, but they were there. I looked down at my calves and remembered how he said I had "pretty thick" lower legs. Yeah, I guess my calves might even be my best muscle, really. I ran a lot, even before starting going to the gym on a more regular basis. I loved how they would bulge when I walked. I always thought big calves were sexy. Steam was permeating the air, and I realized the water was hot already. I flexed for myself once more, thinking about how great it must feel to grow. My dick twitched and started to grow a bit, but I went and adjusted the water temperature so I could shower. I stood in the shower, feeling the water washing over my body. My dick remained in a semi-hard state. My mind was picturing... wait, I never even got his name! Well, whatever his name is, I kept picturing and replaying in my mind the times that he grew on my computer screen. I had to keep refocusing on the task at hand; showering quickly. My dick kept twitching and pulsing, wanting to grow hard, and then I'd be tempted to jerk off again. No time for that. I washed all the jizz off my body, and made sure to shampoo my hair really well. I'm sure I got some cum there, too. And then the image of him when he was still skinny as a rail popped into my head. Watching him throw his head back as his shoulders broadened for the first time, and flexing his skinny arm and watching his bicep take form and swell. FUCK my dick was growing fast. Soon it was standing straight up. I shuddered, and kept my hands away from my dick as I rinsed off the remaining soap from my body. I hopped out of the shower, my dick bouncing as I did, and toweled off. I needed to get moving. I didn't want my "date", for lack of a better term right now, to be kept waiting. I went to my bedroom and quickly got dressed, pulling on a simple black T-shirt and cargo shorts. I went back to the bathroom and fixed my hair so it wasn't all over the place, and I couldn't help but notice that I did look pretty athletic. My shirt was hugging my body quite nicely. I never bothered to really check myself out, but my "date" made me start thinking about it when he said I looked athletic. I was actually really happy that the gym was doing me some good. I put my shoes on and left my apartment, being sure to lock the door behind me. I headed up the stairs, and then made my way to the end of the hallway where 2C was. My heart was thudding in my chest, pounding faster and faster as I approached the door. I wasn't sure what to expect. I mean, I had an image in my mind of what would be standing in the doorway when the door was opened, but this all seemed too surreal, like I was dreaming. I was so nervous. I took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. I couldn't believe what I saw when the door opened. It was him. But, it was... pre-transformation him. He was shorter than me, maybe around 5'9", and he was super skinny. "Hey," he greeted me, smiling. He was fully clothed again, wearing a black T-shirt, like mine, and another pair of red gym shorts. My mouth had to have been hanging open. I was expecting the muscle-bound guy who I saw on the Camjerk website! "Come in, dude!" he said as he stepped aside. I tentatively stepped forward, entering his apartment. His place was similarly laid out. The kitchen area was just inside the doorway, and beyond was the living room area. To the left was a short hallway that led to the bedroom and bathroom. His place was pretty clean for a guy so young. I mean, I wasn't much older, but usually 21 year-olds aren't so focused on cleanliness. "I, uhhh, suppose you might be wondering why I'm this size again." I nodded. "Funny thing about my ability is when the source is cut off, I begin to shrink back to this size. Which is okay! I love to experience it over and over again." He grinned at me. That face... up close, and real... it was even cuter. He was so attractive. I felt my dick twitch. I started to wonder what his plan was, if he had one at all. Was he going to grow again for me? Was he going to have me on cam with him while he got tips from other people? I realized just then that I was making this awkward. I hadn't even said anything to him yet. "Yeah! I mean... I'm sure it does feel great. To grow, I mean," I finally blurted out. I was stuttering. "I'm Zach, by the way. I realized earlier that I never told you my name. Come on, let's go sit. Want anything to drink?" he asked. "Nah, man, I'm okay for now." "You sure? I've got beer, now that I'm old enough to buy it," he chuckled. I smiled, and laughed a little with him. "No, man, I'm good. For now, anyway." He gestured towards the sofa in the living room. It was pointed at a surprisingly large TV that was mounted on the wall. We both walked over to it, and he sat down. I sat down next to him, and we both didn't say anything for a few seconds. I didn't know what to say, really. I just stared at the blank TV screen as though there was something on. I had to say something, though. This felt too awkward, and I wanted to see where things went. "So, what's the plan?" I asked. He giggled. "I don't know, dude. I wasn't even sure you'd come over, to be honest. But, uhhh, I just wanna finally say it in person. You're hot." He blushed just then, his face turning bright red. I chuckled a little. "You know I think you're hot already. I came like, three times watching you on cam. Made a mess of everything. Didn't even touch myself for at least one of those times. And you're super cute." I felt the blood rush to my face and knew I was turning red as well. He grinned. "So, I have to ask, are you gonna try to grow again?" He smiled a mischievous, almost evil smile. "Of course, dude. Like I said before, I wanna see how much fun we can have without computers separating us." "Well, then, do you wanna go to your computer so you can get back on cam?" "Oh no, dude, that's just one way. A tip is like appreciation, right? So, there's other ways I can feel... appreciated." The smile that followed that statement was definitely evil. I felt my dick stir. He then said, "Have I mentioned yet that you look really hot? I've never seen you wear such a tight shirt before. Nice pecs." He nodded towards my chest, and I guess my chest was pushing it out a bit. And then he put his hand on my leg, and slowly slid it down toward my knee. Oh god, my dick was definitely growing and pulsing now. I leaned toward him, and he toward me, and we kissed for the first time. It was a soft kiss, light, but it felt so nice. My dick responded with a throb, and butterflies entered my stomach. We smiled at each other. "Ready?" he asked. Fuck. I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep from cumming too soon. "H-how are you gonna do it?" I asked in response. "Just play along, and you'll see," he said, almost in a whisper. "You're already hard," he said, definitely in a whisper that time. He nodded toward my crotch. He lightly brushed his hand over it, and it made me shudder. He took his hand away, and flexed his skinny arms. There was barely a mound rising up on each. It was almost something you'd expect to see as a joke, and I felt ashamed for even thinking that. "Feel them, Mike," he said, still whispering. He said to play along, and my heart was pounding. I reached my hands over, and placed them on his biceps... or what would usually be considered biceps, had there been any there. I rubbed them, squeezed a little, and let my fingers slide along the length of his arms. "Now feel my chest," he commanded, a little louder this time. I put my hands on his flat chest, and felt it through his shirt. I let my hands run from one side to the other, and even ran them down to his stomach. His abs weren't there anymore, but his stomach wasn't exactly soft, either. My hands ran back up his torso, and I let them graze his shoulders. Then up to his traps and neck. "Oh fuck, oh fuck... yeah, this feels amazing, dude. I'm picturing it, what it'd be like if I was bigger, and you feeling me up, and I can feel it. Oh fuck, it's happening... unnghhh." And holy fuck. He threw his head back, like he did when he first grew on Camjerk, and I saw it happening again. For real. His shoulders were widening, growing, rounding out. They were getting bigger. And his traps were slowly taking shape, rising up slightly, swelling. I saw some movement under his shirt, and his chest was beginning to push out. Two mounds were slowly taking shape under the fabric, and I could feel my dick throbbing in response. FUCK! He raised his head again, looking at me, smirking. "This feels even better than before, dude." He straightened his arms out, and started flexing them again. This time, though, his biceps were taking shape. He flexed, and then unflexed, then flexed again. Each time, his biceps bulged up bigger than before. "Fuck yeah, oh yeah," he'd grunt with each flex. He squeezed out one final flex with his arms, and they stopped swelling. "Oh god, dude, that felt so good." My dick was throbbing so hard in my shorts, and I could feel the wetness of pre leaking into the fabric. FUCK I didn't want to cum so soon, but I didn't know if I could take much more. I didn't want to soil my clean shorts already, although the pre was already kind of doing that. He kept his arms flexed, and they were already pretty hot. Nicely shaped, bulging up, and I could already see those veins from before. But then he took his right hand and placed it under my chin, and pulled my face to his and kissed me. Hard. "Mmmmf" I gasped with his mouth on mine. His tongue entered, and I attempted to wrestle it with my own. I felt his hand running up my leg, and I mean up, not down like last time, and I shuddered. If he touched my dick, I'd probably cum. Luckily he pulled away, and broke the kiss. "You ready for more?" he asked, somewhat cockily. "Dude, I don't know if I can keep from cumming..." I bashfully responded. He glanced at the tent I was pitching, and smirked. "Duh, dude. That's the point. If I'm not making you cum, then I'm not doing my job. And, uh, I'll tell you now, it helps." And then he grabbed my wrists with his hands and placed them on his newly formed pec muscles. "Ohhh yes..." he breathed. I took the hint and let my hands press and feel his now harder chest, and let my hands roam over his newly formed muscles. I made my way to his arms, and they felt way better than before. They were harder, and felt muscly. I moved my hands to his legs and prodded them through his shorts, and they too were more muscled. I heard him gasp. "Shit, dude, I can feel it coming again. Oh god, yeah, here it comes, it's happening!" He closed his eyes, and his mouth was hanging open as the sensation washed over him. God it even looked like it felt good. My dick was oozing pre, throbbing, and my shorts were getting wetter and wetter. And then I saw it happening. He was swelling all over. His shoulders were growing bigger, wider, and I could see his traps rising up again. This time they became more pronounced, pushing the collar of his T-shirt up. His chest was pushing out of his shirt, creating definite outlines in the fabric. His eyes snapped open, and he grinned. "Fuck yeah, dude, I wanna grow so big for you," he said, and I felt my dick spasm. I was so close to exploding into my shorts. I could feel it. And then I saw his lats taking form again, pushing out against the sides of his shirt. He lifted the bottom of his shirt and his abs were taking shape again, getting back some definition. And his legs, I saw them pushing up against his shorts as he sat there. Then, he flexed his arms. They bulged, bigger than seconds before, pushing up into the fabric, filling the space that was left in the sleeves of his shirt until they tightened. He straightened his arms and flexed again, grunting, and the sleeves were even tighter, digging into his skin. I felt the pressure in my crotch reach its peak as he flexed his arms, and I felt the sharp sensation of an ejaculation erupting from my balls and into the shaft of my cock, shooting through its length and out of the tip. "FUCK!" I yelled, as I felt shot after shot of cum shooting into my shorts, a hot wet sensation expanding throughout. "Oh fuck," I said again. I shuddered, and I heard Zach chuckle. I looked over at him, and he had an evil glint in his eyes, and a smirk on his face. "Dude, you just came for me, and--oh fuck--this is about to get--ungghh--really fun!" His neck thickened and his voice deepened a little. His traps swelled upward again. He stood up from the sofa and planted himself in front of me, and I caught a glimpse of his calves swelling and bulging. He caught my gaze and said "It's only just beginning," and flashed that smile again. "Unnghhfuck" he moaned, and he started growing. His chest was really swelling fast, pushing out, pressing into the fabric of his shirt, causing stress lines to form. His shoulders were broadening again, growing bigger and bigger, and his sleeves were riding up his arms. What little space left in his sleeves was gone, and now even unflexed, his arms completely filled them. And fuck, his legs were pressing into his shorts, now. Once again, he looked like a junior bodybuilder, and was still growing. And then I felt my dick starting to harden again. Jesus, I wonder how much I could cum in one day? My balls were producing cum just for Zach. "Ohh yeah, I love this part, don't you?" My attention was brought back to Zach when he spoke, and I quickly realized what he was going to do. He had his arms raised, and I was excited to see it happen. "Unghh" he grunted suddenly, and he grew upward by maybe an inch, surprising even him. Small tears could be heard as his shirt was giving up the fight to contain his torso. "No fair! I'm flexing out of this shirt!" he exclaimed, and I guess I had to agree, it's hotter to see him flex out of a shirt. My dick agreed with a throb. He raised his arms up, and then BAM! Flexed into a mind-blowing double-bicep, his arms exploded with size, and the enormous sound of tearing cloth resounded through the apartment. RRIIIIIIP!!! The sleeves exploded, ripping all the way to the collar of his shirt, the sleeves reduced literally just to shreds. "FUCK YEAH!" he exclaimed. He took the remains of his shirt and ripped the rest from his body, leaving his torso bare. "Fuck that shirt, dude. I want you to see these muscles!" "OH fuck, Zach..." I gasped, my dick throbbing, pitching a huge tent in my shorts. "Yeah, dude. Fuck yeah. Getting fucking huge, right?" I nodded rapidly, feeling pre leaking from my dick again into my already soggy shorts. He grinned, but shook his head. "No, no I'm not. This is small. You wanna see me get huge? Come on, we're not behind keyboards anymore. Make me huge, dude!" He bent down and flexed his arm in my face. The bicep bulged up, huge, with a large vein running its length. I felt my inhibitions disappear with that muscle bulging in my face, and I moved my face closer and gave it a kiss. I kissed his bicep, and then sucked a little on the peak. I licked it, and then ran my tongue all around it. I heard Zach chuckle a bit, which then turned into a small moan. "Ummff..." I stood up, grasping his arm with my hands, and stood face to face with him. He kept his arm flexed, and I squeezed it with my left hand. But then I took my right hand and started rubbing him all over, starting with his pecs. I poked the now larger muscles, feeling the rocks they'd become. So fucking hard. I ran my hand to his abs, and traced my finger along the crevices between the bricks, and I could feel them clenching with his breaths. My hand wandered back up to his lats, and then to his back, where a vicious terrain of muscle had developed. My left hand never left his hot bicep, the muscle pulsing under it. My right hand wandered up to his traps, and fuck, they felt so amazing. I loved traps, and I knew Zach did, too. "Oh god, yesssss..." Zach breathed. And then I bent my knees and put my face near his chest, and ran my tongue up his pec cleavage. "Oh fuck, dude, FUCK!" I could feel Zach shudder beneath my hands, and I knew I had to be doing amazing things, priming him for an epic growth spurt. I brought my hands down, both of them, and put them on his ass. His glutes had grown a little, and I squeezed each cheek. I felt him flex, and my dick throbbed, squirting more pre into my shorts. "Oh god, yeah, fuck yeah, bro it's coming, get ready... watch me, look at what--unnghh--you've done to me...." I stepped back, and got a good look at him as he stood there. His mouth was hanging open again, almost like he was moaning with no sound. His arms were hanging at his sides, and I noticed his triceps were bulging. I saw his chest heaving from his heavy breathing, and then I saw something else. His chest was growing. His pecs were ballooning outward, swelling, as his nipples pointed more and more downward. And then I saw his traps rising up towards his ears as his shoulders broadened even more. "Ohhhhh yeahhhh this feels so good!" he moaned. He started to flex his chest, bouncing his pecs. His abs were developing further, becoming more and more defined, and it was definitely an 8-pack again. Watching his abs clenching with his breathing and movement was so fucking hot. And his obliques were becoming more defined as well, making that V-line really stand out, and fuck, who doesn't find a V-line sexy? But then I heard a soft rip. I looked toward the source, and I realized his legs were growing, too. His quads had gotten so big his shorts looked painted on, and then I heard another rip. "Fuuuuck..." Zach whispered. "Gonna flex, dude, make these shorts disappear..." he whispered again. And then he did it. He flexed his quads as hard as he could, and his shorts exploded all the way up to the waistband, his legs bulging with pure muscle, huge defined quads exposed to the air. His shorts were just flaps of cloth hanging from an elastic band around his waist. And his legs were still growing. He then took a moment to flex his calves, and they too were growing bigger and bigger. But then I noticed his arms. They were being pushed farther away from his body by his growing, swelling lats. And what lats they were! FUCK! They were becoming wings, and his arms were growing, too! He flexed his right arm, looking at it lustfully. It exploded with size, peaking high into the air, veins wrapping all around. He flexed his other arm, and it was even bigger. He was beyond bodybuilder big, now, and I felt a strong compulsion envelop me. I stepped forward, pressing my body into him. My hard dick pressed against his abs, and I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his back muscles. I placed my hands on his ass feeling the insanely hard muscle. I squeezed like I did before, and his ass was rock hard. FUCK! I was grinding my dick into his body, and I felt the cum welling up from my balls as an imminent ejaculation was developing. And then my dick exploded, shooting more cum into my already wet shorts, and I continued pressing my dick into his hard body. Shot after shot of cum squirted into my shorts, and I moaned. Zach chuckled. "I love how much you're enjoying this," he said. He flexed his arms, and I reached up and felt them. "You just came again, and--fuck--I can feel it coming." Butterflies entered my stomach again as I realized he was going to grow more. "Ahhh! AHH!" he yelled, as he shot up several inches in height, soon towering over me. His body was expanding in every direction now, growing more and more, packing pounds of muscle onto his frame. "Oh god, this is bigger than I've ever gotten before!" His height was continuing to increase, and his muscles continued growing. The waistband of his shorts snapped off, and the remains fluttered to the floor, and he now stood completely nude. He turned around, and flexed his biceps, making his back bulge, and his ass was phenomenal. His glutes were so muscled and big, and I realized now that I wanted nothing more than to stick my dick into his ass. I dropped my shorts, finally freeing myself of the mess I was wearing. My dick sprang out, hard again already. Or maybe I never went soft. It's hard to be soft around this much muscle. Zach had to be around 6'5" now, and considerably taller than me. And definitely more muscular. But he stood there, flexing his biceps, with his back to me. He then straightened his arms and finally flexed his triceps, and holy shit, they were amazing. His triceps were perfect horseshoes, and absolutely humongous. And yes, from behind, his traps were really evidently huge. He almost looked like he had no neck. But, he kept his back to me. I could hear my own breathing as I looked at him and lusted after his body. My eyes drifted back to his ass, and I could see striations in his glutes, and I felt my dick throb. I stepped forward, and pressed the head of my dick into his crack. He gasped. "There's the fuckin' tip I want, dude," he said, gasping again, as I pressed harder. "But I need more than just the tip. Give me all of it." I didn't hesitate, and pressed myself all the way into him, and it felt amazing. It felt like we were two puzzle pieces meant to fit together. His hole was so hot, and I could feel his muscles clenching around me like a loving caress. I started fucking him from behind, ramming myself into him. The waves of pleasure radiating around my body were like nothing I've ever felt, and Zach started grunting and moaning. "Oh fuck, dude, yeah, fuck me, unghhhh," he moaned. "This is--oh fuck--the biggest tip I've ever--nnnggggg--gotten!" And then I saw it. Every time I thrusted into him, he grew and bulged all over. Another thrust, and his muscles swelled. And then again, only this time his height increased more. I was already getting close to cumming, and I increased the fervor of my fucking. More and more I fucked him, and he continued getting bigger and bigger, grunting with each thrust. I felt the unmistakable pressure building up in my crotch, and I knew I was gonna cum. "Fuck, Zach, I'm gonna cum!" "Do it, dude. Fucking cum in me," Zach breathed, his massive body heaving. And that was it. He clenched around my dick once more, and I felt the explosion take place that launched cum through my shaft and into his ass. I continued thrusting into him, feeling shot after shot of cum leaving the tip of my dick. And fuck, it was a lot. I noticed there was even some dribbling out of his hole. I've never cum this much before at once, much less in an entire day. My dick was wild for Zach. "NNghhhhhaaahhhhh!" Zach moaned loudly, and from behind him I saw his own cum launching into the air as he shot his huge load all over the room, hitting the walls, furniture, even the ceiling. He had to be over 7 feet tall, much taller than me now. But then I heard a familiar noise. A "DING" sound. I heard Zach chuckle. I looked around, and saw a red light. It was attached to a fucking camera! I looked at Zach, who'd turned around to face me. "Zach, what the fuck..." I started, but he spoke over me. "Mike, dude, that tip was for you." And then I felt my entire body throb, and immense pleasure surged through my limbs. I was growing.
  3. arpeejay

    The Kid

    Part 1 By Richard Jasper I was watching my trainer spot the kid on what turned out to be the kid’s first successful attempt to bench more than 200 lbs. “That was 205, right?” he exclaimed. “Two plates, plus four 10s, plus the bar?” Frank chuckled. “You got it right,” he replied. The kid had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. You could tell he was totally psyched. “Great job,” I said, extending my hand. “You’ll hit 225 in another week or two, especially if Frank here is spotting you.” I stuck out my hand. “Derek Harcourt,” I said. “It’s Blake, right?” The kid’s eyes widened slightly. I’d seen him around and I knew that Frank knew him but whenever Frank and I trained together he always ran away. “Oh, sure, Mr. Harcourt, I’ve seen you around many times,” he replied, giving my hand a nice firm shake. “Frank’s told me all about you! Nice to be ‘formally’ introduced! Blake Michael Smith.” I frowned. “Hey,” I said, trying not to bark. “None of that ‘Mister’ stuff, OK? I’m old enough as it is! Just call me Derek, OK?” He laughed. “OK, Derek, you got it!” I call him The Kid but Blake wasn’t really, of course. He was, I later learned, 22 and recently graduated from nearby Ball State University, from which Frank, a few years older, had also graduated. But when you’re over 50, anyone under 30 seems like a kid and Blake was also what I refer to as “pocket-sized” – no more than 5’6 and, I also learned (because I asked), 145 lbs. Light brown hair, brown eyes, nice tan, well-proportioned, beginnings of a six-pack, short blond hair on his arms, clean-shaven. At 52 I was more than twice his age. I was also four inches taller and weighed literally twice as much as he did, 290 lbs. of fur-covered beef. It was a good bet my 24-inch arms were bigger than his quads and it was clear MY quads, 34 inches each, were bigger than his maybe 29-inch waist. “I’ll see you around, Blake,” I said. “Nice to meet you!” Then I went back to doing what I had been doing when I saw Frank setting up to spot him: Curling 275 lbs. for reps.
  4. arpeejay

    A Fine Bromance

    Quick reminder: If you've read one of my stories, you've read ALL of my stories. Proceed with this one (it's new) at your own risk. -- RPJ A Fine Bromance Part 1 By Richard Jasper My new personal trainer stuck out his hand. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Erik Heitkamp. Jake has told me a lot about you!” I shook his hand. “Roger Jessup,” I replied. “Nice to ‘meet’ you.” +++ I had joined this corporate suburban gym six months previously when I realized, at age 49, it was “now or never.” It had been five years since my husband, Stephen, had gone down in a commuter plane crash. Ten years together, gone in a flash. They told me it would have been instantaneous but I had nightmares on a regular basis the first year. Between Stephen’s insurance and the airline settlement I was fixed for life. And would have traded all of it for 10 more minutes with him. The thing was, Stephen had been my lifting buddy as well as my husband. Not so unusual, of course, except that we were very disparate sizes. At 6’1, Stephen was a couple of inches taller than I was but never weighed more than 140 lbs. As for me, I came equipped with naturally broad shoulders and a predisposition towards putting on the pounds in (mostly) all the right places. I was always about twice as strong as he was but he was never less than enthusiastic. His absence made itself known to me on a daily basis in a thousand different ways. Even so, I was surprised when I found I couldn’t make myself go to the gym. Well, I could go and I did, but when I did I was just going through the motions, and after a couple of weeks I would stop – for six months or a year. Then I would start up again. “It’s like this,” I told myself, finally. “I need to have someone there. If I have to pay to have a lifting buddy, so be it.” I told the director of personal trainer right up front: “Nothing against girl trainers, but I want a guy because I want someone who can inspire me,” I said. “Likewise, I’m gay and I am not shy about talking about my life. Whatever trainer I wind up with needs to be able to deal with that.” The PT director just grinned. “I’ve got just the guy!” The guy turned out to be Jake Adams. Blond, blue-eyed, 6’1, 185 lbs., all muscle. Someone, it turned out, who appreciated my encyclopedic knowledge of male bodybuilding and with whom I could chat between sets over the pros and cons of mass versus aesthetics, off-season versus stage ready, and so forth. And, even though he was built like a CrossFit junkie (he wasn’t – he just had a keen interest in gymnastics and athleticism in general) he was perfectly down with what I wanted. “I want to get back to my previous level of conditioning,” I said. “And then go from there.” In six months, we made that happen, or close enough. I was fairly knowledgeable, thanks to previous experience with a personal trainer years previously. Jake kept me on the straight and narrow and in six months I was almost back to where I had been before pilot error took Stephen away from me. Not that it was all that great. At 5’10 and 215 lbs., I had a 46 inch chest, 36 inch waist, 16 inch arms, 26 inch quads, and 18 inch calves (that I never trained – they just grew that way.) But that was two inches MORE on my chest, two inches LESS on my waist, and inch MORE on more arms than the day I walked in the door. (A couple of years before Stephen passed away, when I was at my peak, the chest was 48, the waist was 34, and the arms were 17. I still had a ways to go, obviously!) I still had a lousy bench but I was back to managing five reps at 225, could handle three plates on the t-bar row, and Jake’s eyes about popped when he figured out I could squat 365 for reps and that my one rep max was 455. “Damn, boy,” he said. “That’s waaaay out of my league.” Me oh my, I thought. Nothing like impressing the straight boy to make an old queen’s heart go pitter-pat. Naturally, after six months it was time for him to move on. He said it was because he was just looking for a change. Rumor had it his break-up with Mandy, another personal trainer, was the salient factor. +++ Hence Erik, whose eyes widened slightly when he learned just how firm a grip I had. 24 years old, half my age, just my height, reddish brown hair with a matching well-trimmed beard, big green eyes, long dark lashes, pouty red lips. And, like Jake, about 185 lbs., but whereas Jake was long and lean Erik clearly took after me. Naturally broad shoulders and narrow hips with solid arms and pecs. Unlike me, he had a tiny, flat stomach (the six-pack wasn’t quite there yet) and, much to his chagrin, skimpy calves. “Jake tells me you’re a walking encyclopedia of bodybuilding!” he said enthusiastically. I had to laugh. “You know,” I said. “I’ve been following bodybuilding since I was 12 years old. It’s like the straight kid who memorizes all the MLB or NFL stats. With me, it’s bodybuilders. Who won, how tall they are, how much they weighed in the offseason, how much they weighed on stage, the whole schmear.” He high-fived me. “Hot damn!” he said. “Right up my alley! I l-o-v-e bodybuilding!” Naturally, of course, he was straight as an arrow. And in fact, I soon learned, he had joined Fitness World a month or two previously just after his own traumatic break-up. (I had seen him around, of course, and said “hi” a time or two but this was our first introduction) “Good deal,” I said, then added: “As Jake will have told you, I’m gay as a goose. But I’m also a GUY which means I look! In my case, I look at guys. And me being me, I talk about the guys I’m looking at! So I will look at the guys and you will look at the girls and we can compare notes. Deal?” He laughed. “Deal!” +++ “So what are your goals?” he asked. “Short term: Stronger, harder, bigger,” I said. “Long term: Much bigger!” Erik laughed. “How about something specific?” That was easy: “To be in the same shape I was before I went on hiatus,” I replied. “So about the same weight as I am now with a couple of inches more on my chest, a couple of inches off my waist, and another inch on my arms.” He looked me up and down. “Completely doable,” he said. “You clearly have a lot of muscle memory to work with. We just need to put in the work.” I’m afraid I actually blushed. Believe me, getting a compliment from a cute guy half my age – even a straight one – was much more than I was used to at that point! “And one other thing,” I said. “I would really, really, really like to be able to bench 315 by my 50th birthday three months from now.” He arched an eyebrow. Was he skeptical? “I’ve always had a lousy bench,” I explained. “And it’s been a lifetime goal. If you can get me there, I can promise a nice bonus!” Erik chuckled. “You’re currently benching what? 225 for five reps?” I nodded. “Previously my best ever single rep was 275,” I pointed out. He gave me two thumbs up. “Piece o’ cake!” And that’s how it went. Each week for the next three months I had two 50-minute training sessions with Erik, I spent an hour or so each week lifting on my own, and then usually a couple of 25-minute cardio sessions followed by 15-20 minutes of arms. Every session, we talked. Man did we talk! Wasn’t like I wasn’t working. I worked my ass off. But between every set I was talking or he was talking… About Stephen and what he was like and what it was like to lose him. About Tiffany, his ex-fiancee, the woman he had lived with for three years and with whom he thought he was going to spend the rest of his life, right up to the minute she admitted she’d been fucking her boss for six months. We talked about the history of bodybuilding and the direction of the sport, including the addition of the 212 class, Men’s Physique, and Classic Physique. “Mass monsters,” I said. “Aesthetics,” he replied. “Roidguts,” I countered. “Vacuum poses,” he offered. He was upfront about the fact that he aspired to compete but wasn’t sure whether he would ever have the size to do more than Men’s Physique. “Classic physique, if I’m lucky.” I assured him that he certainly had the proportions to make Classic Physique -- or even open class bodybuilding -- happen, especially if he was willing to employ PEDs. And he was (and had but the imbroglio with Tiffany shot that first experience to hell.) “You know, when you really get right down to it,” I told him. “I have ZERO interest in ever competing. I just want to be a huge freaking muscle bear!” He laughed, then high-fived me. “We’ll make that happen,” he said. “You’ll be the studliest gay 50-something on the planet!” ZING! Along the way, I gained 10 lbs., all in the right places. Amazingly in the right places, in fact. Somehow I managed to put four inches on my chest and two inches on my arms, while taking four inches off my waist. With a 50-inch chest, 18-inch arms, and a 32-inch waist, I was better built than I had ever been in my life! Erik, meanwhile, dropped 10 lbs. without losing any muscle mass. It melted right of his mid-section. His waist was down to 29 inches and his abs were like river rocks. “You goddamned bastard!” I growled at him every time he lifted his tee-shirt to check his abs. He just grinned and did it again! And then, the day after my 50th birthday, I benched 315 for one solid rep. We borrowed Sam, one of the sales reps and an aspiring physique competitor, to shoot it with my phone so I could post it to Instagram. “Fuck yeah!” Sam said when I’d done it. Afterwards, Erik looked me up and down. “You’re twice my age,” he said. “But you’re stronger than I am. Most I’ve done so far was 300.” I shook my head. “You’re looking at it the wrong way, Mr. 29-inch Waist,” I said. “I just benched 15 lbs. more than you but I outweigh you by what, 50 lbs.?” He smirked. “Actually, I was 171 this morning,” he admitted. I rolled my eyes. “Youth,” I sighed. “Muscle maturity,” he countered. And then he surprised me. “Do you want to train together?” he asked. “I don’t have clients after you on Tuesdays and Thursdays so we could workout then. Or we could do early mornings before I open at Vitamin Valley [the supplement shop two doors down from Fitness World] on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.” It took me exactly 10 seconds to think it over: “Or we could do BOTH,” I replied. “And it would be so freaking cool! I’ve always wanted a lifting buddy! Of course, Stephen and I always worked out together but it just wasn’t the same since he was such a wee thing!” Erik laughed. “Well, compared to you, I’m a wee thing, too!” he pointed out. I snorted. “Pound for pound you’re one of the strongest guys I know and by the end of the year you’re going to be my size if I have anything to do with it!” His eyes got that gleam that comes on when you’re imagining a long-anticipated future. And I didn’t look but he later told me that telling him that caused him to chub up! “So it’s a deal?” he asked. I bumped his fist. “Deal!”
  5. RosieWorships

    Full Moon Rising

    *Hey guys! First story here, and I really hope you enjoy. Any feedback is welcome, good or bad! It helps me grow... as an author ❤Rose* *** His eyes remained closed, as his left hand slowly trailed down the stiff fabric of his baggy uniform. Though he was almost certain he was in danger, there was a strange sense of calmness that kept him lying still. Especially as his fingers curled around the badge over the right side of his breast pocket. Without even looking, he knew they had just skimmed over the engraved words, 'Chicago Police, To Serve and Protect'. Everything else seemed intact as he continued to feel along his waist and flat chest-- two arms, two legs, ten fingers, ten toes. It wasn't until Officer Dominic Hastings tried to lift his scrawny right arm, that his eyes suddenly shot open. "The fuck is this?" The man muttered in a panicked whisper. He frantically tugged at the metal restraint around his wrist, but it wouldn't budge. Not that he had really expected it to. Embarrassment blossomed on his cheeks at the realization that these were his own cuffs. How had he gotten here, he wondered. And who the hell had restrained him? An incredible sinking feeling popped into his head at the thought of his whole life being a waste. He was so puny, so weak and pathetic-- it was a wonder at times that he had even passed the academy. How could he ever be expected to be taken seriously as an authority figure, if he couldn’t even keep himself from getting kidnapped in the process. With a shout for help, Dominic cringed as the words, "officer down" flew past his lips. As he continued to scream for what felt like hours, the policeman couldn't help but regret all the times he had passed on offers from his brothers in blue to help him out at the gym. Dominic licked his lips, his throat tight from all the yelling. He opened his mouth to let out another scream when suddenly the door in front of him slammed open with a bang. He was terrified as the dark silhouette shifted in and out of the shadows. There was something almost inhuman about the way the figure moved-- almost like a predator stalking her prey. He shuddered involuntarily as she finally stepped forward into the moonlight. His memory was a little hazy, but he definitely remembered her glowing green eyes and sharp teeth sinking down into his flesh just before he blacked out. "I am truly sorry for that." She gestured with a nod as his free hand flew up to his neck. When he pulled it back, he was surprised to see a sticky copperish substance smeared across the tips. "I always thought I’d have more self control," the woman confessed. "But the moment I saw you, well--" Her voice was husky and oozing with desire as she trailed off before wetting her lips. As she looked up at him through those hooded eyes, Dominic couldn't peel his gaze away from her. She was tall and curvaceous, her stunning little hourglass figure calling to him in a bad way. With big tits and a rounded ass he couldn't recall a time when a woman had ever looked at him the way she was looking at him now. He wondered what it would feel like to run his hands along her soft curves. So caught up in his lustful thoughts, Dominic almost hadn’t noticed the intense burn coursing through his bloodstream. As she moved to sit next to him, he could almost swear that the room was starting to get warmer-- smaller. He watched her lips turn downward into a frown as perspiration broke out across his forehead and neck. "The fever is starting to set in already," she announced, giving him a look of concern before swiping at his brow. "I didn't mean to bite you so soon," she apologized again. "But now that I have, you're going to experience some changes." With a loud groan, Dominic rolled his head back and forth across his shoulders, trying to clear his thoughts. He wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but suddenly he found the fabric of his uniform annoyingly too tight. It must have been clinging to his body from all the sweat that was currently pouring off him. "You should let me go." His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Was that his voice, he thought. It sounded so deep. So-- animalistic. "I'm a cop," he continued, despite the dropping octave. "People are going to come looking for me," he insisted. "And when they do, they'll put you in cuffs." "Is that a promise?" She purred. As her hand brushed across the thickest part of his leg, he was almost positive he could see muscles beginning to ripple underneath his own skin. His body surged with excitement at a power he'd never felt before. He began panting slightly as she shifted closer, dark curls tumbling just past her shoulders. The luxerious locks were almost within reach of his free hand. If she just moved an inch or so closer, he could take her. Grasp that pretty little neck and bury his length deeper than ever before-- What the actual fuck was happening right now, he wondered. He need to somehow regain some control. "If you let me go, I promise I won't press charges," he growled. "You should know though, if my partner finds you first, he might try to haul that pretty little ass of yours off to jail." Dominic surprised himself with his own words. He would have never dreamed of talking to a woman like that before. Even more surprising though, were the changes he could feel taking place in his body. As he tensed his arm and tugged at the restraint again, he noticed this time how a massive bicep on his arm bulged out wildly into a ginormous ball of muscle. The vein running along the top as wide across as his finger, seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat distributing even more power. He couldn’t believe how huge his arms were! Swelling to the size of softballs and still GROWING bigger. Excitement shot through him as the navy fabric of his shirt suddenly split down the middle. Immediately he grew aroused by the monstrous peak of his own incredible arm. Shit. Even his peak had a fucking peak. "I have a feeling that in a few minutes jail will be the least of my concerns" the woman smirked. The growing policeman shook his head again as the woman shifted to her hands and knees. He swore her eyes were glowing as she slowly crawled towards him. Shallow breaths blew heavily out his mouth as his nostrils flared. It was almost painful how quickly his blood pulsed and rushed to his member. He had always dreamt of being huge, being so strong he could take and dominate this sexy, little thing. Then another thought suddenly occurred to his haze filled brain-- when had she become little compared to him? "Are you some kind of witch?" He practically bellowed as his shaft strained angrily against the zipper of his pants. It dawned on him now that his cock wasn’t the only thing threatening to shred through his pants. As they shortened considerably and drew up his now tree trunk sized legs, Dominic realized that at the same time his entire lower half seemed to stretch down the length of the bed. He had to be nearly six and a half feet. "Damn it woman, what kind of spell did you put on me?" he asked. With a laugh, the woman sat back on her haunches. "It’s not a spell," she giggled. "Though I guess you could consider it magic. What you're experiencing is your body preparing and transforming you into the perfect alpha mate." "Alpha? Mate?" He repeated the words as though trying them out for the first time on his own. It sounded right to him-- mate. This woman would now be his to claim. “This better not be like some sort of fucked-up Twilight shit," he growled. The beautiful brunette laughed again, but Dominic was no longer amused. As her incredibly delicious scent wrapped around him, Dominic suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to protect her-- to make her his and to fuck her gorgeous brains out all at once. The sound of his pulse thrummed in his ears, his entire body raging with fever. “Fuck,” he swore. It felt so good to be so fucking huge. With a snarl, he tugged at the restraint as his body exploded with power. The metal of the bedpost screeched in protest as it suddenly began to twist and bend. "You need to calm down." Dominic flinched as the female grabbed hold of his face. Her hands instantly created a calming effect on his burning flesh, but there was something else-- something primal starting to take up residence inside his brain. "If you don't stop, your transition could be more painful," she warned. With the sudden realization that the woman was straddled across his lap, Dominic fisted her hair with his left hand and tugged her chin up. He could feel a series of scars just underneath her hair line, but an explanation would have to wait. His lips greedily left a wet trail across her jaw and down to her throat. The more he touched, the more he wanted. Tossing his head back, Dominic let out a mighty roar, his voice dropping so low, so quick that he could see it visibly send shivers down his mate’s spine. He was growing so ripped, so fucking huge, he could practically feel his lats exploding out of his ever widening back. Underneath his shirt, he was sure six well defined bricks of solid flesh were pounding their way out of his once concave stomach. The woman gasped as she looked down, the ripping sound of his pants startling them both momentarily. Her hands tore at the remnants of his shirt, shoving the ribbons aside in order to expose more of his bulging chest. Each mound of striated hard muscle had to jut out at least four and a half inches from his monsterous chest. "Your wolf is going to be huge," she moaned, looking up at him through thick lashes. Dominic growled his approval as her hands slid down from his broadening shoulders over the hard planes of his pecs. She bit down on her full, bottom lip before rocking her hips back and forth on his lap-- searching for something-- anything that would create friction where she needed it most. Leaning forward, her teeth scraped against the side of Dominic's thick neck before nibbling on his ear. "Huge and all mine." Dominic liked the sound of that, and at the moment, the idea of becoming a werewolf was suddenly exciting. While most of the world was unaware of their existence, being a cop, he had seen too many things-- too many paranormal things to remain oblivious to the paranormal world. Strong fingers curled around her slender neck as he crushed his mouth to hers. His cock stiffened even more as his hand trailed down underneath her shirt, exploring her ample breasts. But he wanted more, if only he could just get free. He wondered if this was how a junkie felt. Always searching for the next high. This woman was like his own personal brand of drug and he just couldn't get enough. He wanted-- No. He needed more. With a thunderous cry, the handcuff easily tore like papier-mâché. The woman's eyes widened, the color quickly draining from her face. Clearly, she hadn't anticipated Dominic getting loose so early, but there was no need for her to worry. With his pupils fully blown, the thought of leaving this room was the furthest thing on his mind. Letting out a howl of pleasure, Dominic pushed his mate into the mattress before mounting her between his legs. With a fistful of fabric in each hand, the officer ripped her blouse open. He smirked as she gasped. Buttons popping and flying everywhere. He could see her nipples pebble underneath the black lace of her bra as her skin was exposed to the cool, night air. "I don't know if I can control myself," he looked down at her with concern before flexing his massive arms. The strength flowing through him was new and exhilarating if not a little overwhelming at the same time. As his hand trailed down over his chest he couldn’t help but feel so fucking big. "I don't want to hurt you.” Her eyes flashed green again before answering, her fingers scraping across his thick, hairy legs. "You won't," she promised. That was all the encouragement he'd need. As a mischievous glint sparkled in his sapphire blue eyes, his hand went to the middle of his back. With a grin, the now hulking officer pulled a spare pair of handcuffs from the back of his belt. Slowly he lifted one slender arm above her head before grabbing the other. "You have the right to remain silent," he said. "But I dare you to try." His hands roughly gripped his mate’s thighs before spreading her open to accommodate his wide frame. As he wrapped her long legs around his narrow waist, the woman gazed up at him. Biting down on her lower lip, her eyes roamed over him until they landed on the incredible bulge tenting his pants. “You know,” she smirked. “This really kind of gives a whole new meaning to the song ‘Fuck the Police’.”
  6. Author's Note: Here's a new story after a long time of not writing. I hope to contribute more soon, but check out my commentary below. Please let me know any feedback if you have it. It's always helpful and inspires me to keep writing. TF starts after the *** Becoming A God - A Fight for the Power I pulled my pads off my shoulders and let the sweat shake off my hair. Another solid practice with the football team. My buddy Nick gave my ass a quick slap as he pulled his own T-shirt off, revealing his cut upper body as we headed into the locker room. “What's up Trevor?” he asked, opening the door for me as I headed in with the rest of the team. “Not many games left man,” I said as we worked our way toward our lockers. We were juniors at the local College, a small public school and played D-III. Nothing big, but it was something to keep us athletic as we went through college. The school was old and the facilities felt like something out of the 70s, but it was ours and I was enjoying keeping up the sport even if we knew none of us were going to go pro. “Yeah dude,” Nick said. “Only one year left after this.” He quickly slipped out of his cleats and football pants, drying the sweat off of his legs and compression shorts. “You gonna hit the showers here or run to dinner?” “I going to head back,” I said, peeling off my own compression shorts and giving my crotch a quick dry. “I need to hit the dining hall before dinner closes, I'll shower later tonight. Hey you want to study for Econ later?” “Sure thing,” Trevor said, getting naked and throwing a towel over his shoulder. “I gotta shower now though. Let me know when you're done or whatever I'll meet you at the library.” “By the way,” Nick added, “What happened to Chris? Did he quit the team?” Chris was my roommate, the guy was always quiet, and not particularly nice, but recently he closed himself off. Hardly talked to me or anyone else. “He said he needed to focus on grades. Yeah, I think he quit. But all I ever see him doing is working out. I don't know.” I said. I threw on my boxers and gym shorts and started the walk back. The evening air was cool, fall was closing to winter fast this year. I had a quick dinner and I worked my way toward my dorm and up to my room. I figured I'd get a shower in before studying Econ. I was going to move in with my other football buddies next year, Chris was getting way too weird for me to be friends. I told him he was cutting himself out from the world, he needed to get out more and be social. But lately the guy was just scaring me. He either lifted or was reading old books about gods and the occult. I wondered whether he was reaching a breaking point. I walked into my room and saw Chris at his desk chair, lifting a dumbbell and only wearing compression shorts and gym shorts. “Hey Chris,” I said. “What do you want?” he asked. “You still playing sports? All they did was drag me down, they're going to drag you down, too.” “Dragging me down from what?” I asked. “I enjoy it man, it's fun. It'd be fun if you stayed too.” “I have bigger plans,” Chris said cryptically, a small smile forming around his lips but he kept pumping the iron without looking up at me. I wanted to ask him what he was talking about but I didn't. He was being way too weird and I was afraid of whatever answer he might give me. I threw my clothes off quickly and set them in the hamper. I grabbed my towel and turned back around as I wrapped it around my waist. Chris had set down the dumbbell and was looking at something in his desk. There was a faint light glowing out of his drawerit. I wondered what it was. He quickly shut the drawer. “I am meeting Nick to study Econ later tonight.” I said. “I'm gonna hop in the shower first,” “I'll be waiting for you,” Chris said, turning back to his desk. I couldn't hold back anymore. “What the hell, man?” I demanded. “What is up with you lately. You've been cryptic about everything, are you leaving school, what are you doing? What is going on?” Chris turned to me and with a controlled voice said, “you'll see soon enough, Trevor. You'll see. I have nearly everything I want, now. Nearly.” I grabbed my soap and left for the showers down the hall. I kept asking myself what was going on. The guy was getting weirder and weirder every day. I turned the shower on and unhooked my towel. I nearly wondered if I should even go back to my room. Would he still be there? Was whatever he was doing have to do with me? I looked down at my own body and was impressed with my build. My third year working hard with the team. “Not bad,” I said, flexing my six-pack and biceps. I finished the shower and toweled off, wrapping my towel back around me again. I kept telling myself to walk to Nick or Badger's room, ask them for a spare set of clothes. I should have avoided Chris. But I didn't, I kept walking back to my room, step by step. I opened the door, carefully. No one inside. “Okay,” I told myself with a relief. I shut the door and opened my underwear drawer. It was then that I heard the door open again, Chris forced himself in with a ton of energy. And rage. “It's time!” He shouted as he shut the door. “It's night! The sun is set. You are to be my sacrifice, Trevor!” He shouted again, raising his arms and revealing a green, glowing thing. It was shaped like an athletic cup. That must had been the thing in his desk. It shined a strange, green, electric light that flashed every few seconds. Chris was still in his gym shorts. I could see a bulge emerging from under it. Taking two steps toward me, he said, “This is the way it has to be!” He tried laying a massive punch to my gut but I was able to evade it, “WOAH!” I said, I had never been in a violent fight before. Not one like this, and not one against someone who I thought was my friend. “What the FUCK CHRIS?!?” I shouted. “Get the fuck away from me!” “NO! You don't understand,” the jock said, grabbing my shoulders and shoving me against the wall. “I have to do this. The god of Ahriman is calling me! I want his powers, and he requires a sacrifice!” It didn't matter how outlandish his words were, the jock was trying to plummet me. Hit me, ground me, whatever he could to keep me from scrambling away. I quickly shoved him back. I headed for the door but he grabbed me. Bear hugging me before pushing me to the ground. “Just stay still while I become him!!” He said. Chris kept me pinned with his left arm as he grabbed his shorts with his right and yanked them down. I could feel the jock's dick behind his compressions, not sure if he was hot for me or hot for the cup that was holding in his left arm. I didn't have time to think. I elbowed him and head-butted him on his nose “aww fuck!” he shouted as I made my way once more to the door. I couldn't reach the handle as I felt my body swing back toward his again. He knocked my ankles and caused me to fall to the ground. As I did, my towel finally unhooked itself. He gave me another shove causing my ass to hit the carpet as he hung onto the towel, throwing it behind him. “We both must be naked,” he said as I tried crawling my way toward the door. He grabbed me again and threw me away from the door. Standing again, I tried running toward the back window but Chris once again grabbed me. I was getting weak and tired. “He requires a sacrifice,” he said, standing behind me, pulling me against his body. Chris threw himself to the ground, pinning me underneath him. His dick once more was on my body, getting harder with excitement. I was able to flip him over and pin him down myself, now my own naked body over his. I lay two punches into him and kicked his back, attempting to get myself up but I was growing weak. Chris jostled with me, throwing me back to the ground. And stepping on my legs and he stood himself back up. He then stepped on my abdomen. With force, crunching my stomach and causing me to tense up. “OWW!” I shouted, crunching my abs to protect the stomach. He took his right arm and used it once more to undress, pushing down his compression shorts and revealing his naked self. The guy was a monster, no wonder he could overtake me. His shorts hit my abs. He put additional pressure down before removing his foot, leaving his shorts on my body. I quickly scooted back letting the shorts fall off of me. I couldn't get any further though. The naked jock picked me up and held me with both of his arms. I could feel the cup in his right hand, it was exuding with energy, giving me a feeling of confidence, and power. I liked it, but I was too preoccupied with the jock to do anything about it now. He wrestled me to the ground, throwing me down face first. My package hit the floor. “Ugh!” I shouted. The jock stood himself and rested his foot on my chest as I turned around. I was on the floor and the jock stood above me, just enough pressure to keep me from moving. “It's time, Trevor. I need you for this, know that your sacrifice will turn me into a god, and let me relive the glory of being the most envied athlete around!” He turned his attention to the cup as I struggled lifting his massive foot. “Oh great god of Ahriman,” he said, “I am your vessel, your human for you to bond with. I order you to give me your powers, use me as your host, and share with me in your immortality.” Chris started to chuckle as the lowered the thing toward his crotch. “Yes, I can feel them, I can feel the powers!” he shouted. I had to do something, the cup was starting to spark out with power. My left leg was free. I lifted my body and threw my knee into leg, then kicked his crotch as my foot flew back and hit the cup. “OW!” he shouted, grabbing his dick as the cup went flying out of his hands and toward me. Chris removed his foot and I started to get up but the cup hit my chest. I tried catching it but it slid down my pecs, abs and toward my dick, with every moment increasing the amount of energy and confidence. “Oh fuck!” I said in surprise, falling back to the ground and trying to catch it. *** But it was too late. The cup hit my dick and immediately suctioned onto it. Lifting itself over my dick and balls and turning immediately into a putty substance. “OH!” I shouted in surprise, the thing latching onto me and heating up fast, I could feel its energy quickly pulling itself into my dick, settling into my balls, and changing me from the inside out. Giving new energy and stamina like I had never before felt. I was terrified. What was this thing? “Get it off get it off!” I shouted, still on the ground I was no longer in fear of Chris, I just needed to get this putty mess off of me. Chris was thinking the same thing, but for entirely different reasons. “NOO!” He shouted in defeat, terrified now that the slave was quickly transforming into the master. I tried clawing at the hot pile of buddy over my crotch as is stretched and started swimming its way into my dick. As much as I tried the hot, powerful cup was latched firmly onto me, refusing to budge at all. Chris fell to his knees and smacked my hands off of the thing, clawing at it himself. “NOO!” he shouted again as he grasped and clawed at the cup now beginning to stretch its way over my pubes, around my thighs, and toward my butt. A new surge of energy came over me and I shoved the naked brute aside. “Woah” I told myself, I never knew that I had that amount of strength, it took almost no effort to get the jock away. But I hadn't time to think, the power that it was pulling into my balls was somehow transforming me, it was now pulling out of my balls and into my body. I started involuntarily convulsing, my muscles started spasming. “ARGH!” I shouted as My arms and legs twitched and spasmed, twisting me around to my stomach. I could feel the cup stretching onto the back of my ass. I could also, for the first time, “sense” Chris watching me, as if I knew what he was up to without even looking at him. He was watching as my ass exploded with muscle, locking in a hard bubble butt as the cup stretched itself over it, forming a green, electric-ridden loincloth of sorts. I stood up and noticed with surprise how much muscle I had gained. My six pack had turned to an eight pack and my adoinis started creating a sharp, well-defined V, much sharper than my roommate's. “Argh!” said again as I doubled over, feeling my pecs bounce and flatten out before becoming rock hard. My back started doing the same as my shoulders grew and beefed up muscle mass, stretching down to my arms and forearms. “What the fuck, Chris?” I shouted with rage. “What the fuck is this thing doing to me?!” I stepped toward the brute as my thighs exploded with muscle, causing me to lose my balance as I grabbed the jock, lifting him up with one arm and throwing him against the wall. “WHAT IS THIS THING??” I demanded. “No, wait, wait!” he said, turning from the aggressive asshole into the submissive beggar. “Let me go, let me go before its too late!” “Too late for what?” I shouted, a deeper, more controlled and confidence voice shouted from my throat. My waist rocked around in front of the naked jock; I looked down and I noticed my balls dropping, my dick plumping as the cup continued to fill me with muscle. With it came an incredible amount of confidence. “No,” I ordered. “I don't know what you thought you were doing, but you gone fucked up, little man,” I said, more calm and controlled than ever before. It was then, as my personality began to change, as my mortality, my humanity began to devolve from me, that I felt a new presence emerge within me. Then I understood: the god. The god of Ahriman. He was awakening inside my loins. “Yes,” I heard the voice say. “I am arisen once more.” “Yes,” I said in response, chuckling, “what I am to do?” “This human must be scarified, he thought he could take you, but you won, you are now my vessel. Let me become you. Let us merge by sacrificing this mortal.” The voice responded. I suddenly felt a wave of evil pass through my mind as my body once again tensed up and the muscle on me exploded. I tightened my body. “Oh FUCK YEA” I said, I could feel my body readying itself. It was time. “You're mine. Human.” I said as I started chuckling. I shoved Chris against the wall as the cup connected over my ass crack, completing its formation over its new host. Its new owner. A new loincloth formed over me just as Ahriman wore it. It immediately started crackling with bright, green electricity, emanating a bright, green, hot light from it. I pushed my loins against Chris'. The heat started to sear his body. “NOOO!” He shouted, fearful and out of control. “Oh yes,” I said, controlled and assured. “I can feel your muscle, your stamina, it's time for me to take you, human!” I felt like I was being controlled by another force but it was all I wanted, I wanted to take his body, to take his lifeforce, the twerp was a loser, a bully who thought he could take me and become the god. But I was the one chosen, I was the greater jock, the one who fought, the one who won. He was mine. My mouth watered for his, I wanted to taste him as he dissolved. I dug my mouth into his in a long, forceful kiss, breathing him in as the loincloth took his life away. I could feel his dick shrinking against mine as the beams of light wrapped around his loins and started feeding his muscle mass and stamina into me. It got more aggressive as the jock lost his muscle, the light emanating from my loins and over his body before pulling everything that made the jock the athlete what he was and into me. I let go of his lips and lifted my head in orgasmic pleasure. “YES!” I shouted as my voice lowered, becoming more masculine. More god-like. I could feel him growing smaller, and skinnier, ever smaller as the muscle drained from him. Then, he started cracking as his organs, bones and finally skin dissolved into the green light, wrapping into me as I took in his power. Now the green streaks of light were all over me. The loincloth, taking in the body of Chris, dissolved into a cloud of pure, unbridled power enveloping and transforming me into a muscle-ridden god. The god of Ahriman. “OH YES!” I shouted again, feeling my body open up and take in the powers. I realized I no longer cared about who I was, I was now everything I could have possibly imagined being. And more. I was a naked god, a being who could do anything and now was on a plane of existence where physics and biology and humanity no longer applied. I was a pure, unbridled god. And I was going to live like one. “ARRRGGHHH!” I shouted, flexing my naked, strong, cut body as the powers flung with sheer force back into me, leaving me in control of who I was and what I was to do. “OH FUCK YEAH!” I shouted. “This is it! This is what I'm talking about!” The powers seared into me, leaving me as a human vessel but containing the pure, unbridled powers of a god. My body had tanned, a thin line of brown hair rested on it before growing to a forest over my pubes and legs. My dick was the size of a bottle and my balls were hugely nestled behind it. “HAHA!” I shouted again, levitating myself, finally unbridled from the confines of humanity. My body was restless, it was begging for release, it wanted something, some satisfaction, the god of Ahriman was begging for it. “Man or woman?” I asked. “Both!” it demanded. I levitated and turned myself invisible, phasing through my dorm wall and into the main quad. I could feel other sports teams working their way into their locker rooms, no doubt to strip down. The tennis players were finishing their practice, they were about to hit the locker room. The toned boys felt promising. Then again, a group of girl swimmers were also getting out of the pool. And my old friend Nick, he was walking his way toward the library. But it was then I could hear my neighbor Badger walk out of his dorm. He was the only other guy on our floor at the moment, and no doubt heard the struggle and transformation nearby. “Trevor, hey dude, are you okay?” he asked knocking on my door. I floated back into my room and stayed invisible. Badger opened the door, it was empty, but there lay massive signs of a struggle. “What happened?” He whispered to himself. As he stepped in I flung the door shut with my mind and appeared before him in my form, the naked beast that I was. “AAHHH!” he shouted in fear, seeing someone flash into existence right before him, and someone as intimidating as massive as I had become. “Shh!” I said with confidence, “don't worry my friend,” I said, filling his mind with a hypnotic, dazed trance. “It is only Trevor,” “Trevor,” he whispered, somehow reasoning with himself that I was okay. Badger was a good man, a smart man, and a loyal friend. I had an itch in my crotch though and I could give him a piece of my powers, enslaving him to my will in the process. I asked myself if I should do it. “Why not!” I told myself. “Strip for me,” I ordered. And with it, Badger started taking off his clothes, ready to succumb to my will. Commentary: Feedback is always appreciated. I think I need to ask in a separate forum help writing different stories, and getting my stories posted here. All of my stories are nearly an identical "origin story." A man becomes a super-hero or a super-villain through some immortal artifact or though some science experiment gone wrong. My favorite kinds of story use muscle and "supernatural powers" as key parts of the transformation but I know that the whole "super power" thing is rare on this site. Probably most of the community thinks its kind of lame. I like writing these stories its probably my favorite fantasy, but of course I keep writing the same damn thing over and over. Any suggestions on this story? Others to write? Please let me know, it's always a huge help.
  7. This story was posted on the old MG between 2007 (when the original archive was created) and 2014 (when the old site went under.) I thought sure I had posted it here but apparently not! (If someone can find it, please let me know!) As is often the case with my old stories, I never finished this one -- but I'm planning to wrap it up in the next week or so! This time I will try posting it all in one thread beginning with Parts 1-5. -- RPJ By Richard Jasper Part 1 June 1 I can’t believe I persuaded Mom and Dad to let me spend the summer here at the lake house! It’s my favorite place on Earth but Dad and Pops get along like oil and water so we never stay more than a week, which well and truly sucks. And, no, I’ve never figured out what that’s all about, although I’m sure some of it is that Dad secretly feels he doesn’t measure up. Not that Pops has or ever would make an issue of it or even think it. Still, Dad is a healthy, handsome, athletic, 6’2, 200 lb. middle aged man and Pops is, well, let’s be clear about it – Pops is a giant! Yes, he’s 70 but he’s 6’6” tall and I’m sure he weighs more than 300 lbs., maybe a lot more than 300 lbs., and he’s solid as a rock. He’s also the sweetest, nicest, most unintimidating man I’ve ever met, which I largely attribute to Gram. She’s also 70 but I’m guessing a sexier septuagenarian has never lived and it’s clear she keeps Pops on an even keel. The house is so cool, a large living area, big kitchen, a library, four bedrooms, and a full basement with a full gym, sauna, steam-room etc. Maybe I’ll put on some muscle this summer! God knows I’m tired of feeling like a shrimp. At 5’11 and 160 lbs. I guess I’m decent enough for a just-turned-18 newly-minted high school graduate but compared to Dad, much less Pops, I’ve always felt like I was an insignificant bug! Later… Made it to the house in record time, even with a stop at McKinnon’s to pick up some vittles and sundries. The kitchen is fully stocked, of course, but with Pops and Gram in Japan this summer they made a point of telling me it would all be packaged or frozen. So I picked up a steak, a baking potato, and a pre-made salad and… OMG! Old Man McKinnon’s new store manager is such a total hunk! Steve, as I found out was his name by reading his name tag, is about the same height as Dad, around 6’2, but he’s easily 250 lbs. and all of it is solid muscle. Probably 5-6 years older than I am, blond, blue eyed, tanned, smooth, totally ripped. Whoosh! I can see I’ll need to be making regular visits even if the kitchen IS fully stocked! Speaking of the kitchen, Pops left a big jar of his own homemade vegemite right in the middle of the kitchen counter with a note on it: Here’s hoping you’ll have a great summer, Roger! Spend some time in the gym and, remember, Vegemite tastes good on anything – or nothing at all! Love ya, Pops I had to laugh. Vegemite was one of those things that Dad and Pops always fought over, Pops insisting it was good for what ails you, Dad maintaining it was mined from the bottom of a toxic waste dump. He refused to let me have even a single bite of it growing up, which, naturally, just increased my fascination but somehow I never managed, despite my sneaky kid ways, to get into it and Pops, despite all my pleading, insisted in adhering to Dad’s wishes. As for Mom and Gram, they always said, “Vegemite is for boys,” which I took for granted although looking back on it that strikes me as an odd thing for two hyper-feminists to say! Needless to say, I got out the whole wheat bread, opened the jar, and slathered some on. Jesus! It was like ambrosia! Like peanut-butter and jelly combined with the best steak you ever had and a bowl of chicken noodle soup! How could that be possible – and what was Dad thinking? I ate three and now I’m about to pass out! More tomorrow! +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ June 4 Hard to believe I could be so busy all by myself! But here it is three days later and I haven’t touched the keyboard ‘til now! Man, I’m totally loving it here. My routine thus far: I get up. I eat breakfast (a LOT of breakfast – Vegemite on scrambled eggs, mmm!) I go downstairs and lift. I have a mid-morning snack (Vegemite on English muffin, mmmm!) I take a nap. I get up. I eat lunch (Vegemite on pancakes, delish!) I lift. I eat. I go swimming. I eat. I lift again. I eat supper (Vegemite casserole!) I crash. Today I went to McKinnon’s to pick up some more supplies (and to check out Steve again!) “Hey, Steve,” I said, trying not to drool. He looked me up and down, sort of puzzled like. “Hey, uh… Roger, isn’t it?” I nodded and smiled. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” he said. “You must have been more dressed up the first time I saw you, I thought you were smaller.” I shook my head. “Same old me!” Well, at least he noticed! Back at the house I pulled out the bathroom scale. I mean, after all, I’ve been eating like there was no tomorrow. And Steve was mistaken. What I wore to McKinnon’s today is exactly what I wore on the first visit. So how could I have looked smaller? The scale said: 172 lbs.!!! I re-checked it three times, then and found the scale in Gram’s bathroom, which said the same thing. Twelve pounds in three days? Well, that’s interesting! +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ June 11 It’s been a helluva week! More of exactly the same, of course, namely eat lift eat nap eat swim eat lift eat crash! Amazingly enough, I seem to eat more every day. Breakfast has gone from 2-3 eggs and toast and Vegemite to 8 eggs and 6 pancakes and a pound of bacon and Vegemite. But I don’t seem to be getting fatter. In fact, my abs – my body’s one good point – are looking sharper all the time. Not sure how that could be but, hey, why would I complain, right? I guess it’s all going into my lifts, which get better every day. I know you’re not supposed to do a full body workout every day but that’s what I wind up doing, split into three sessions. Man, I really love working chest! It’s great Pops has a Smith machine because I’d feel uncomfortable benching without a spotter. As it is, I have a feeling of total self-confidence! And my lifts get better every day! The first day I could barely bench my own weight (160 lbs.) for one rep and three days later I was benching 200 lbs. for 10 reps, which was something like an extra 15 lbs. every day. And then this past week I really took off! Today I managed one rep with four 45-lb. plates on each side! You heard it, that’s 360 lbs. plus the 45 lb. bar so that’s officially 405 lbs.! I mean, I know, it’s a machine, right, so it’s not REALLY like I’m benching 400 lbs. but it still sounds cool! I paid another visit to McKinnon’s this afternoon and, well, that was kind of odd. Steve acted like he didn’t recognize me at all! I said “Hey, Steve” and he replied with “Hiya” and kinda looked at me like “Who the hell are you?” I asked him how his week had been and before I could say more he snapped his fingers and said: “Oh, I got it, you must be that Roger kid's big brother, right?” I laughed out loud! “Steve,” I said, “what’s the deal? I’m Roger – I don’t have a big brother. Or a little brother. Or a sister. I’m a singleton!” His mouth fell open. “What are they feeding you out there?” he blurted. I rolled my eyes. “It’s just me,” I said. “I’m feeding myself. Gram and Pops are in Japan and my parents are in Germany. I’ve got the summer to myself!” He shook himself and then rang up the bill. “Well, man,” he said. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up! It’s working!” I laughed and said I’d see him in a week. As soon as I got home and put the groceries away, I pulled out the scale again. 200 lbs.!!! Good God Almighty! How is that possible?
  8. JasonDarkfire

    Bracers Of Greed

    I've been spending a lot of time lately taking care of others, saying how I'm being such a good person by giving up so much. Well, I decided to make a story where the protagonist can be a little greedy... Another day, another time where somebody else besides me gets taken care of. A heavy sigh escaped me as I tossed my bag onto a nearby chair, having just returned home from yet another shift looking after my grandfather. It’s not like I don’t want to help, don’t me wrong. It just get frustrating when it seems like everyone and anyone wants me to take care of stuff for them at the expense of any kind of concern for my health and well-being. It’s bad enough when I have to do it at work; at least there, I’m getting paid to spend most of my time cleaning up my co-workers messes. Not nearly enough, of course, but I am paid. No, what’s worse is all the uncompensated work I have to do when I’m off the clock. Running chores for my mother/landlord, having my niece and nephew dumped on me by my brother, friends always expecting me to chip in equally for group purchases that I barely get to use; it sucks. It feels so often like all I do is give and give and give, and get nothing back in return. I’m not asking for a reward or compensation every time, but to never get it at all is quite annoying. Really, what probably bothers me about it more than anything else is that it’s rarely ASKED if I’d be willing to help/do someone a favor. It’s just assumed I’ll put up with it without question, even if it’s at the very last minute and interferes with my own plans. On the rare instance when I push back, I get crap and made to feel like I’m a monster for turning them down no matter how unreasonable the request is. It’s hard not to feel like an afterthought even when what I’m asked to do is important. Take last night’s request for example, the reason I was walking in the door so early in the morning. My grandfather, who I’ve always known as Pop, is over 90 years old now. My mother(his daughter) wants him to feel as independent as possible despite dealing with severe memory loss and early dementia. His wife passed away long ago before I was even born 26 years ago, and despite most of his other children living closer than us, they always have a reason that they can’t help with his needs or even keep him company. She does a bulk of my grandfather’s caretaking, but she also expects me to pick up shifts looking after him as well, often with barely a moment’s notice. I sorta can’t blame her, but I really can’t blame Pop despite him ultimately being the source of my frustration. It’s not like he asked for his current condition, and taking care of him isn’t really difficult either. All I really have to do is make sure he takes his medicine, make him some dinner and breakfast, and stay overnight in case of an emergency. Otherwise, all he wants to do is watch TV and tell stories of dubious levels of truth and ever changing details, something everyone’s owed in large part to his dementia. He did have a new story for me yesterday, though, and one that came with souvenirs. Shifting through my overnight bag, I pulled out the long wooden box Pop had given me. It was about a foot long on each side and a little more than that in depth. From one of the pockets of my bag I pulled out the small metal key that matched the lock on the front. Pop said it was something special, something I deserved. I wasn’t sure about that, but the whole exchange in which he gave me this box was just plain weird. “You’re a good looking guy, Xavier.” I never really thought of myself as that, being a bit over 200 pounds and not much of it being muscle. The fact that he was also bringing this up out of nowhere in the middle of the string of game shows we were watching on TV also caught me off guard. “And you’re a good person, taking care of an old man like me when you should be out there, living your life.” Lately Pop only responds when he’s spoken to, so him talking to me at all without prompting was weird enough. My blue eyes followed him when he rose out of his easy chair and wobbled over to a nearby brick wall and stared very intently at it, I was worried he was having a mental episode. He knew what he was doing as he pulled on one of the bricks, which slid out with ease. Reaching his hand in, he pulled out the box I was holding now and motioned for me to come over. He said it was an artifact he’d gotten when he went overseas during WWII(Mom said he never actually got deployed, so this claim seemed dubious at best), and was something he’d keep for safe keeping. “You’ve been giving a lot of yourself to others. I think you’ve earned the right to be a little greedy.” With that, he handed the odd box to me. The whole time he sounded oddly lucid, at least compared to how he’s been lately. Soon after the box was in my hands, he seemed to go back to normal(or his version of it), asking where the box he’d just given me came from. I figured it was best not to tell him that he was the one who’d handed it to me and guided him back to the chair before storing the box away in my bag. The story was weird, but the box did have something in it judging from the sound it made when I shook it gently. I had the place to myself for the moment, and Pop did specifically give it to me. If it was something valuable, I could always ask Mom what she thought we should do with it. Might as well see what this is, I thought as I stuck the key in the lock… …and my next conscious thought was noticing the golden, jewel adorned bracers around my forearms. “…Wait, what the hell?!” The box was on the floor, though I didn’t remember hearing it hitting against the hardwood as it feel. Nor did I remember taking out or putting on the strange things now on my arms, but there they were. And around the edges of my arm around them…are those burns?! And smoke coming up from under the bracers?! “What the hell?!” I repeated, looking over my arms. Both forearm bracers seemed to be made of solid gold, with a set of 4 large jewels spaced roughly an equal distance around each bracer. Each of the gems were roughly the size of a golf ball, the ones on my right arm a deep red color and the ones on the left were all deep blue. And the bracers seemed solid to a point that I had no idea how they got on or how to get them off. There seemed to be no seam or anything that I could use to open it, nor when they move when I tried to slide them off. It seemed like they had fused to my skin judging from the burns and smoke, but weirdly I felt no pain from them either. I supposed the nerves could’ve just been fried to the point that I couldn’t feel pain, but my hands and arms felt and moved normally, and I could feel the muscles of my forearms moving under the bracers without pain. So they were smoking, had apparently burned my skin, and yet I felt no pain…again; WHAT THE HELL?! Well, whatever was going on, I needed to get these stupid things off. No amount of physical force was making them move, so maybe there was another way? Maybe one of these jewels activated a mechanism that opened them, somehow. How about this one here on my right arm; this one jewel seems to be a little differently colored than the others… Uh-oh; that did something, though given how the bracers began to glow it wasn’t what I wanted to happen. Soon the glow started to turn into an intense heat, the smoke coming off the bracers starting to grow thicker as well. The heat surged downwards into my hands, and though still not necessarily painful it definitely didn’t feel good either as they started to go from normal pink skin to boiled lobster red in a matter of seconds while swelling like an overcooked hotdog. Just as they felt like they were about to explode… well, they kind of did, but not in the way I expected. I could only stare in numb shock as thick brown hair suddenly burst through my skin, covering both of my hands instantly in a thick coat of brown fur. My fingernails were lost under the new fur coat, replaced with the end of each finger becoming hard, flat and coarse. My hands looked almost hoof like, though despite their increased size and thickness I hadn’t lost any kind of dexterity. It looked like I was wearing the gloves from a sports mascot. The thought, “Is it over?” had barely crossed my mind before I realized that it was nowhere near over as the heat started working its way up my arms. The same reddening and heating up feeling that had gone through my hands was being matched on my arms. It wasn’t content to stop when it reached my shoulders, spreading to my chest and core quickly thereafter. The heat was becoming unbearable as I tried to make it to the nearby couch before my legs gave out, only able to get behind the couch and grip the back of it before I felt too dizzy to move. I heard the wooden frame of the couch creaking as I gripped it in my hoof-hands, growing louder as my forearms starting to swell. The bracers seemed to enlarge and swell along with them, remaining about the only part of my body that wasn’t feeling like it was submerged in boiling water. I assumed the bulging veins along my arms were what was making it look larger, but no, my arms weren’t just growing in proportion to my hands. There was a noticeable increase in their definition and thickness, and that was before the explosion of fur and size hit them like they did my hands. When they did… CRUNCH! That was the sound of the couch frame crumbling to splinters in my hands, sending me crashing into the back of the couch as my arms suddenly surged with muscle. Even the new fur coat that stopped just below my shoulder did little to downplay the size of my biceps, the bulge seeming as big as my head as I flexed. My triceps looked equally powerful, and somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered how ridiculous I must look with the massive furry arms on my human body as I struggled back to my feet. Even aware of my strength, the unbroken parts of the couch I gripped when I tried to get back to my feet felt like they would snap with just a little more effort. “AH!” A sudden spasm down my spine made me arch my back, almost breaking the couch again at the shock. The feeling almost, but not entirely drew my attention away from the bubbling sensation that was building along my upper and back and shoulders. The sweat pouring off my body made my t-shirt cling tightly to me, though my shirt was the least of my concerns now. My heart was pounding in my chest in a way I never felt before, each beat pounding in my ears. What happened next occurred in a few seconds, but in my mind it felt like it had taken an eternity. The first was the, “SHRRIP!” sound of my t-shirt splitting down my back as my shoulders and upper back exploded with size, my neck feeling like it was trapped between a pair of fur covered boulders. The second was the, “SHRRIP!” of the couch being torn in half as my newly expanded back forced my arms and hence my grip further apart, holding a half of the broken couch in each hand. The next was the, “BOOM!” of what felt like a bomb going off in my chest, drowning out the sound of the couch remains getting tossed aside as more changes occurred. I couldn’t tell if the noticeable flabs of fat on my chest disappeared or simply blended in so deeply with my filling pecs that it looks that way as my chest pushed forward. As fast as my chest was bulking up, my gut was slimming down and tightening as the heat seemed to boil away all the fat around my belly and sides. Soon the size of my pecs and the thick mat of fur made it impossible to see my abdominal development, though I could still feel the solidness and firmness I’d never known before in them as they flexed. If I had any means of conscious thought I might have been ecstatic with them, though nothing compared to the feeling as the heat reached my groin. The changes hadn’t been painful, but they hadn’t exactly felt good either until the heat started to permeate my cock. As soon as the heat touched it I was hard, the jolt of pleasure combined with my heavy upper body and normal human legs finally causing my knees to give out and send me crashing toward the floor. I couldn’t tell if it was just my hardening cock that was making the seat of my pants feel tight, but in the time from when my butt flexed as it started to head toward the ground and the moment it made contact with the ground, my jeans had split at the seat and my fully exposed ass was hitting the floor. The firmness made me bounce up a little at first, and in the milliseconds between bounces my butt was cushioned by fur on the second hit My cock surged again, and it might have been painful if my quads hadn’t quadrupled in size to split the denim even more to relieve the growing stress on my cock. O.K; quadrupled may have been a bit of an overstatement, but my thighs were two thick pillars of corded muscle that were now rubbing up against each other. The changes continued further down my legs as my calves were starting to feel closer to cows, though I barely noticed. My attention was instead fully locked on what had happened to my groin. What had happened was surprisingly little; yes, I was hard as hell, but other than that my cock and balls had escaped the changes that had hit the rest of my body save for my head. It was almost disappointing that my normal 6 or so inches was still just so, and I felt like I could go off at any moment. When I prodded it with one of my hoof hands, the familiar feelings of an approaching orgasm started to rush through me. My butt clenched as the orgasm hit… and then things got weird(Well, weirdER). My cock started to throb and pulse like normal, but instead of my seed shooting out of my dick, my cock just… grew. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me for the first few pulses, but by the forth my cock was noticeably bigger. My nuts also started to feel heavier as they rested against my thighs, but no cum seemed to be coming. Soon my cock seemed to be pushing double digits while being about as thick round as a bratwurst. For the first time in a while, a conscious thought passed through my mind. It wasn’t why this was happening, or how I could stop this strange transformation. It was just one simple word that went through my mind as I wrapped my hands around my member. More. “More.” I gave voice to my desires as I started to pump my dick, the rough hoof structure of my hands feeling weird but not unpleasant as I stroked. I pulled my cock against my body, feeling the head rubbing between the ridges of my 8-pack under the fur as it continued to creep its way up. A piece of my shoe flew past my face as my feet changed, though I didn’t see nor care what was happening there. My cock was the only thing that mattered now. “More!” My cock started to reach the bottom of my pecs, my hands slowly being prevented from fully encircling my cock as it continued to grow wider and longer. I could feel the bubbling feeling of transformation at the base of my neck, but it wasn’t my cock, so it wasn’t important in the slightest. I had to use both hands together on the same spot to continuing beating myself off, my legs kicking and squirming as my nuts continued to grow. It felt like a pair of oranges were stuffed in there, and yet I still didn’t feel like I was done. “MORE!” My voice sounded deeper that time, most likely owing to whatever was happening to my face. Another mini-explosion hit at the base of my neck, the fur seemed to grow up from my thickening neck in an instant as I went from clean shaven to full beard and mustache to coat of fur in seconds. Even my mouth and nose started to push out from my face, soon giving me a short furry muzzle. I should’ve thought it was awful that I was definitely no longer human, but the extra length of my mouth meant I could get the head of my cock into my mouth now, so it was the greatest thing in the world. “MPPH!” My muffled demand for more was not met this time, though perhaps that was for the best as my cockhead filled my muzzle. Even with the increased width and length of my mouth I could barely fit it in my mouth, the flesh so thick I had to use my teeth to even make a dent in the thick column of flesh. I still continued anyway to stroke the underside of my cock with one of my hands while the other slid down to my balls. Each of them were about a big as a softball and covered in the same fur as the rest of me. I was a virgin, inexperienced with either sex. Still, I was pretty sure men’s semen didn’t take like… well, the closest I could imagine to was thick, gooey honey that started to finally form at the tip of my cock. Neither was it supposed to be so hot that I probably should’ve been worried about burning myself as I eagerly lapped up the ambrosia. The heat continued to persist as it slid down my throat, down into the pit of my stomach, and fuck, did I need more. The more I drank, the more my cock seemed willing to provide. This was so, so wrong. I was some massive, muscular bull thing, who was becoming more bullish by the second if the strange itching sensation emerging from either side of my head. I was growing pointed horns that continued to push out from my skull with every passing second. My normally short and neatly trimmed hair was becoming a wild, thick mane that was flowing down my back. And somehow without even being able to see them, I knew my eyes were now a deep blood red, wiping away pretty much any trace of the human I once was. This was on top of the small puffs of smoke coming out of mouth from either my strange seed or something else. This was so, so wrong, and I was loving every bit of it. I was a monster, with a monster’s strength and size. I felt like my muscles could bend steel and break blades if someone were to strike me, and that was if said blade could even make it through the thick coat of fur. I felt so masculine, so powerful, so fucking STRONG! And not to mention my massive cock; how could THAT be really be so wrong? “FFFFUUCCCK!!” A sudden swelling of my cock forced my member out of my mouth lest I choke on it, letting my three foot length that was about as big around as a 2-liter soda bottle jut straight into the air. My hips bucked as my cockhead swelled again, slamming my fists into the ground and splintering the wood underneath them. The massive balls that were now my testicles clenched, the veins of my cock throbbing angrily and visibly underneath. And finally, I came. The windows rattled with the roar I let out as my cock exploded, seed shooting like a geyser from my monstrous member. The living room ceiling of the condo had to be at least 12 feet or more from the floor, and the first burst of my seed nearly hit the ceiling. The second one did reach as gravity took hold of the first burst, making it drop back on me and the surrounding floor. The seed felt warm as it covered my fur, small wisps of steam coming from the puddles that were forming around me. Thirty seconds in, and it showed no signs of slowing down. The seed covering my fur made my muscles seem even larger, and I couldn’t help but rub and squeeze my muscles as my cock continued to spew. As I flexed my left arm and licked my bulging bicep, I noticed in the corner of my eye one of the blue gems on that bracer were glowing softly. Something had changed, though what had made it happen or what it meant I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of really anything at this point, except for one thing as I looked at my still spewing cock and bought my hands to it again. “More…”
  9. MuscledJunk

    The Police Brute - Episodes I - III

    Disclaimers: It’s my first story so criticism is welcome While there is not much of it in this episode, there will be A LOT of violence in future installments. You have been warned. The Police Brute – Episode I Life is meant celebrated, to be enjoyed, to be lived. It is the constant pursuit of happiness, the search for a greater purpose, which keeps us going everyday. But what if you don’t believe there is any greater purpose for you, if you don’t think there is any happiness to be found in your life? Then you end up like me. A short, single and skinny gay police man with no friends, who spends his free time thinking about ways of killing himself. I wasn’t always like this. My life used be close to perfect, until I turned 14. That is when I realized I was gay. From there on it was all downhill. First my parents disowned me and kicked me out of the house, when I came out to them on my 17th birthday. After taking one glance at my parents, everyone could have guessed that this ultra-conservative couple would not tolerate a gay son, but I foolishly thought that they would change their views for me, their only son. Being young, dumb and broke I did what I could to survive, even if it meant doing the unspeakable. It started as a job on the side, once every two weeks, but it quickly turned into a daily affair and I have to tell you, being a young gay prostitute was not easy. I got mistreated, abused or just flat out robbed. When I turned 21, I decided it had been enough. The almost four years of hard, dirty work were finally over. I took all the money I had saved during that time and started college. College was another beast which I had to tame, but after what I had endured it seemed like a walk in park. Still I had problems connecting with people, especially men. Sadly college was over before I could learn how to get over my anxiety. Next up was the police academy. The experiences I had made on the street, had made me want to fight the grave injustices of this world. That was another foolish idea of mine. After 20 weeks I finally got my dream job and it was the shittiest thing in the world. I got overworked, underpaid and after some time I even forgot my original goal. That brings me to a day, that started like any other. I got to the station and waited for my partner, so we could start our patrol. He was late so I slowly got bored and started thinking of ways to end my miserable life. In the end I came to the conclusion that I would chicken out of it like usual. After what felt like an eternity, my boss, Alex came over to me and I thought he was going to tell me my partner called in sick or something, but he just stood there for a few moments until he finally muttered:” Pete...he-he got into a car accident last night. He didn’t make it.” I knew I was supposed feel sad or something, but truth is I didn’t really care for him that much. Alex let me go home to mourn for the weekend. Instead of mourning I watched old comedies on Netflix. When I walked into the station on Monday, I unknowingly began a new life. The first sign came when Lenny, our secretary handed me an XXXL uniform. “Um, I didn’t ask for a new uniform. Besides this one is kind of oversized,” I told him, as I tried to hand back the uniform. “The uniform isn’t for you. It’s for your new partner,” he replied. “Not to fat shame, but don’t people need to meet certain health standards to work here?” I asked. “You’re gonna be surprised,” he smirked. “Your new partner is waiting for you in your office, but first Alex wants to see you. In his office” That was the second odd thing that happened, because Alex barley ever let people into his office. A working theory was that he was secretly a cam-guy, but I believed he was just hiding the fact that he doesn’t do any actual work around here. Turns out I was right. But after arriving in his office I was too preoccupied by other things to realize that. Alex was sitting at his desk, his face plain as if he’d just seen a ghost. Or to be more precise, he was sitting in front of what used to be his desk. Now it was split in half, with dents all over it, looking like someone had broken it in half using their bare hands. I took a seat and instantly felt that something heavy had sat in the chair before me. “John I know these past few days have been hard for you with the passing of Pete, but we have already found a replacement,” he whispered, visibly shaken. “Good,” I replied. “Is there anything wrong?” “Your new partner is...intimidating,” Alex muttered. “He insisted on getting you as a partner, because of a...em...special quality of yours.” With those words he escorted me out of the room without saying anything more. Now I was confused. I approached my office with caution, breathing heavily, scared of what awaited me. Once I arrived at the door, I pulled down the handle and slowly started to push it open. Suddenly a deep, masculine and sensual voice came from inside the office. “You don’t have to be scared. I don’t bite,” he shouted. I stepped inside, only to witness a behemoth of a man who was stripped down to his underwear sitting on my chair. He stood up, so that I could see him in his full glory. The 260lbs man had a face that would give most models a run for their money. Lush black hair, sparkling blue eyes, beautiful lips, a sexy five o’clock and the most gorgeous jaw in the history of man kind. It only got better from there. His neck was as thick as some peoples thighs, with veins snaking over his boulder like shoulders, to his biceps. But calling them biceps was gravely downplaying their monstrosity. They were at least 23 inches with peaks worthy of the Mr. Olympia Stage. I was already drooling before I had even seen the best part. His chest was made of two globes, throbbing at every breath, threatening to explode out of their own skin. Hiding underneath the two balloons were eight stone hard bricks. You would think a man this big would have a huge gut, but no. He was ripped to the shreds with veins protruding out of his abs. Then I looked below his waist, a waist that was no wider than my own, and dropped the oversized uniform I was holding in my hands. Between his two mighty legs, which were almost as thick as my body, was an unbelievably huge bulge, almost visible through the giants thinly stretched underwear. He walked up to me, until I was in arms reach of his body. He lifted his left bicep and flexed it, at which point I let out a slight scream. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a faggot,” he said, as a devilish smile crept over his face.
  10. Ryogatsu

    Muscle Pills

    Muscle pills by Ryougatsu Part 1: "You're sure this stuff will work?" I looked at the small pill before my eyes, shifting it to see the magic hidden behind the surface. But there was no magic. Just an ordinary white pill someone would take when he had a headache. "You dont believe, do you?" Mike crossed his arms in front of his chest. We'd first met when i'd started training at this new gym across the park. I'd somehow decided it was a good idea to sign in for a membership and get in shape for summer... you know the time when everyone wants to go to the beaches, impressing hot girls with their abs and biceps. Well ... i didn't wanna impress any girls. I didn't swing that way. I wanted guys, hot dudes with well defined abs, a wide chest and a strong back. Mike must have sensed something because on my first day at the gym he straight aimed for my place. I was just trying my first set bench pressing, struggling a little bit with the weight, when suddenly this shadow lurked over me. First i wanted to grunt some curse but when i looked at that sweaty chest, heaving under his breath, i couldn't do anything but gasp. Mike had just finished his chest-day and was offering me some help. Obviously he noticed me struggling. He was a nice guy which i didn't expect cause usually all the buff dudes were full of themselves. Somehow i agreed. It must have been this damn smile of his. That day we did the full program. He had taught me the most importing exercises, including bench press, barbell row, deadlift and squads and how to perform them well without hurting myself. After that we went over nutrition and the goes and no-goes of every workout-routine. All the fun we had together was forgotten when i'd awoken the next day. Curse this pain. Muscle soreness was my nemesis from this day on but it in the end it was worth all the hard work and dedication. Over five months I'd managed to build a solid athletic look. I had abs, still layered with some fat but i could definitely see them pushing through my shirt. The same applied to my chest and arms. Flexing them felt so good and thanks to my broader back and shoulders i looked bigger too. Still... i was nothing compared to Mike. This guy somehow managed to put on 20 Kg of pure muscles in the same amount of time. When i finally gathered all the courage i could muster inside of me to ask him if he were juicing, he just broke out in laughter. "I'm not juicing, idiot!", he had said. "Well... if you really wanna know my secret i can show you next Friday." And he did. "Why should i believe you? Like swallowing a pill not bigger than my fingertips and growing to Mr. Universe proportions sounds reasonable to you." I was right about to refuse his offer when he lifted his shirt, revealing a solid brick wall of abs. "Go ahead", he said flexing them , "Touch them and tell me that it doesn't feel real." I gulped. Damn they did look big and full... i wanted to feel them so bad... but no! I wouldn't let him have his fun with me. "Just hide them already." I tried to hide my face but from his next action i could tell that he still saw through me. Suddenly he pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him bare chested in front of me. This time i couldn't avert my eyes. I just stared at him, his powerful muscles, his heaving chest eagerly waiting for my fingers running over it, feeling the muscles beneath. "I know you want this, Aaron", Mike said. He flexed his pecs, making them almost double in size. I realized my fingers running over his chest and slowly moving down until i could actually feel his abs. Damn... when did it happen? When did i move towards him? "The pill did this to me." Mike was totally enjoying this. I could tell by his smirking expression. Fucking idiot. "The pill can do the same to you", he said and pointed towards my own chest. "Just take one every week. You don't even need to work out more or anything at all. The pills will do everything." With that he handed me a small bottle full of white pills and a little piece of paper. "Just make sure to not violate the instructions. Don't want any negative side effects, do we?" He winked, grabbed his shirt of the ground and threw it over his shoulder. "You know that i still don't believe you, right?" I tried to think about something nasty like an old duded body to keep myself and most certainly my little member from escalating. Just put your shirt back on already! Mike turned around, showing me his back which, under the influence of sunlight, looked super buffed. "Told ya already. Take the pill and see for yourself. See ya at gym." This fucking jerk flexed one last time before he ran down the walkway and disappeared into the park. After my meet and greet with Mr. Muscle i decided to make myself comfortable in the living room. My parents weren't at home. My mother was visiting some old school and friends and wouldn't be around until 2 a.m. i guessed and my father was working out of town this weekend. We had this super big TV in the living room on which i wasn't allowed to to use my console. I did it nevertheless cause damn, you haven't played a PS4-Game right when you've only played it on a pathetic PC-screen. I plugged in the console and started the game. I've chosen "The Last of us" cause i wanted to prepare myself for the second part. I sucked at the missions where you had to sneak around and slowly murder every infected without alerting anyone around. Everyone could tell i was the type of guy who preferred the more action-driven missions. Unfortunately i had to sneak into a building know. Not ten minutes into the game i could caught and died a pathetic death. God dammit! Keep yourself together, Aaron! You can do it! I noticed the pills which i had put on the glass table my mother was so proud about. Pff... He's juicing for sure. Bet his balls are already shrinking. Dumb idiot. After five more failed attempts from which one was especially not my fault (the game bugged), i decided to put away the controller for some time. Instead i reached for the little note that Mike had given me. I still didn't believe in his story but better learn something about those fake-pills instead of dying to some infected. Unfortunately the note didn't say much at all. There were some warnings about not taking the pills when underage cause your hormonal balance couldn't handle it. Glad i turned 18 last month. Other warnings included a stronger libido, additional gain in height, addiction and something about pregnant or ill persons not allowed to take the pills. After that the note showed a table hinting about the dose. According to it you should take only one pill per week and not stress your body with excessive sport. Sounds reasonable enough. Too bad, it's just a fake. Wouldn't even surprise me if there was nothing but peppermints in the bottle. I thought about taking one just before the door rang. Huh? Who could it be? Mom? No way. Once Mom meets some friends no one can tell whether she even will return. A Visitor then? Curious i rumpled the note and slid it down my pants pocket. "Who's there?", i asked, trying to peak through the door hole. I saw nothing but short blond hair. "It's me!", a voice came from outside. "Fynn! Don't say you forgot my exam." Fynn! I suddenly remembered. I promised to help him with math cause of the exam he had the following Monday. Nothing against a change of pace. "Nah", i replied. "I didn't forget." I opened the door and entering was Fynn, happy and smiling wide as always. "Hah! You totally forgot! But that's fine! The math exam is next week. I lied too." He grinned and gave me a light tap on my shoulder. "But i know you don't mind me intruding. Your parents aren't home?" "Nope", i yawned flexing my arms a little. "Damn! Look at those arms!" Fynn had this special talent always looking at me when i was changing clothes, flexing unconsciousness or adjusting myself down there. I knew he appreciated my newly build body. He always did. Back then when we had our first tutoring lesson, when I'd decided to work out, when we'd went to the outdoor pool and just now when i'd lifted my arms slightly for a yawn. Fynn was 2 years younger than me what made him 16 years old. He had this short blond hair which i had him encouraged to cut because it was a shame to hide those beautiful blue eyes like an ocean every sailor would get lost in. His physique was rather slender. Where i was 1.85m in height, he was only 1.67m. So he always was looking right at my shoulders which he didn't mind. One time he wanted to compared our two bodies, a damn excuse to see me in my underwear, but i agreed. Just couldn't resist this cute innocent smile. At the beginning we both flexed. He had no visible muscles, neither defined abs. Just a smooth flat chest and belly. After a while he just made me copy some poses he saw on a flexing video online. I knew he admired my muscles and that he loved guys like i did (after all he told me right away) but i didn't mind. "You know you could just accompany me to the gym, right?" I gave him a critical look because he was just about to ask me for another flex. Fynn crossed his arms behind his head which made his black shirt rise over his belly button. "I coooould", he said unimpressed. "But with you right next to me I'd just couldn't focus. I'd rather hurt myself while watching your workout than growing some muscles." "Please someone, explain this boy to me." I sighted. "I'm gonna take a shower." Fynn's eyes lightened. "Need some help?" Suddenly he was holding a towel. "I could dry you." The thought of it certainly was intriguing and i caught myself blushing. "No way!", i replied. "Just make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back." Something inside of Fynn might have died this moment but nevertheless he agreed, leaped over the couch, grabbed the controller and started where i had stopped. "Good luck with that", i smiled before i turned around and disappeared into the bathroom. The shower sure did wonders. Not only did it help me getting clean, it also made me forget the pictured of Fynn rubbing my body with that towel, gaping whenever i would flex a muscle. When I'd finally left the bathroom and entered the living room i couldn't believe my eyes. There was Fynn playing the next mission on "The Last of us". That lucker did manage what was impossible for me! I totally had him to replay the level for me so i could learn from him. I sat next to him and slapped his back. "Good work!", i praised. "Couldn't do it for hours." "That level?", he said, munching something. "Piece of cake." He gave me a quick look and took another peppermint out of the bottle. Wait a minute? Peppermint? Suddenly it hit me. "Don't eat that!", i shouted, taking the pill away from Fynn. "Why?", he asked, burping. "They taste fucking good. Like dextrose or something." After seeing my shocked expression he shrugged. "Should i have asked? My bad." He grinned and swallowed another one. "Stop that", I persisted. Quickly i took away the bottle, only realizing it was half empty. "Dammit, Fynn! How many did you eat?" Fynn looked at me like he didn't know what was happening. "Just fifteen or twenty... i don't know. Damn? Why are you getting so upset about it?" I stood up and hid them in the drawer next to me. "You should just..." I paused for a second. This stuff was still fake... why was i getting so upset? "Just don't eat them." "You are right. I'm sorry." Fynn stood up, looking at my chin. My chin? Wait! "Woah! Fynn weren't you only 1.67m?" I gulped. They are fake... right? Fynn gave me another weird look. "Of course I am! Why are..." Suddenly i heard a faint rumbling. It came from Fynns belly which was showing a little under his shirt. "Guess you were right", he grunted. "Shouldn't have eaten those mints." His eyes went wide. He must have realized it too cause i saw it right in front of me. Fynn, the little neighbor boy was growing until he looked right at my nose. His shirt now revealed his little belly button and more. I could actually see the faint outlines of abs like he had just started working out. "Did you see that?", he asked me eagerly. "Damn! That weren't mints, were they?" I nodded silently. The pills... weren't they supposed to be fake? His shocked expression shifted to a wide smile. "Guess i grew a little." He flexed his right arm only to see a little peak. Nothing notable but enough for him to feel amazed. "Aaron...", he said, with awe to his new body. "I can still feel it. And it's building up." I gulped. Again i could hear that faint rumbling instead it wasn't faint right now. I could actually hear it and see his body shift beneath his shirt. First i saw it in his arms. Slowly they started filling up with muscles, gaining in size until they were as big as golfballs. "You see that?" Fynn flexed his arms, making the first fibers rip apart. "This feels fucking fantastic." They continued to swell until they were the size of tennisballs, nearly as big as mine. My focus was suddenly drifted towards his center as i saw his shirt ballooning outwards. "Feels so good", he said, closing his eyes. I could tell by his expression that he enjoyed it with every part of his body. I would have risked a quick look down there but i was too distracted by his growing pecs. They continued to push outward until first rips started to form. Damn Fynn was already looking down at me. In just one minuted he had gained another 10 or 15cm in height. "It's getting tight in here", Fynn said pointing at his shirt. "Want to rip opening my shirt?", he asked. "How about it? Go ahead or my pecs will do the work." It was no question nor an invitation. He leaped forward, grabbing my hands and placing them on his chest. I went instantly from soft to full-mast. Feeling his pecs fill out this shirt, seeing skin showing through ripped fibers, i couldn't hold myself back anymore. I kept hold of his shirt and ripped it apart only to reveal huge muscled pecs, now the size of two footballs. Beneath his chest was a solidified brick-wall of abs, still pushing outwards, inviting me to touch them. Fynn had to notice my thirst for his muscles because he pulled me towards himself and forced my hand over his abs before he gave them a flex. Gasp... i felt my dick twitching. He didn't even have to force me anymore. I started to rub my hands over his torso alone, feeling every rill, every muscle fiber beneath his hot and sweating skin. Suddenly i could feel another rumbling, shaking Fynns whole body. He moaned in ecstasy, when i noticed his legs pushing his shorts to the limits. In the past his meager legs used to be thin and weak but now they had the strength of a horse, nearly as big as my torso. "It feels... so good..." Fynn certainly was enjoying this. He looked down at me, waaay down at me. He must have been around 2.5m right now. And with the size of his shoulders... damn the size of his shoulders was gigantic, like two cannonballs, slowly growing towards both walls of the room. Again Fynn noticed myself looking and grinned. "You should see yourself right now", he said, panting. "You are like me back then, eagerly waiting to touch this bod. Well how about this?" Fynn turned around. For a brink of a second i could see his triceps, now bigger like both my legs tide together, making his arms almost as big as the couch. He then prepared a lat-spread which made him double in width. I moaned, grabbing my own dick. His back was only muscles now and he still wasn't slowing down. "Someone needs help down there?" Without me agreeing, Fynn took hold of my waste band and ripped it apart, revealing myself in tight trunks which didn't hide anything. My 18cm dick was fully erected and i was eager to rub it. Fynn did the job for me. "You know, i always wanted to suck your dick", he said stroking it outside the fiber with one finger. I realized that one of his fingers was already as thick as my dick. I moaned as he grapped my dick gave it a small flex. "I have a better idea", he smirked. I couldn't tell, what he meant, until he flexed his mountainous legs to shred his once loosen shorts. What i spotted hidden behind it was fully erected 26cm dick, working his way up his belly button and pointing towards his solid 8-pack. Damn... i wanted his body... this globe-like pecs, this monstrous shoulders, this trunk-like arms, this wall of abs i was right looking at, this enormous legs and I wanted his still growing dick... This damn monster-boy was reading my mind again. Right after i finished my thought he freed his giant dick from his pathetic trunks and pushed myself closer to him. Soon i found myself wrapping my hand over his cockhead which had the size of my fist. I saw heard him moaning and gasping as i took another hand to support his heavy shaft. He then did something i did not account for. "Don't stop", he moaned as he reached over my head, broke the drawer and lifted the bottle of pills towards his mouth. I thought about stopping him, this gigantic beast. Really! But in the end i just watched as he emptied the bottle and swallowed all the pills. The effect didn't take long to trigger. No, i didn't see or hear it. I just felt it between both of my hands. As Fynn was growling like a beast i could feel his dick widen and lengthen. It grew until it had the size of one of my legs. I felt myself getting weak by the sheer view of his dick growing over my head, knocking me almost over. I heard the ceiling creak and knew Fynn was now as tall as the room. I didn't mind. I was too focused on his dick, stroking it with both my hands like fighting a giant snake only not to kill it but to pleasure this 16 years old giant. "Aaron...", Fynn moaned as he lied down crushing the couch and TV beneath him. His body filled the whole living room. Suddenly Fynn lifted me up the ground, placing me on his popping abs. I had to stand and two of them. That's how big and muscular they where. With a peak behind my shoulder i saw Fynns wanting face and knew what to do. Again i stroke his dick, stroke it with both my hands. Fynn was still rumbling beneath me, hitting his head on something but i didn't stop. "Damn... this feeling... this pressure..." Suddenly Fynns eyes widened. I quickly escaped to the side of the living room before a hot load of cum could knock me off. With every spasm Fynns whole body flexed and gained an additional Kg of pure muscles. This view alone made myself cum. I couldn't hold it back anymore and watched as one load after another escaped my dick. After we both finished i gave Fynn a brief look. He shrugged at me only to flex his right biceps which knocked over the cupboard my father loved so much. I almost came a second. Damn. This idiot. Then it hit me. I grabbed my smartphone, dialed a number and spoke: "Mike, i need another one of those bottles." Part 2: “So, you are telling me you actually dumped all my pills into the toilet because you didn’t believe me but now you do and want more?” Mike sighted. I could tell by him lifting his eyebrows that he wasn’t buying it. I just stood there in full silence, nodded and made small circles with my feet. My mind drifted back to that monstrosity, that sheer wall of muscles I’d left home alone, hidden away from curious eyes. The thought alone made my little member steer up. I wanted those muscles, this feeling of growing bigger, swelling and flexing, only to burst free from my own clothes. Damn. I wanted to touch myself so bad right now, but I couldn’t lose myself in front of Mike. I had to play it cool. “Well… after tossing away those pills I remembered your body a month ago. You were huge before, I would be foolish to deny that, but now you are nearly 20KG bigger.” I approached him, gently tabbing his shoulders. “I believe you”, I said. “No way on earth would you be juicing with some illegal stuff. So please… I want to be built like you. Having those beautiful pecs overshadow those ripped abs… I can’t help myself but droll over your body.” With that I had to convince him. When Mike loved one thing more than his muscular torso and working out it hat to be someone admiring him. And it worked. Mike was turning bright red, smiling like a dumb child whose childhood crush just had confessed to him. He was rubbing the tip of his nose, secretly showing off those arms of his with one gently flex. “Of cause you want those muscles”, he giggled and gave me a double bi. Nothing compared to Fynns newly grown muscles, but it still made me lose my cool. For a moment I found myself just standing there admiring the swollen muscles which he hid under that tight tanktop. I finally released myself from his stunning look. “So, will you help me out?” This time I didn’t have the guts to look him directly into the eyes. Therefore, I shifted my eyes downwards where I saw his abs moving under his top. “I might really do it”, Mike said. “After all it’s you we are talking about. You wouldn’t lie to me, would ya?” We both laughed as he reached down his backpack and searched for something until he found it. “How much do you want?” In his hand he held a glassy bottle full of white pills. There had to be nearly thrice the amount than in mine. Around 60, I guessed. “W-well…”, I stumbled, “could you give me like… like 50 pills?” In fear of being rejected I close my eyes. I had to go all or nothing when I really wanted to outgrow Fynn. I wanted to surprise him, show him a muscular sight he could not even imagine in his wildest dreams. To my surprise Mike did agree to my demands. “Someone is eager to catch up to me, isn’t he?” The buffed-up guy laughed and made his pecs bounce. “Take one hundred of those and you wouldn’t be able to catch up to me because I have all the genes and hard work.” With that he tossed me his bottle and threw his backpack over his right shoulder. “Anything else?”, he asked with a slight look at his smartphone. He probably had to go back home, taking care of his little sister, I guessed. “You are really sure about this?” I still couldn’t believe he had tossed me all the 60 pills. With that I could be gigantic within an hour. Damn… the thought made me hard again. “It’s fine”, Mike replied. “Just be sure to follow those instruction I gave you earlier. And don’t you think about giving any to them to Fynn. I don’t want to imagine what those testosterone-bombs could do to this muscle laughing boy you are so proud of.” He could turn into the most beautiful muscle-beast, I thought and stayed silent. With that we bid our farewells and I went back home. From the outside no one could tell that I was hiding a huge 16-years old boy with muscles every bodybuilder would dream off. I hid Fynn behind those huge stonewalls and checked twice that every curtain was in place where it belonged. Although I could hear a dull rumbling from inside like someone moving big furniture around. As I opened the door and stepped inside I couldn’t believe my eyes. Somehow Fynn managed to move everything from the living room into the kitchen next to it. Only a lonely dresser was still in his right hand. He used it as a weight, lifting it up and down, up and down, up and down. I could see his biceps swelling a little and his chest pushing outwards whenever he took a deep breath. Downwards were his abs still as big and wide as my head. I couldn’t ignore the huge dick hanging between his legs and slowly rubbing over the carpet as he noticed me and leaned forward a little bit. “If it isn’t my beloved tutor, Aaron.” Fynn grinned like only he could and pushed me towards his member until I could actually feel the blood rushing through it. I knew if I stayed there longer, caressing his giant member, I would lose myself and we would start all over again. Therefore, I moved back, a little disappointed because his dick was just coming to life, and shook my head. “We can’t”, I stressed. Not yet. Not before I grew to your size. Suddenly Fynn’s expression shifted to sadness. “And I thought you’d enjoyed our little session before.” He put down the dresser and pushed it away into the kitchen like it did weight nothing. “That’s not it”, I replied. “Just…” I had to change the subject. That’s why I showed him the bottle full of white pills and just like that his expression shifted again. Now he was full of anticipation. Fynn wanted those pills, I could tell by the look on his face, but I pulled them away from him. “Nawww. C’mon… just five or ten more…” Fynn made hist best puppy expression he could muster which didn’t fit his monstrous body at all. I remained focused. “Five or ten? Dude, you don’t want to outgrow this house, won’t ya?” Fynn shrugged. “Why not?” For a split second I really considered it. Fynn growing huge with me riding the top of his arms to the sky. Hmmm… my dick was stirring back to life again and Fynn was smirking. “See, you like it.” Again, he tried to grab some pills and again I evaded him. “No way! It’s my time to shine!” I took five pills out of the bottle and stopped right before my mouth. “Why are you hesitating?”, Fynn asked. “Don’t you want such beautiful muscles like me?” He flexed which made my dick twitch in response. Slowly I inspected his towering body. He nearly had enough room to sit straight without hitting his head on the ceiling. I wouldn’t get this big just by swallowing five pills, but I would definitely be bigger. Without further ado I swallowed the five pills. It didn’t take long for the effects to kick in. At first, I felt a warmth building up inside my body. It started at my centered right where my stomach was located. The heat started to increase and soon it was like an intense fire burning inside of me. Sweat was running down my back which made my shirt stick to my skin. After that I could hear the rumbling. It was like a fine earthquake caged inside my body, making my feet and hands shiver. Then everything went silent. Fynn and I both looked over my body. Nothing had changed. Why didn’t it work? “Maybe swallow another pill? It worked on me”, Fynn grinned and flexed. Yes, I even considered it but before I could snatch another pill something else happened, something… different. As I looked down I could see the floor moving away from me until I realized that I was growing. Fuck. I actually grew. I fucking grew! My shirt didn’t fit me at all anymore. Between the waistband of my trunks and the lower end of my shirt were more than five centimeters missing, revealing my lower abs. My shorts, in the past covering my knees, now looked like a kid’s boxers. How much did I grow? I had to be around 2.2m right now, because I was right looking at Fynns pecs. Sure, he was still sitting but it was an improvement of around 40 centimeters! “Can you believe it?”, I asked and didn’t realize that compared to Fynn I still looked pretty weak. But not for long. For I could feel another growth sensation. This time it wasn’t my bones. No. This time it felt like someone was pumping me up like a never stopping balloon, growing bigger and fuller with every heartbeat. I could feel it in my chest first. Like fucking cement. “Hell yea!”, I shouted as my chest pushed outwards, growing heavier with every second. Slowly I started rubbing my growing pecs, feeling the muscles move and twitch beneath my tightening shirt. As my fingers slid down my body I felt my abs like cobblestones erupting from an already uneven surface. With every breath I took in I could see them bulge out, separating like mountains from valleys, until first fibers appeared to rip apart. “Holy shit. This feels amazing.” I looked up to Fynn and could see his giant member filling with live until it pointed straight towards the ceiling. Hell, you better enjoy the view because I do. I fucking love this feeling, this never ending growth, ripping apart my own clothes. I did a most muscular which shredded my shirt completely. Damn. I almost came. My chest must had doubled in size and now my shoulders and arms were joining in. I clenched my fist and relaxed it. Before my biceps were the size of baseballs but slowly they morphed into firm handballs. Again, I flexed. Fucking softballs. Right now I had to be bigger then Mike, bigger than he who had been working out for months. And I wanted more. Suddenly I let out deep growl like a beast that was hidden deep into a cave and finally broke free. All those muscles that erupted behind me, making me wider, bigger and stronger. I couldn’t see them, but I could feel them. Gradually my bulging arms were pushed sideways as my lats expanded. I had to be fucking 2 meters wide. Hell yeah. I did a lat spread and could hear Fynn moaning behind me. Hope you enjoy this show cause I ain’t done yet. The heat was shifting from my steel-like core down my hips and finally converging inside my legs and cock. Fuck… I moaned like someone was giving me the best blowjob ever. Grasping for more air to fill my lungs I looked down and saw my crotch inflating. Slowly my hardened dick was working its way down my legs rubbing over those bulging muscles, giving me the best sensation, I’d ever had. Something deep inside me was wishing for it to never stop, an endless growth, an endless sexual euphoria. Hearing the first fibers tear apart as my legs grew to the size of powerful trunks, I turned around to reveal what was happening down there to Fynn. The giant boy instantly smirked. “Don’t you think, it’s unfair? Havin all the fun alone?” He gently stroked his member which was already leaking pre over his huge abs. Like mesmerized I stumbled towards him, admiring his dick that was right in front of me. I heard another rip and at last my dick broke free, slapping against my abs and still growing towards my heavy chest. “C’mon, big Guy”, Fynn teased while his left hand found my dick. “I know you want it. You want to take it inside of you, feeling it pulse with every heartbeat.” He caressed my dick. His words turned into a whisper inside my head. Like a Siren it was calling me and like a lost sailor in the middle of nowhere I followed it. Only did I not suffer shipwreck, but managed to meet his Fynn’s cockhead, gently caressing it with my tongue until I tried to swallow it whole. At first it was difficult, nearly impossible. In the end I could taste the first fruits of pleasure from him. While he was fully engulfed into the process I couldn’t stop but feeling something odd. Somehow his dick was growing inside my mouth. I took hold of it with both of my hands, trying to fight it like a living sea monster. I was resisting the beast with all my might, pressed it against my chest. I thought it was all due my imagination but when it suddenly broke free and almost knocked me over, I had to retreat for a moment. “Fynn”, I said. My own dick was leaking pre. A few more stroked and I was a goner. “I think something is wrong with your dick. It’s…” I turned silent before what I had to witness at that moment. Fynn was holding the bottle inside one hand, swallowing one pill after another until they were no more. With another wave of pleasure, he almost instantly gained one meter in height, only to hit his head at the ceiling. He bended forward, his mountainous arms to both of my sides, and his feet pressed against the kitchen’s wall. At this moment several thoughts were rushing through my head. What have you done, you idiot? Fynn, are you for serious? What should I tell mom and dad? What should I tell his parents? Thanks to some muscle-drug your 16 years old son is turning into the most beautiful and horn muscle-giant. In the end I remained silent. As Fynn was bending over me I could look right at his still growing dick. It nearly measured two meters in length and was as big as one of my legs (after the growth). I gulped as I saw his abs rearrange into a landscape of muscles with chasms bigger than I could ever imagine. Every section of his now 10-pack had to be as big as my torso and they were still growing. “Why don’t you …” Fynn let out a soft moan. “Why don’t you feel them?” Obviously, he meant his arms. No… those weren’t arms anymore. Those were weapons. If he really wanted he could have lifted one of those heavy loaded trucks with ease. Damn, they wouldn’t even provide a serious challenge. Those biceps were loaded with brute muscle force. And then he flexed them, enjoying the size of his ever-growing muscles to the most extend. They had to be the size of me and Mike curling up together. I heard the ceiling giving in but his giant back was more than enough to protect me from falling rubble. Fynn giggled as his feet destroyed the kitchen wall only to extend further behind and finally breaking the first window. Fucking hell. This giant was as big as my parent’s house. Another wall collapsed under his growth. At this point I didn’t even care. The only thing I could see was his monstrous chest. Something I couldn’t even describe with simple words. It was so full and hard that I actually could spot all the separate muscles. Every time his upper chest was bursting with sheer muscle-force his middle and lower chest followed, only to be beaten by his upper chest again. Was his growth ever slowing down? I didn’t care. Carefully I made my way towards his pecs, crawled beneath those huge muscle-globes and reached the front of his cock head which by the time was long and wide like a tree trunk. “Maybe I overdid it.” Fynn was smiling. This damn innocent smile. Every time I would be mad at him, this smile was enough to calm me down for years. And those eyes. Those beautiful ocean-like eyes. “Shut up”, I said. “And prepare yourself.” Fynn knit his brow. “Prepare for…” Instead of finishing his sentence he let out a soft moan. “Hmmm… please…” I was working on his dick. Now that it was too big I couldn’t give him a blowjob. Therefore, I decided it would be better to let my new muscles do all the work for him. With every stroke I did, I could actually feel the pressure building up inside of him. Every time his dick was twitching, gaining an additional decimeter in length. Every time new muscles where surfacing beneath his skin. Every time I could feel myself closer to cumming. In the end it didn’t even take ten more strokes for both of us to cum. I was the first one. Shooting load after load I gave Fynn another stroke until all of his muscles contracted, breaking another wall finally towards the ceiling. The moon shined especially bright this night. With the light forming deep shadows on his body, Fynn let out a deep and vibrant growl. Like a beast he shouted and like a beast he came. The streets were flooded with his seed of youth. His growth was finally slowing down until it stopped. “I kinda did a mess to your house”, Fynn said and stood up. He rose and rose and rose. Like a giant mountain made of muscles he was towering over me, a monster the size of two houses stacked on top of each other and as wide as a truck. “Shut up, Idiot”, I said. “Just make sure to leave some pills for me next time.” “No way in hell”, he instantly replied and we both had to laugh.
  11. Ryogatsu

    Der Camping-Ausflug (German)

    Der Campingausflug Kapitel 1: Fynn saß auf der hintersten Bank des Minibusses und folgte träge jeder noch so kleinen Kurve mit seinem Körper. Draußen sah er die von einzelnen Hügeln gesprenkelte Landschaft, die kargen Bäume, die allmählich an Laub verloren und dafür an Nadeln gewannen. Als sie von zuhause aus aufgebrochen waren, hatte er nicht geglaubt, dass die Fahrt so ermüdend und anstrengend werden würde. Mittlerweile schmerzte ihm der Hintern, war vermutlich seit der letzten Talüberfahrt eingeschlafen, seine Augen waren trocken von der kalten Luft, die die Klimaanlage ihm ins Gesicht blies und allmählich verspürte er einen unangenehmen Druck auf der Blase. Ich hätte doch gehen sollen, schmollte er innerlich, und schaute aus dem matten Wagenfenster. Vor gut einer halben Stunde hatten sie am Fichtenplatz Halt gemacht, um neben dem Tank auch ihre eigenen Kraftreserven aufzufüllen. Während Aaron und Caleb die Chance ergriffen hatten, um sich nochmal auf dem Klo zu erleichtern, hatte Fynn lediglich einige Runde an der frischen Luft gedreht. Er war zusammen mit Leif an den Autos und Lastern vorbeigeschlichen, hatte kurz einige mürrische Blicke mit einem echt mies gelaunten Fahrer ausgetauscht, um sich und seinem Freund anschließend einen Müsliriegel mit getrockneten Kirschen zu kaufen. Auf die Frage seines Vaters hin, ob er nicht auch nochmal auf die Toilette wolle hatte er bloß mit einem Schulterzucken geantwortet. „Ich bin schon groß und kann meine Blase gut unter Kontrolle halten“, hatte er gesagt. Groß mag ich sein. Groß und selten dämlich. Fynn wälzte sich in seinem Sitzplatz umher und verschränkte die Arme vor der Brust. Der Wagen hüpfte über die losen Holzleisten einer alten Brücke, die einen sprudelnden Bach überquerte, und er stieß sich den Kopf, wobei er sich auf die eigene Zunge biss. „Verdammt nochmal“, fluchte er. Der Geschmack von Eisen lag ihm im Mund. „Ah ah ah“, ermahnte ihn sein Vater, den Blick stets auf die holprige Straße vor sich gerichtet. „Was habe ich dir übers Fluchen beigebracht, Mr. Hopps?“ Aaron und Caleb stimmten mit ein. „Genau“, kicherten sie. „Das gehört sich aber nicht für solch einen frommen Jungen.“ Die beiden selbsternannten Scherzkekse schauten über die Rückenlehne und warteten wohl darauf, dass er vor Scharm rot anlief. Die Genugtuung gebe ich ihnen ganz gewiss nicht. Stattdessen ging er in die Offensive. „Caleb, warum zeigst du meinem Vater nicht diese tolle Zeitschriftensammlung, die du mitgebracht hast. Du weißt schon, die mit den nackten…“ Eine Wasserflasche flog an seinem Kopf vorbei und traf den schnarchenden Leif genau auf die Nasen. Der Junge schrie auf, stieß sich den Kopf an der Rückenlehne seines Vordernachbars und merkte wohl, wie ihm Tränen ins Gesicht stiegen. Irritiert hielt er sich die Nase und suchte Antworten bei Fynn. „Alles gut“, flüsterte er. „War nur der Wurfversuch des schlechtesten Pitchers, den ich je gesehen habe.“ „Bitte?“ Caleb stieg die Röte ins Gesicht. Du hast mich schon verstanden. Seitdem letzten Monat hatte Caleb angefangen, in einem professionellen Baseballclub mitzuspielen. Zugegeben, er hatte sich als Batter beworben und war somit wesentlich effektiver im Umgang mit dem Schläger. Dennoch hielt er auch einiges von seinen Wurfkünsten, vor allem von seinem angedrehten Caleb-Spezial. „Du darfst es ihm nicht verübeln.“ Aaron legte Caleb die Hand auf die Schulter. „Die Flasche war schon echt beschissen geworfen. Du hast Leif mitten auf die Nase getroffen. Sieh, er blutet sogar.“ „Brauchst du ein Taschentuch?“ Fynn kramte bereits in dem Rucksack, den er provisorisch zwischen den Beinen fixiert hatte, aber Leif schüttelte den Kopf. „Alles gut“, entgegnete er durch zugekniffene Nase. „Ich lasse es einfach ausbluten.“ Er lächelte. Typisch. Verpass ihm nen Schlag auf die Nase und er bedankt sich eher bei dir, als dass er zurückschlägt. Der „gutmütige Leif“ wurde er in ihrer Klasse genannt. Leif der Friedliche, Pazifisten-Leif oder sogar Gandhi. Ihre Mitschüler hatten sich allerlei Namen für sie ausgedacht und einige hatten sie sogar davon übernommen: Caleb war der Sportkoster, weil es keinen Sport gab, den er noch nicht probiert hatte; Aaron nannten sie den Zahlenverschlinger wegen seiner mathematischen Begabung dafür in jeder Aufgabe eine Zahl zu vergessen und trotzdem zum richtigen Ergebnis zu kommen; Leif nannten sie den Gutmütigen und Fynn hatte den Titel Buffetzerstörer verliehen bekommen, weil er einst während des der Abschiedsfeier ihres ehemaligen Schulterleiters gestürzt und das halbe Buffet abgeräumt hatte. Gut, dass er die Schule nach diesem Vorfall verlassen hat. Inzwischen hatten sie die Grenzen des Waldes überschritten. Kiefern, die wie Speere zum Himmel aufragten, umsäumten die schmale Fahrbahn und schufen einen natürlichen Zaun. Sorgfältig verarbeiteter Pflaster wich erdigem und rauem Boden. Die verschlissene Federung des Wagens ließ sie jeden erdenklichen Stein und jede Vertiefung spüren. Fynn meinte, eine Herde Rehe im tiefen Dickicht gesehen zu haben und presste sein Gesicht daraufhin gegen die Fensterscheibe. Waren dort tatsächlich Rehe gewesen, hatte der Motor sie verscheucht. Ein Bach plätscherte zwischen einer alten Kiefer und einem erdigen Felsbrocken hindurch und verschwand hinter einem moosbewachsenen Hang. „Glaubst du, wir werden Hirsche sehen?“ Leif rückte auf, bis sich ihre Beine berührte und ihre Schultern streiften. „Wenn wir Glück haben, sehen wir sogar ne ganze Herde“, entgegnete Fynn. Er fühlte Noahs warmen Atem in seinem Nacken und näherte sich ihm heimlich, indem er die Hand auf das Bein legte. „Und wenn wir Pech haben?“ „Dann finden uns die Wölfe.“ Caleb stieß ein entsetzliches Jaulen aus und Aaron schloss sich dem Schauspiel an. „Zwei Idioten wie für einander geschaffen“, grinste Leif und entfernte sich wieder von Fynn. Im Zelt werde ich über ihn herfallen. Im Auto konnte er das nicht. Nicht, solange sein Vater mit seiner Frömmigkeit noch anwesend war. Ein guter Christ sollte seine Gelüste unter Kontrolle halten, mahnte er stets. Außerdem würde er seine Beziehung mit Leif niemals gutheißen. Ganz anders da seine Mutter. Sie hatte die beiden bereits durchschaut, da waren sie noch gemeinsam zur Realschule gegangen. Es waren diese Blicke, die sie sich gegenseitig zugeworfen hatten, während Fynns vierzehnten Geburtstag, hatte er später erfahren. Anfangs hatten Fynn und Leif noch Angst und Bange gehabt, doch schon bald stellte sich heraus, dass Fynns Mutter sie Voll und Ganz unterstützte. Fast jedes zweite Wochenende scheuchte sie seinen Vater durch irgendwelche Parks, Museen oder Einkaufscentren, sodass sie wenigstens ein paar Stunden alleine hatten. Und welche Stunden das waren. Sein Vater lenkte den Wagen tiefer in den Wald hinein. Sie passierte ein rustikales Schild, dessen Anstrich die Sonne bereits ausgeblichen hatte. Vor ihnen lag der Westliche Caniwald, ein tiefes Geflecht aus meterhohen Kiefern, deren Nadeln in der Mittagssonne golden glänzten; ein Ort voller verborgener Wasserbuchten und bergischen Aufstiegen, die sie dicht unter die Wolken führen würden sowie finsteren Minenschächte und rustikalen Berghütten. Zumindest wenn man all diesen Geschichten glauben durfte. Der Wagen hielt. „Was machst du?“, fragte Fynn und lehnte sich nach vorne. „Bis zur Lichtung ist es noch ein gutes Stück.“ „Dann werdet ihr den Rest laufen müssen.“ Sein Vater deutete auf einen umgestürzten Baumstamm. Wohl ein Opfer des Sturmes vergangener Woche. „Ein Glück, dass ihr junge und kräftige Beine habt.“ Er drehte den Schlüssel herum und erstickte somit den Motor. Draußen schlug Fynn zuerst die unbändige Hitze ins Gesicht. Trotz der Schatten, die die hohen Bäume auf den schmalen Waldweg warfen, hatte die Sonne die Luft gnadenlos aufgeheizt. Er griff an die Wagentür und verbrannte sich dabei fast die Finger. „Ver…“ Ein Fluch wäre beinahe über seinen Lippen gewandert, aber er konnte sich noch einmal zurückhalten. Nicht vor deinem Vater, maßregelte er sich und nutzte die Unterseite seines Shirts zum Schutz, um den Kofferraum zu öffnen. Darin fand er vier große Rucksäcke, jeder mindestens halb so groß wie sie selbst und auch halb so schwer. Jeder von ihnen bekam einen und dazu noch einen Schlafsack und eine Isomatte, die man provisorisch am Rucksack befestigt hatte. Caleb stemmte das Gepäck wie ein Weltmeister. Aaron hatte anfangs ein wenig Probleme und Fynn selbst wäre beim Anlegen fast nach hinten umgefallen. Nach einer Weile hatte er sich allerdings an das neue Gewicht gewöhnt. Der Sport letzten Winter machte sich endlich bemerkbar. Es war Leif um den er sich sorgte. Der fast achtzehnjährige Teenager hielt nicht viel vom Krafttraining und verbrachte seine Freizeit meist auf Spaziergängen oder gemütlichen Wanderungen. Die mangelnde Sportbegeisterung wurde ihm nun zum Verhängnis. „Alles gut“, versicherte er, das Gesicht rot angelaufen und die Knie zittrig wie Pudding, als Fynn ihm näherkam. „Nein, wirklich. Ich schaff das.“ Und in zehn Minuten darf ich dich dann vom Boden abkratzen, wenn dich der Rucksack unter seinem Gewicht begraben hat. „Habt ihr auch wirklich alles dabei?“ Sein Vater tupfte sich mit einem Tuch den Schweiß von der Stirn. „Wenn ich nicht dran gedacht habe, hat es Mum. Du kennst sie.“ Vermutlich trägt sie die Schuld für das schwere Reisegepäck. „Was ist mit den Zelten? „Ein Camping-Ausflug ohne Zelte wäre wohl witzlos, findest du nicht?“ „Die Konserven?“ „Im Notfall gehen wir Jagen oder Angeln. Denk dran. Vor dir steht Baltimores bester Pfadfinder.“ „Und das Kreuz?“ „Glaubst du wirklich, dass unser Ausflug von Dämonen heimgesucht wird?“ „Mr. Hopps!“ „Trage es stets bei mir.“ Fynn fischte ein silbernes Kreuz aus dem Kragen seines Shirts und zeigte es seinem Vater zur Beruhigung. „Gut. Sollte was sein…“ „…finden wir dich und Mutter in der Herberge keine Stunde von hier entfernt. Papa, wir sind keine Kinder mehr. Das wird schon.“ Fynn schloss seinen Vater ein letztes Mal in die Arme und überhörte die überaus erwachsenen Zurufe im Hintergrund. „Wenn ihr so viel Gefallen an einer väterlichen Umarmung findet, warum kommt ihr dann nicht hierher und bedankt euch auch mal bei meinem Vater? Immerhin hat er euch den ganzen Weg hierhergefahren!“ Seine Freunde hörte ihn nicht länger. Caleb war längst über den morschen Baumstamm geklettert und hatte die anderen drei weit hinter sich gelassen, während Aaron gerade drumherum schlich und Leif brav wartete. „Das ist okay“, entgegnete Fynns Vater und löste die Umarmung. „Mögen sie mir nicht danken, so wird der Herr diese gute Tat erkennen.“ Er faltete die Hände vor der Brust und schloss die Augen. Das Zeichen für Fynn, um sich davon zu machen. Es dauerte eine Weile, bis sie den Minibus hinter sich gelassen hatten und sein Vater aus ihrem Sichtfeld verschwunden war. Der Weg durch den Wald führte sie über einen schmalen Pfad, der lediglich für Wanderer ausgelegt war und die vergangenen Monate kaum genutzt wurde. Die Wurzeln sturer Bäumen schlugen bereits über den Gehweg hinaus und bildeten verborgen unter getrocknetem Laub gefährliche Stolperfallen. Es war als wäre der Wald einst vor den Menschen zurückgewichen und würde sich ganz leise und heimlich zurückholen, was damals ihm gehörte. Obwohl seine Freunde zielbewusst vorausliefen, Leif ihm allerdings stets dicht auf den Versen, war es Fynn, der sie anführte. Als er seinem Vater gesagt hatte, er sei der beste Pfadfinder gewesen, hatte er nicht gelogen. Nein, ein frommer Christ tat so was nicht. Tatsächlich hatte Fynn die Wahrheit gesagt. Schon damals hatte er den einen oder anderen Ausflug in diese Wälder unternommen und hatte vom Käferabzeichen bis zum Lagerfeuerabzeichen alles ausprobiert. Aus diesem Grund kannte er auch einen wunderbaren Campingplatz, ganz in der Nähe eines Flusses. Ein wenig abgelegener und gut versteckt hinter einer Wand aus dichtem Gestrüpp und garstigen Dornen kannte er sogar einen kleinen Tümpel, der sein glasklares Wasser direkt aus einer Quelle weiter oben in den Bergen bezog. „Hey, Pfadfinderass, wie weit ist denn noch, bis zur magischen Lichtung?“ Caleb lief ein wenig langsamer, damit sie aufschließen konnten. Der Sportkoster stemmte das Gewicht mit Bravour und hüpfte sogar über einen kleinen Graben, durch den ein winziges Rinnsal Wasser floss. Fynn deutete auf ein Buschwerk, in welcher der Pfad scheinbar verschwand. „Der Platz sollte glatt hinter dieser Wand aus Blättern sein.“ Seine Erinnerungen ließen ihn nicht im Stich. Auf der anderen Seite des Gebüschs entfaltete sich eine Landschaft wie er sie als Kind stets genossen hatte. Vor ihnen lag eine Lichtung, eben und flach. Die Sonne hatte das Gras weiträumig ausgetrocknet, doch dicht am Flussbett gewann es seine saftig grüne Farbe zurück und ließ sogar Blumen spießen. Inmitten der Lichtung entdeckte er einen großen Holzpfahl. Noch erkannte er die Farbe und den bunten Schriftzug darauf. Die Zeit hatte diesem Pfahl ordentlich zugesetzt, hatte ihn abstumpfen und bleich werden lassen, doch diese Platz markierte sein altes Pfadfindercamp. Verloren in alten Kindheitserinnerungen ließ er die Hand über das raue Holz wandern und fluchte, als er sich einen Splitter einfing. Dann traf sein Blick einen alten Dornenbusch und sofort wurde er von kindlicher Vorfreude übermannt. Der massive Rucksack glitt von seinem Rücken. „Komm, Leif“, rief er und drängte seinen Freund zur Eile. „Wohin?“, fragte Leif sichtlich irritiert. Dennoch gehorchte er und befreite sich von der schweren Last. Platsch. Der Rucksack landete im Dreck und wirbelte trockene Erde auf. „Was soll das bitte werden, wenn das fertig ist?“ Caleb schenkte den beiden einen kritischen Blick. „Sollten wir nicht zuerst die Zelte aufbauen?“ „Kümmert ihr euch darum“, drängte Fynn und zehrte Leif tiefer in das Dornengestrüpp. Er wusste genau, wo er hintreten musste, um sich nicht zu verletzen. „Das ist nicht fair!“, grummelte Aaron. „Wieso sollen wir die ganze Arbeit machen?“ Fynn musste sich eine Ausrede einfallen lassen. „Müsst ihr nicht“, entgegnete er kurzerhand. „Wir sammeln Feuerholz für ein Lagerfeuer!“ Zwanzig Schritte gerade aus, am morschen Baumstamm zehn Schritte rechts, der erdigen Wand bis zu einem Graben folgen und dann noch fünf Schritte vorwärts. „Vorsicht“, sprach er und hielt Leif einen Ast aus dem Gesicht. „Hier müssen wir kriechen. Ja, genau dort. Zwischen den Zweigen durch, aber zieh deinen Kopf ein.“ „Warum dieser spontane Ausflug?“, fragte Leif. Er kam dicht hinter ihm hervorgekrochen, hatte die Knie Wund vom ganzen Kriechen. „Damit ich dir das hier zeigen kann.“ Fynn führte seinen Freund an den Rand eines Tümpels. Das Sonnenlicht spiegelte sich auf der Oberfläche und verlieh dem Wasser einen goldenen Glanz. Über einen dicht bewachsenen Hang plätscherte ein Wasserfall, kaum vier Meter hoch und zwei Meter breit, herab und schlug winzige Wellen, die sich bis zum Ufer ausbreiteten und die Wassergräser zum Tanzen brachten. Eine goldene Königslibelle ließ sich auf dem Schilf nieder und schaukelte im warmen Sommerwind auf und ab. „Woher?“ Leif blieben die Worte im Halse stecken. Vermutlich war er den Tränen nahe. Der fährt voll auf sowas. „Hab ihn gefunden, als ich noch ein kleiner Junge war“, erklärte Fynn und stülpte das Shirt über den Kopf. „Bin vorm dicken Tom und seinen Diabetisjüngern davongelaufen und bin dabei zufällig auf diesen Ort gestoßen.“ Die kurze Hose und seine Sandalen folgten, sodass er bis auf seine Boxershorts nichts mehr trug. Leif errötete. „Was tust du da?“, fragte er und schaute an ihm herab. Gewiss gefiel ihm der Anblick. Warum auch nicht? Fynn hatte schließlich einiges für diesen Körper getan, hatte einen halben Herbst und einen ganzen Winter geschwitzt, eingeklemmt unter eisernen Gewichten und umgeben von übelriechenden Männern und Frauen. Über die Monate hatte er einen ansehnlichen Brustansatz entwickelt, straff und leicht nach außen gewölbt, wie es sich gehörte. Seine Schultern waren ein wenig breiter geworden, wenngleich sie mit seinen Armen eine große Schwachstelle seines Körpers ausmachten. Immerhin hingen an ihm nicht länger dürre Äste herab, sondern stattliche Arme, von der Größe eines Golfballs, wenn er sie anspannte. Wenigstens hatte er keine Probleme mit Rumpf und Beine. Während sein Rücken die Arme ein wenig zu beiden Seiten wegdrückte, hatte er unterhalb der Brust bereits die Ansätze eines soliden Sixpacks entwickelt. Zugeben war die unterste Reihe noch nicht sichtbar. Dennoch gefiel ihm der Anblick vor dem Spiegel und er wusste, dass auch Leif Gefallen daran gefunden hatte. Auf den Beinen wiederum hatten sich über die vergangenen Monate gut unterscheidbare Muskelsegmente gebildet und ausgerechnet seine kräftigen Waden waren sein ganzer Stolz. „Wonach sieht es denn aus?“, grinste er und streckte und rekelte sich vor seinem Freund. Sieh gut hin. Das alles habe ich für dich getan. „Ich drehe ein paar Runden im Wasser.“ „Du willst echt darin schwimmen?“ Leif schluckte. Der Junge war mit seinen 1.82m ein wenig größer als Fynn, was dieser allerdings auf den Jahresunterschied schob. Während er vergangenen Herbst seinen 16ten Geburtstag gefeiert hatte und fast 17 war, so war ihm Leif ein ganzes Jahr voraus. Als Leif ihm erklärte, dass sie bereits ein Alter erreicht hätten, bei dem sich nicht mehr viel tun würde in dieser Hinsicht, hatte ihn Fynn schmollend ignoriert. „Warum nicht?“, entgegnete Fynn. Vorsichtig tauchte er den Fuß ein und schreckte zurück. Eiskalt. Genau die richtige Temperatur. „Du bist verrückt“, bemerkte Leif. „Nicht verrückt. Nur am Schwitzen.“ Damit stieg Fynn in den Tümpel hinein, fühlte, wie das Wasser ihn allmählich umgab, bis es ihm bis zur Brust reichte. Die Kälte ließ ihn für einen Augenblick erstarren. Sein Herzschlag setzte aus und er vergaß für diesen flüchtigen Moment, dass über ihm die Sonne knallte. „Pass nur auf, dass du dir keinen Sonnenbrand holst.“ „Pass du lieber auf, dass du dir keinen Ständer holst.“ Damit hatte er Leif erwischt. Sofort stieg ihm die Röte ins Gesicht und bald schon leuchtete er wie ein Hummer im Wasserbad. Auch etwas, worin sein Freund ihm Überlegen war. Untenrum war er hart 15cm groß, Leif hingegen 16.5cm. Nicht, dass es ihn störte. Immerhin gab es keinen Wettbewerb zwischen den beiden. Aaron und Caleb hätten sicher einen daraus gemacht. Die beiden verbrachten noch unzählige Stunden am Tümpel. Zuerst zog Fynn seine Runden im Wasser, genoss die erfrischende Kälte, die davon ausging. Danach lagen sie gemeinsam in der Sonne, warteten, bis Fynn einigermaßen getrocknet war, damit er sich wieder einkleiden konnte. Bevor sie zurück zur Lichtung schlichen, füllte Fynn noch zwei Wasserflaschen, die er für die Nacht im Zelt aufbewahren wollte, und verstaute sie sicher in den tiefen Taschen seiner Hose. Als sie wieder zurückkehrten, wurden sie bereits sehnsüchtig von ihren anderen beiden Freunden erwartet. „Ihr lebt ja noch. Siehst du, Aaron, sie wurden nicht von einem Bären gefressen!“ Caleb entspannte auf einem ausgeklappten Campingstuhl und blätterte in einer Zeitschrift über die neuesten Sporttrends. „Haben ja lange genug gebraucht“, grummelte Aaron. Er schlug gerade den letzten Hering des Zeltes fest. In ihrer Abwesenheit hatten sie nicht nur die Steine für ein Lagerfeuer zusammengesucht, sondern auch die drei Zelte aufgebaut und fachgerecht fixiert. „Habt ihr wenigstens an das Feuerholz gedacht?“ Er warf ihnen einen kritischen Blick zu. Fynn und Leifen sahen einander an. Ups. „Das ist ja wohl die Höhe!“, beschwerte sich Aaron. „Lass gut sein“, lachte Caleb sichtlich amüsiert. „Das einzige Holz, das sie wohl in die Hand genommen haben, befindet sich zwischen ihren Beinen.“ Er zwinkerte ihnen zu und ließ sie somit zeitgleich erröten. Am Ende musste Fynn wieder losziehen. Alleine. Leif sollte dableiben und das Abendessen zusammen mit Caleb vorbereiten. Eine notwendige Sicherheitsmaßnahme, nannte er es. Als Fynn wieder zurückkehrte, war die Sonne hinter den Kieferwipfeln verschwunden und hatte den Weg für die Dämmerung freigemacht. Es dauerte ein wenig, bis das Feuer gut geschützt innerhalb der Steine knisterte, doch am Ende brannte es und neben einem Bohneneintopf gab es außerdem eine von Calebs neuen Spezialitäten. „Das Zeug habe ich früher vor jedem Workout verschlungen“, erklärte er ihnen stolz. „Es gibt deinem Körper nicht nur Energie, sondern pumpt dich dazu noch auf. Gibt kein besseres Gefühl!“ Die anderen wussten nicht ganz, was sie von dieser zähen Pampe halten sollten. Nur Fynn war mutig genug, eine Schüssel zu probieren. Er sah es als seine Pflicht, ein Zeichen der Wiedergutmachung, weil die beiden die Zelte ganz ohne ihre Hilfe aufgebaut hatten. Am Ende bereute er es allerdings. Dreißig Minuten saß er auf der Campingtoilette im Busch fest, bevor er endlich zu Leif ins Zelt stoßen konnte. Sein Freund hatte sich bereits umgezogen, hatte Oberteil und Hose abgelegt und lag auf dem Bauch, während er in einem spannenden Reiseführer blätterte. Leif mochte zwar größer als er gewesen sein, doch wirkte sein Körper dadurch auch schlanker und zierlicher. Dank fehlenden Körperfetts zeichneten sich überall drahtige Muskeln ab. Einige waren kräftiger wie seine Beine, was er den vielen Wanderungen zu verdanken hatte. Andere wiederum hätten ein wenig mehr Fülle vertragen können. Dazu gehörten Brust, Schultern und Arme. „Hast du den Toilettenausflug doch noch überlebt?“, fragte Leif und blätterte zur nächsten Seite. Fynn schwieg. Sein Blick lastete auf Leifs Rücken, unter dessen Haut sich die drahtigen Muskeln verformten, wenn Leif den Arm bewegte, um eine lästige Fliege loszuwerden. Der Hintern in der engen Shorts wirkte prall und wohl geformt. Wer soll da widerstehen? Heimlich ließ Fynn die Hose nach unten gleiten und befreite sich zudem von seinem Shirt, bis er lediglich in Unterwäsche dastand. Sein Glied erwachte bereits zum Leben und er wollte sich dem Verlangen nicht länger widersetzen. Gleich einem Tier fiel er über seinen Freund her, schnappte ihm das Buch aus der Hand und legte es behutsam zur Seite. „Das ist aber nicht freundlich“, entgegnete Leif, doch Fynn brachte ihn zum Schweigen, indem er seine Handgelenke umklammert und sein Gemächt über Leifs wohl geformten Hintern rieb. „Genau so wie ich ihn in Erinnerung hatte“, flüsterte Fynn. Er löste den Griff und ließ sich von Leif auf den Rücken wälzen. Verträumt schaute er seinem Freund in die tiefblauen Augen und strich ihm das pechschwarze Haar aus dem Gesicht. Von unten sah er die flache Brust und darunter die bleiche Haut, die sich über sechs gut sichtbare Muskelsegmente spannte. Wenn ich so wenig Fett am Körper hätte, würde ich viel muskulöser aussehen. Er schmunzelte und presste Leif dicht an seine Brust und fühlte, wie auch er allmählich steif wurde. Ihre Körper rieben aneinander. Verspielt zauste er ihm das Haar und schenkte ihm einen langen und innigen Kuss. Schweiß perlte auf seiner Stirn und floss ihm an den Wangen herab, derweil er die Hände um Leifs Hüften lege und zärtlich über seinen Hintern streichelte. Fynn spürte, wie Leifs Finger heimlich an ihm herabstiegen, ihn von oben bis unten abtasteten und schließlich dicht an seiner Unterwäsche anhielten. Bevor Leif allerdings zugreifen konnte, wälzte ihn Fynn zur Seite, sodass nun er oben lag. „Nicht so vorschnell“, keuchte er. „Ach ja?“ Leif grinste schelmisch und umklammerte Fynns Schaft mit der linken Hand. Fynn stöhnte auf. Schweiß floss von seiner Stirn und tropfte von seiner Nasenspitze herab auf die Brust seines Freundes. Der Atem verließ seinen Mund heiß und flach. Er erwischte sich dabei, wie er stöhnte und um jeden Atemzug rang. „Worauf wartest du noch? Nimm mich!“, betonte er schlagartig und es klang nahezu wie ein Befehl. Zunächst schaute ihn Leif stillschweigend an. Eine Hand lag auf Fynns blondem Haar, die andere an seinem Schaft. Dann nickte er. Mit beiden Händen umfasste er den Bund der Boxershorts und entblößte Fynn vollkommen. Wenig später umfassten zwei Hände sein Glied und massierten es mit vollster Konzentration. „Scheiße“, keuchte Fynn und stieß ein zufriedenes Stöhnen aus. Das Herz in seiner Brust begann zu pulsieren, stärker und härter. Ein Paukenschlag, der ihn erweckte. Während überall auf seinem Körper der Schweiß perlte, fühlte er wie eine unglaubliche Hitze in ihm aufstieg. Verdammt. Am Anfang hielt er es für sein Verlangen, den unbändigen Sexualtrieb, den Leif in ihm ausgelöst hatte, aber schon bald wurde die Hitze unerträglich. „Ist alles gut?“ Leif legte seinem Freund die Hand auf die Stirn und erschrak. „Du glühst ja förmlich! Ist es das Essen? Eine Allergie?“ „Nein“, zischte Fynn kurzerhand. „Das ist keine allergische Reaktion. Das ist etwas… anderes.“ Er hielt einen Augenblick inne und horchte den Schlägen seines Herzens, lauschte dem Rauschen seines eigenen Blutes. Fuck. Ein weiterer Herzschlag brachte seinen Körper zum Beben. Etwas an ihm war anders, etwas, das er nie für möglich gehalten hätte. Es geschah zwischen seinen Beinen und lenkte seine und Leifs Aufmerksamkeit auf sich. Zwischen seinen Beinen hing sein Gemächt, vollkommen erhärtet, doch war es nicht länger seines. Nein. Es veränderte sich, pulsierte mit jedem Herzschlag und wuchs, bis es die Marke von 16 und schließlich von 17 Zentimetern übertraf. Kranker Scheiß. Ist das wirklich meiner? Ungläubig führte er die Hand nach unten und stöhnte. Unmöglich. „Hast du das gesehen?“, fragte er und suchte die Zustimmung bei Leif. „Du hast mich überholt“, entgegnete er, die Hände im eigenen Schritt ruhend. Plötzlich riss Fynn die Augen auf. „Fuck. Es passiert schon wieder.“ „Du meinst, er wird noch länger?“ „Nein“, entgegnete Fynn, die Stirn in Falten gelegt. „Diesmal meine ich etwas anderes.“ Die Hitze, die er zuvor in seinem Schritt wahrgenommen hatte, breitete sich nun über seinen gesamten Körper aus. Er fühlte, wie das Blut in seine Arme, seine Beine und seine Brust strömte und ließ ein tiefes und lüsternes Grollen über seine Lippen wandern. Während Leif weiterhin unter ihm lag, merkte er, wie seine Brust allmählich schwerer wurde. Gleich einem Ballon blähte sie sich vor seinen Augen auf, doch wurde sie nicht mit Luft, sondern mit harter Muskelmasse gefüllt. Beinahe zeitgleich regte sich etwas in seinen Armen. Er führte den rechten vor seine Augen, spannte an und staunte, als eine Erhebung von der Größe eines Tennisballs zurückblieb. Auch der Rest seines Körpers blieb von dem plötzlichen Wachstumsschub nicht verschont. Er kämpfte mit dem Gleichgewicht, während sein Rücken allmählich anschwoll, während seine Arme zu den Seiten hin weggedrückt und seine Schultern praller und härter wurden. Danach folgten seine Beine. Neben den ohnehin schon sichtbaren Muskelsegmenten gesellten sich weitere dazu, nur um von den Hauptgruppen verschlungen zu werden. Schließlich dauerte das Schauspiel keine fünf Minuten, doch in dieser kurzen Zeit hatte sich sein Körper erheblich verändert. Weiterhin ungläubig wandte Fynn den eigenen Arm vor den Augen, betrachtete Bizeps und Trizeps, spannte die Muskeln an und grinste gleich einem Jungen an Weihnachten als er erkannte, dass dies wirklich seine Muskeln waren. „Hatte wohl einen späten Wachstumsschub.“ Fynn richtete sich allmählich auf. Er taumelte von einem Bein auf das andere, bis er im Zelt kniete. Sein neuer Körper fühlte sich fremd, wenngleich nicht weniger aufregend an. „Du hast nen verdammtes Sixpack!“, staunte Leif und kniete sich ebenfalls hin. Nen Sixpack? Voller Aufregung schaute Fynn an sich herab. Verdammt. Das soll mich doch der Blitz beim Scheißen treffen. Genüsslich ließ er seine Finger über sechs perfekt getrennte Segmente wandern, spannte seinen Bauch an und fühlte, wie sich die Muskeln darunter bewegten. „Wenn ich es nicht besser wüsste, würde das für nen verdammten Traum halten.“ „Mir soll’s recht sein“, entgegnete Leif und trat näher an ihn ran. „Hauptsache dieser Traum findet kein Ende.“ Sein Freund tastete ihn gierig mit den Augen ab, betrachtete die volle Brust, die breiten Schultern, das Sixpack, das Gemächt, das zum Bachnabel aufragte und die pulsierenden Beine. „Caleb und du sollten im Flexen gegeneinander antreten und sehen, wer die größeren Muskeln hat.“ Fynn schmunzelte. Die Idee gefiel ihm. Dennoch wollte er zunächst etwas anderes machen. Wild wie ein Tier packte er Leif an den Schultern und presste ihn dicht an sich heran. „Wo waren wir stehen geblieben?“, flüstere er und schenkte ihm einen innigen Kuss. Zum ersten Mal merkte er, dass sie gleich groß waren. Mit diesem Wachstumsschub hatte er seinen Freund eingeholt. Fünf verdammte Zentimeter. Leif schien der Anblick ebenfalls zu gefallen. „Ich wüsste da etwas, das dir gefallen könnte.“ Zugleich glitt er an ihm herab. Seine Hände, warm und glitschig vom Schweiß, umklammerte sein Gemächt und ließen ihn aufstöhnen. Die eigenen Hände zausten liebevoll durch Leifs kurzes Haar, führten ihn näher an sich heran, tiefer in seinen Schritt, bis die Lippen des Jungens ihn vollkommen aufnahmen. Kapitel 2: Fynn kicherte. „Nicht“, murmelte er. „Nicht an den Füßen.“ Das Kitzeln ließ nicht nach. Anfänglich hielt er es für einen von Leifs Scherzen. Schläfrig öffnete er die Augen. Der Junge lag weiterhin neben ihm, hatte den Arm über seine Brust gelegt und schnarchte ausgiebig. Verunsichert lugte Fynn über die eigene Brust, schaute über die ungewohnt kräftigen Muskeln hinweg. Zwischen seinen Füßen raschelte etwas. Ein Büschel rotes Fell huschte an seinem dicken Zeh vorbei und hatte seinen Kopf im Rucksack vergraben. Danach folgte ein flauschiger Schweif. Fluffig wie ein Pinsel, wedelte er von der einen zur anderen Seite. Zwei spitz zulaufende Ohren zuckten, als Fynn sich aufzurichten versuchte. Der Eindringling befreite den Kopf aus dem Rucksack und hielt einen halb geöffneten Müsliriegel zwischen den Zähnen. Beinahe zeitgleich schrien die beiden auf. Der Fuchs stürzte nach vorne, verpasste Fynn einen deftigen Schlag ins Gesicht und flüchte durch das halb geöffnete Zelt. Fynn folgte ihm, das Herz rasend vor Schreck. „Es hat mich gebissen!“, rief er und der Wald erwachte dank seiner Stimme. Noch sah er das feurig rote Tier zwischen den Zelten umherhuschen, dann hatte es sich auch bereits in einem der anliegenden Büsche davongestohlen. Dem großen Tumult schloss sich eine neugierige Krähe an, die in den Resten ihres Lagerfeuers pickte, und den Kopf fragwürdig zur Seite drehte. Danach stocherte sie weiter in der erkalteten Asche herum. „Was hat dich gebissen? Etwa dein Freund?“ Aaron kam aus seinem Zelt hervor. Das dichte braune Haar stand in alle Richtungen ab. Über die Nacht hatte er in Unterwäsche und Unterhemd geschlafen. Die fehlenden Ärmel stellten seine gut gebräunten Arme gut zur Schau. Er war ein wenig kräftiger, wenngleich pummeliger als Leif. So befand er sich auf einer Skala in etwa zwischen seinem Freund und ihm selbst. Das war allerdings vor seinem unerwarteten Wachstumsschub gewesen. Jetzt trennten sie mehr als nur ein paar Muskeln voneinander. Fynn tastete vorsichtig über die blutigen Kratzspuren, die der Fuchs auf seiner Wange zurückgelassen hatte und stieß einen Fluch aus. Brennt fürchterlich. „Das solltest du behandeln lassen“, gähnte Aaron und rieb sich den Morgensand aus den Augen. „Das und… heilige Scheiße. Was ist denn mit dir passiert?!“ Plötzlich hatte Aaron die Augen weit aufgerissen. Seine Blicke tasteten Fynns Körper ab, wanderten über seine Brust, das Sixpack und schließlich weiter nach unten. „Also bei der letzten Dusche hattest du noch nicht so ein Monsterteil.“ Verunsichert schaute Fynn an sich herab. Fuck. Er war nackt wie an dem Tage seiner Geburt, war wohl so eingeschlafen als er und Leif endlich fertig geworden waren und hatte die Kleider im Zelt zurückgelassen. Sofort führte er die Hände schützend nach unten, um zu verbergen, was er zu verbergen vermochte. „Wie viel Zentimeter sind das?“, fragte Aaron neugierig. „17? 17,5?“ „Aaron!“ Fynn hielt das nicht länger aus. Die Röte schoss ihm ins Gesicht. „Nein ernsthaft!“, beharrte Aaron. „Wenn Leifs Mund solche Wunder wirken kann, dann, verzeih mir, aber dann soll er sich gerne auch mal an mir vergreifen. Ich hab euch letzte Nacht gehört und den Geräuschen nach, müsst ihr nen Riesenspaß gehabt haben.“ Das war zu viel für ihn. Mehr konnte er nicht ertragen. Zugleich kehrte ihm Fynn den Rücken zu. Ein Fehler. „Schau sich einer diesen verdammten Rücken an! Verdammt! Warte, bis Caleb davon erfährt!“ Caleb? Auf gar keinen Fall. „Nein!“, schnaubte Fynn kurzerhand und wandte sich um. Er machte einige Schritte auf Aaron zu, bis er direkt vor ihm stand. Seit gestern war er gut zwei Zentimeter größer als sein Gegenüber. „Caleb darf unter keinen Umständen davon erfahren. Nicht heute. Nicht morgen. Niemals.“ „Aber warum denn nicht?“ Aaron legte ihm die Hand auf die Schulter und Fynn fühlte, wie der Junge heimliche die Festigkeit seiner Muskeln überprüfte. „Stell es dir doch nur einmal vor! Ihr könntet euch gegenseitig befühlen, eure Muskeln vergleichen und ich könnte Bilder davon machen!“ Zum Beweis holte er eine Fotokamera hervor, ein Geschenk seines Vaters, dass er vor ihrem Ausflug bekommen hatte, machte einen Schritt nach hinten und drückte auf den Auslöser. Knips. Der Blitz blendete Fynn und ließ ihn für einen flüchtigen Augenblick vergessen, wo er war. „Ein gutes Fotomotiv bist du schon mal.“ Aaron grinste schelmisch. „Was ist denn das? Hast wohl Gefallen an meinem Vorschlag gefunden.“ „Was ist bloß falsch bei dir?“, protestierte Fynn. Zwar mochte er sich unbeeindruckt zeigen, sein Gemächt erweckte bei dem Gedanken daran, dass jemand seine Muskeln befühlen und mit Calebs kräftigen Körper vergleichen könne, zum Leben. „Ich habe genug davon.“ „Was denn?“, entgegnete Aaron. „Ich bin nicht splitterfasernackt aus meinem Zelt gekommen, um meinen Körper der Natur zu präsentieren.“ „Willst du etwa sagen, ich wäre schuld?“ „Wenn du dir schon nichts anziehst, könntest du mir wenigstens verraten, wie ihr das gemacht habt.“ Geduldig wartete Aaron auf eine Antwort. Warte meinetwegen, bis du umfällst. Von mir wirst du nichts erfahren. „Sei einfach still“, knurrte Fynn. Er wollte durch die Öffnung ins Zelt zurückkehren, als ihm Leif entgegenkam. Unter dem Arm hatte er Fynns Anziehsachen eingeklemmt, eine luftige und sommerliche Shorts, ein weites Shirt, das er normalerweise zum Sport anzog und beim Wandern durch die Wälder tragen wollte, und rabenschwarze Unterwäsche. „Was ist passiert?“, fragte er verschlafen und reichte ihm die Sachen. „Hab dich schreien gehört und als ich nachsehen wollte, warst du bereits draußen.“ „Nichts ist passiert“, grummelte Fynn. Beim Gedanken daran, dass er sich wegen einem niedlichen Fuchs beinahe vor Schreck eingenässt hätte, stieg ihm die Röte ins Gesicht. Da habe ich schon an Körpergröße dazugewonnen und führe mich immer noch auf wie ein kleines Kind, das nachts nicht alleine einschlafen kann. Er griff dankend nach seinen Klamotten und schlüpfte zunächst in die Unterwäsche. Leif hatte ausgerechnet ein Stück aus seiner enganliegenden Kollektion ausgewählt. Zum ersten Mal spürte er, dass er auch im Bereich des Hinterns ein wenig an Muskelmasse gewonnen hatte, denn die Unterwäsche zwickte bei jedem Schritt. Außerdem half sie nicht wirklich dabei, sein Gemächt zu verbergen. Die Konturen zeichneten sich deutlich ab. Sowohl Aaron als auch Leif schienen die Wahl der Unterwäsche allerdings zu befürworten. „Offensichtlich ist etwas passiert“, bemerkte Aaron und wandte sich an Leif. „Du hast irgendetwas gemacht, was den kleinen Fynn in einen größeren Fynn verwandelt hat.“ Spricht er von mir oder meinem Penis? Leif schenkte Fynn einen verunsicherten Blick. „Weiß er es etwa?“ „Leif, schau mich an. Jeder, der mich länger als ein Jahr kennt, wird den Unterschied merken. Vor allem, wenn ich nackt vor ihm stehe. Ein Glück, dass du die extra weiten Klamotten ausgewählt hast.“ Fynn zwängte sich in das Shirt und zog es über der Brust straff. Es saß ein wenig enger, seit dem letzten Mal, doch hing es weiterhin lose an den Schultern herab. Solange ich keinen weiteren Wachstumsschub habe, sollte sich zumindest Caleb davon täuschen lassen. Der war ohnehin noch nie der hellste. „So ihr beiden, Schluss mit den Lügen.“ Aaron verschränkte die Arme vor der Brust. „Ich möchte die Wahrheit. Die ganze Wahrheit. Was ist gestern Nacht in diesem Zelt passiert? Warum sieht Fynn fast wie Aaron aus und vor allem, was hat es mit diesem Monsterteil zwischen seinen Beinen auf sich?“ Fynn seufzte. „Du lässt nicht locker, was?“ Er wagte einen Blick auf Calebs Zelt. „Was ist mit ihm?“ „Der?“ Aaron zuckte mit den Schultern. „Der ist seit gut zwanzig Minuten wach und rennt durch den Wald. Seine morgendliche Routine, falls du dich erinnerst. Wegen ihm musst du dir keine Sorgen machen.“ Gemütlich nahm er auf einem ausklappbaren Stuhl Platz und schlug das linke Bein über das andere Knie. „Also? Ich warte.“ „Wir sollten ihm die Wahrheit sagen“, sprach Leif und schaute ihm mit kugelrunden Augen entgegen. Welche Wahrheit, dachte Fynn. Wir wissen doch selber nichts. Und selbst wenn… was will er dann machen? Gerade Typen wie Aaron neigen zur Übertreibung in dieser Hinsicht. Fynn erinnerte sich daran, wie ein Junge Aaron einst gesagt hatte, vom Dreck fressen werde man schlau. Leichtgläubig wie Aaron damals war, hatte er beinahe einen ganzen Eimer voller Erde verschlungen, bevor ihm so übel geworden war, dass er gleich drei Tage im Bett verbracht hatte. Und trotzdem werde ich nicht drum herumkommen. Wieder seufzte Fynn. „Na schön. Aber viel wissen wir auch nicht.“ Also nahmen Fynn und Leif neben ihm Platz und erzählte ihm von ihrem gestrigen Tag. Sie berichteten vom Müsliriegel von der Tankstelle, von ihrem Spaziergang zum Tümpel, den Spielen in der Sonne und dem vergangenen Abendessen. Ein Wort schien dabei Aarons Verdacht zu wecken. „Du glaubst, es könnte an Calebs speziellem Proteinmahl liegen?“, überlegte Fynn und verschränkte die Arme hinter dem Kopf. „Möglich wäre es.“ „Ich halte es für unwahrscheinlich“, entgegnete Leif. „Denkt doch mal nach. Aaron futtert dieses Zeug bestimmt schon seit unzähligen Jahren und sieht trotzdem nicht wie ein Berg aus. Du aber hast bloß eine Schüssel gegessen und schätzungsweise fünf Kilo an Muskelmasse dazugewonnen.“ Deshalb bist du der schlaue von uns beiden. „Mein Freund hat Recht“, stimmte er zu. „Und was ist, wenn es nur einmal funktioniert? Was, wenn die Wirkung über die Zeit nachlässt? Keiner von uns weiß, wie Caleb vorher ausgesehen hat.“ Aaron hielt weiterhin an dem Gedanken fest. „Vielleicht war er einst so ein Dünnling wie Leif hier.“ Er schenkte ihm einen flüchtigen Blick, um sich zu entschuldigen. „Wir können erst sicher sein, wenn wir es ausprobiert haben.“ „Und was schlägst du vor?“ Caleb kam aus einem der Gebüsche gerannt. Das feurige Haar hatte er mit einem Stirnband fixiert und trotzdem hing es ihm dank des Schweißes träge ins Gesicht. In seinen eisigen Augen lag ein zufriedener Schimmer. „Was soll die ernste Stimmung?“, fragte er und streckte sich ein wenig. Das Muskelshirt spannte sich über seine Brust und gab die unterste Reihe seines Sixpacks frei. Die Arme waren aufgebläht. Offenbar hatte er neben dem Laufen noch einige andere Übungen absolviert. Sexy wie eh und je. In diesem Moment wurde sich Fynn abermals bewusst, wie viel trotz der vergangenen Nacht noch zwischen ihm und Caleb fehlte. Den werde ich nie aufholen. „Wo ist denn hier bitte eine ernste Stimmung.“ Aaron sprang auf und zwinkerte Fynn zu. „Wir haben uns gerade nur gefragt, ob noch etwas von deinem Spezialessen übrig ist.“ Calebs Augen leuchteten wie zwei Sterne. „Wer hat das gefragt?“ „Nun… Leif… jap, Leif hat das gefragt.“ „Hab ich nicht“, protestierte Leif. „Hat er doch“, entgegnete Aaron. Er schlich an Caleb vorbei und kniete sich hin, damit er direkt in Leifs Ohren flüstern konnte. „Hör zu. Du bist der schmächtigste von uns allen. Fynn hat bereits von dem Zeug gekostet. Ich mag zwar nicht wirklich Muskeln haben, bin aber immer noch kräftiger als du. Wenn wir sicher sein wollen, dass das Zeug wirkt, brauchen wir ein Versuchskaninchen.“ „Ich will aber…“ Caleb hielt ihm eine Schüssel voller zähem Schleim vor den Mund. Der Gestank brachte den Junge beinahe zum Übergeben. „Hätte ich gewusst, dass du auch was davon willst, hätte ich gleich nen ganzen Topf gemacht!“, grinste Caleb. „Der kleine Leif will endlich groß und stark werden. Wenn du willst, zeige ich dir nachher mal ein paar Übungen.“ „Ich glaube nicht…“ Leif bekam den ersten Löffel in den Mund geschoben. Es war Aaron, der ihn führte. „Der kleine Leif ist überwältig von deiner Großzügigkeit und würde gerne ein paar Übungen sehen, doch zunächst solltest du dich wohl waschen gehen.“ Aaron kniff die Nase zu. „Du riechst wie ein Affe.“ „Das ist Geruch der Männlichkeit“, prahlte Caleb. „Aber vermutlich hast du recht.“ Er stülpte das Muskelshirt über den Kopf und gab eine pralle Brust und ein perfektes Sixpack frei. Was ein Adonis Belt. Fynn erwischte sich dabei, wie er hart wurde. Breite Schultern, starkes Kreuz und kräftige Beine. Der perfekte Körperbau. Vielleicht hätte ein oder zwei Kilo mehr in der gestrigen Nacht nicht geschadet. „Wenn du willst, darfst du dich nachher anschließen.“ Caleb hatte bemerkt, dass Fynn ihn angestarrte und ließ seine Brustmuskeln zucken. „Wenn ich dich so ansehe, scheinst du allerdings nicht mehr allzu weit davon entfernt. Hast wohl doch ein wenig mehr trainiert, als ich in Erinnerung hatte.“ Er lächelte und verschwand in seinem Zelt. Sofort spuckte Leif den Brei wieder aus. „Das ist ja widerlich“, krächzte er. „Und dennoch wirst du alles davon essen müssen“, betonte Aaron kritisch. „Wirklich alles?“ Leif suchte Hilfe bei seinem Freund. Fynn verspürte unglaubliches Mitleid. Dennoch blieb er eisern. „Du wirst die Schüssel zum Wohle der Wissenschaft aufessen müssen“, lächelte er und zauste ihm das Haar. „Tu es für mich.“ Für einen kurzen Moment hielt Leif inne. Er starrte in die Schüssel als laure dort das größte Übel der Menschheit. Dann seufzte er und verzehrte widerstrebe den nächsten Löffel. „Ich werde Wasser brauchen, eine ganze Menge Wasser.“ „Dann sollst du meins haben.“ Fynn verschwand im Zelt und kam mit zwei Wasserflaschen zurück. „Frisches Wasser aus dem Quell der Natur.“ Er reichte seinem Freund die Flaschen und sah zu, wie dieser die erste in einem Zug leerte. Er lächelte unschuldig. „Vielleicht sollte ich noch ein paar Flaschen holen.“ Kapitel 3: Vier prall gefüllte Wasserflaschen später hatte Leif den letzten Löffel zäher Pampe hinuntergeschluckt. Das Gesicht des Jungen war kreidebleich angelaufen, die Augen hinter der Brille von solch einer Leere erfüllt, dass es Fynn fast Unbehagen bereitete. „Ich werde mich ein wenig hinlegen und ausruhen, wenn es euch recht ist“, hatte Leif ihnen mitgeteilt und war zittrig und schwach von seinem Stuhl aufgestanden und auf allen Vieren zurück ins Zelt gekrochen. „Ruf uns, wenn du irgendetwas spürst“, hatte Aaron lediglich entgegnet und Fynn hatte ihm dafür einen Schlag auf den Hinterkopf verpasst. „Du hättest ein wenig mehr Rücksicht zeigen können.“ Er hockte neben Aaron am Fluss, lauschte dem sanften Rauschen und den Schatten, die durch das Wasser huschten. „Immerhin hat er das Ganze nur deinetwegen getan.“ Aaron zeigte sich keiner Schuld bewusst. Er zupfte an der Angelschnur und gähnte verschlafen. Für heute hatte er einen entspannenden Angelausflug geplant, wollte tagsüber in der Sonne schmoren und am Abend ein paar leckere Fische braten. „Tu nicht so, als würde es dich nicht auch interessieren“, erklärte er und betrachtete aufmerksam sein Spiegelbild in der Wasseroberfläche. Eine Libelle schwirrte über das kühle Nass, ließ sich auf einem Grashalm nieder und wippte sachte im Wind. „Wenn Calebs Zeug tatsächlich der Grund für deinen spontanen Wachstumsschub ist, wirst auch du profitieren. Stell es dir einmal vor: Dein Freund mit Muskeln. Du hättest einen sanftmütigen Muskelriesen. Du kannst mir nicht erzählen, dass dich das kalt lässt.“ Tat es nicht. Allein der Gedanke daran, erweckte seine Männlichkeit. Nach allem hatte Fynn seinen Freund schon mehrfach dazu gedrängt, ein wenig Gewicht zuzulegen. Leider hatte Leif kein wirkliches Interesse an gusseisernen Gewichten und verschwitzten Trainingsgeräten. Aber ihn deswegen gleich so zu überrumpeln? Nachdenklich zeichnete Fynn einige Kreise im Dreck, nutzte dazu einen hauchdünnen Zweig, der entzweibrach. „Vielleicht habe ich vorhin ein wenig übertrieben.“ Aaron griff nach seinem Shirt und tupfte sich damit die schweißgetränkte Brust trocken. Bis auf die Unterhose hatte er all seine Kleider abgelegt, um möglichst viel von der Sonne abzukriegen. Anders als er und Leif, überzog Aarons Körper eine feine und dennoch deutlich sichtbare Fettschicht, die ihm weichere Konturen verlieh. Gewiss besaß der Junge auch einige Muskelansätze. Seine Arme zum Beispiel wirkten kräftig und solide. Wenn er sie anwinkelte, um die Angelschnur ein wenig einzuholen, zeichneten sich darauf weiche Schatten ab und hoben die Muskeln dadurch hervor. „Mein ganzes Leben lang versuche ich jetzt schon, Muskeln aufzubauen“, erklärte Aaron. „Hab’s mit Gewichten versucht, mit Elektroschocks, Maschinen, Calisthenics und sogar drei Monate lang mit Caleb trainiert. Nichts. Mein Arzt meint, es läge an einer Störung meines Hormonhaushalts, hat mir deshalb sogar schon Testosteron verschrieben. Hat aber auch nicht wirklich geholfen.“ Er lächelte und erschrak, als der Köder im Wasser verschwand. Sofort schnappte er nach der Angelroute und begann, heftig gegen die Strömung und den Fisch anzukämpfen. „Komm schon!“, schnaubte er. Für einen flüchtigen Augenblick zeigte sich der Fisch, indem er einen großen Sprung aus dem Wasser machte. Seine Schuppen glänzten wie ein Panzer aus reinem Gold. Als das Tier wieder eintauchte, spritzte es Wasser in alle Richtungen. „Verdammt nochmal“, krächzte Aaron. Schweiß perlte auf seinem ganzen Körper und verlieh den zitternden Muskeln darunter ein kräftigeres Aussehen. „Vielleicht solltest du…“ Fynn wollte eine Warnung aussprechen, als Aaron nach vorne kippte. Noch im selben Augenblick stürzte Fynn nach vorne, schloss die Arme um Aarons Rücken und umklammerte die Angelroute mit seinen kräftigen Händen. „Ist ein bisschen hartnäckiger“, schnaubte Aaron. „Du bist ein Idiot“, entgegnete Fynn unbeeindruckt. „Lass. Einfach. Los!“ Seine eigenen Muskeln blähten sich auf. Das Biest war zäh und kräftig, nutzte die Flussströmung zu seinem eigenen Vorteil. Kein gewöhnlicher Fisch besitzt solch brachiale Kräfte. „Lass ein wenig nach!“, forderte Aaron. „Jetzt wieder ziehen. Nicht nach rechts. Nach links! Ihm folgen und im richtigen Moment gegenwirken. Jetzt einholen. Vorsichtig. Nicht zu schnell!“ Abermals schoss der Fisch aus dem Wasser hervor und diesmal stürzte Aaron nach vorne, um ihn aus der Luft zu schnappen. Will der mich verarschen? Zwar hielt Aaron den Fisch letztlich tatsächlich in den Händen, doch wäre er deswegen auch fast in den Fluss gestürzt. Einzig und allein Fynn hatte er es zu verdanken, dass er nicht fortgespült wurde. Der Junge umklammerte Aarons Bauch und zog ihn mit einem Ruck zurück ans Ufer. Beide fielen nach hinten und landeten im Gras. Neben ihnen lag das Untier. Ein Fisch von der Größe eines halben Haies mit Schuppen so rein wie poliertes Gold. Zähne wie Messerspitzen ragten aus dem Maul hervor und wuchsen in alle Richtungen. Die Flossen zappelten wild umher, während es um Luft rang, aber letztlich gab es den Überlebenskampf auf und badete nunmehr im Sonnenlicht. „Knappe Sache“, lächelte Aaron. „Da hätte es mich doch glatt umgerissen.“ Weiterhin ruhte er auf Fynns Körper, hatte den eigenen Kopf auf dessen Brust aufgelegt und lauschte offenbar dem Herz, das darin vor Aufregung trommelte. Eine Hand hatte sich offenbar unter sein Shirt verloren, denn die feuchten Finger tasteten neugierig über seine Bauchmuskulatur und wanderten an ihm herauf. „Was wird das?“ Fynn warf ihm einen kritischen Blick zu und fühlte plötzlich, wie Aaron in seine Brustwarze kniff. „Bist du verrückt geworden?“, keuchte Fynn. „Es fühlt sich sogar noch besser an als es aussieht.“ Sabber floss an Aarons Lippen herab. „So kräftig und so hart. Wie ein Fels.“ Beide seiner Hände hatten sich inzwischen unter Fynns Shirt gestohlen und krempelten es ein wenig zurück, um die erste Reihe harter Bauchmuskeln zu offenbaren. Die Spitze seines Gemächts lugte allmählich unter dem Hosenbund hervor und wuchs in die Länge, während er erhärtete. „Nicht“, keuchte Fynn. Schweiß perlte auf seiner Stirn. Sein Herz schlug schneller und schneller. Was tut dieser Idiot da? Aarons Augen fanden sein Glied. „Ich sollte nicht“, sprach er beinahe hypnotisiert. „Sollte es nicht anfassen.“ Seine Finger strichen zärtlich über die Unterwäsche und zogen die Konturen nach. Fynn stöhnte. „Und trotzdem möchte ich es in die Finger nehmen. Ich möchte die Männlichkeit darin pulsieren spüren.“ Seine Finger griffen zu und Fynn erwachte. Mit einem Mal stieß er Aaron zur Seite. Der Junge plumpste auf den Rasen und landete geradewegs neben seinem Fisch. „Verzeih“, sprach er und schaute ihm dabei nicht in die Augen. „Ich weiß auch nicht, was in mich gefahren ist. Es ist nur… dieser Körper… seitdem du diesen Wachstumsschub hattest, wirkst du plötzlich so unwiderstehlich.“ Aaron starrte absichtlich zwischen die Füße. Er schämt sich, erkannte Fynn kurzerhand. Er schämt sich wegen seinem Verhalten, wegen seinem Aussehen, wegen dem zwischen seinen Beinen. Fynn kam nicht drumherum, Aarons mächtigen Ständer zu bemerken. Vollkommen erregt stand er ihm in nichts nach, nicht einmal nachdem er in der gestrigen Nacht gewachsen war. Zwar mochte es Aaron an Muskeln fehlen, trotzdem führte er dort ein stolzes Biest zwischen den Beinen. „Würdest du mir…“ Aaron hielt einen Augenblick inne. „Würdest du mir trotzdem mit dem Fisch helfen? Ich kann ihn nicht alleine kochen, würde euch aber gerne einen Gefallen tun.“ „Den willst du kochen?“ Fynn schaute das Ungetüm an und schüttelte den Kopf. Aaron aber war voller Begeisterung. „Natürlich!“, entgegnete er kurzangebunden. „Noch nie etwas von Aarons speziellem Fischeintopf gehört?“ Fynn schwieg. „Na dann wird es aber höchste Zeit. Komm, ich zeige dir, wie man einen Fisch filetiert.“ Der Junge stand wieder aufrecht und vergaß dabei, das Ungetüm zwischen seinen Beinen. „K-könntest du dir vorher etwas überziehen?“ Wenngleich Fynn bereits einiges gesehen hatte, trieb ihn der Anblick von Aarons Gemächt, wie es direkt vor seinem Gesicht pulsierte, die Röte ins Gesicht. „Warum kümmerst du dich nicht darum, während ich deine Brust massieren?“ Aaron grinste schelmisch, brach daraufhin aber umgehend in lautes Gelächter aus. „Mache nur Spaß. Warte kurz.“ Natürlich macht er Spaß, dachte Fynn und schaute Aaron hinterher. Das macht er immer. Warum erregt es mich dann so sehr? Den Rest des Tages verbrachten Fynn und Aaron damit, den Fischeintopf vorzubereiten. Sie entfernten gemeinsam die Schuppen, schnitten das kostbare Fleisch in feine Stücke, nachdem Aaron ihm gezeigt hatte, wie man die Gräten mit einer feinen Pinzette herauszog. Den Fisch würzte er lediglich mit ein wenig Salz und Pfeffer, schnitt dazu ein paar Pilze und Kartoffeln und ließ das ganze dann eine Stunde über dem Feuer kochen. Danach riefen sie alle zusammen. Leif blieb allerdings im Zelt und vertröstete sie lediglich. Wenn es ihm besserginge, würde er sich eine Schüssel nehmen. Selbst Caleb blieb nur kurz und aß viel lieber etwas von seiner zähen Pampe. „Einen Fisch rühre ich nicht an“, sagte er und schüttelte angewidert den Kopf. „Schmecken bestimmt genauso wie sie riechen. Widerlich.“ Hast du mal an deiner eigenen Pampe gerochen? Während Fynn selber nur einen kleinen Bissen riskierte und schnell merkte, dass ihm Monstermakrele nicht schmeckte, verschlang Aaron den halben Eintopf. „Nichts schmeckt besser als die Frucht eigener, harter Arbeit.“ Er lachte und klopfte sich auf den prall gefüllten Bauch. Danach lauschten sie noch ein wenig den spannenden Geschichten, die Caleb ihnen zu erzählen hatte. Angeblich war er auf seinen sportlichen Wanderungen durch den Wald an einer baufälligen Hängebrücke vorbeigekommen. „Die meisten Holzstreben waren herausgebrochen, sonst wäre ich ja drüber gestiegen“, erzählte er enttäuscht. „Auf der anderen Seite hab ich ne hübsche Hütte gesehen. Was meint ihr? Ob es noch einen anderen Weg über den Fluss gibt?“ „Warum sollte dich das überhaupt interessieren?“ Aaron schleckte die letzten Fischreste aus seiner Schüssel, bevor er sie in einem Wasserbad versenkte. „Warum nicht?“, entgegnete Caleb. „Wenn das Abenteuer ruft, muss ein echter Mann folgen. Du stimmst mir doch zu, oder Fynn?“ Fynn schwieg. „Fynn?“ „Hm?“ Er hob den Kopf. Hat er mich was gefragt? Die ganze Zeit musste er an Leif und diesen übelriechenden Proteinbrei denken. Nicht, dass er sich ne Lebensmittelvergiftung eingefangen hat. „Wisst ihr“, sprach er schließlich und stand auf. „Ich werde mich bereits zurückziehen. Leif scheint es nicht gut zu gehen und ich würde ihm gerne noch ein bisschen Gesellschaft leisten.“ „Der wird schon wieder“, bemerkte Caleb. „Nach seinem ersten Bissen, lag mein Bruder auch erstmal für nen paar Tage flach.“ Ein paar Tage? Was zum Teufel hast du uns vorgesetzt? Fynn musste sich unbedingt nochmal bei seinem Freund entschuldigen. Hätte er gewusst, dass Caleb sie zu vergiften versuchte, er hätte ihn niemals dazu gedrängt, auch nur einen Löffel in den Mund zu nehmen. Hastig öffnete er den Reisverschluss des Zeltes und schritt herein. Im Inneren war die Luft muffig und stank nach Schweiß. Ein einsames Lämpchen brannte in der hinteren Ecke und schien auf Leifs Gesicht. Der Junge war kreidebleich und hatte sich vollkommen in den Schlafsack zurückgezogen. Schweiß perlte auf seiner Stirn und verlief zwischen den einzelnen Falten. „Wie geht es dir?“, fragte Fynn und zog das Zelt hinter sich zu. „Echt beschissen“, keuchte Leif. „Mein Körper fühlt sich an, als würde er jeden Augenblick in Flammen aufgehen und ich weiß nicht, aber… ich glaube, wir sollten deinen Vater anrufen.“ „Wieso denn das?“ Fynn ging neben seinem Freund nieder und strich ihm das feuchte Haar aus dem Gesicht. „Soll ich dir Wasser bringen? Vielleicht hilft eine Abkühlung?“ „Das meine ich nicht“, entgegnete Leif. Röte stieg ihm ins Gesicht. „Was denn dann?“ „Warte. Ich zeig’s dir.“ Daraufhin richtete Leif allmählich den Oberkörper auf. Die Decke glitt ihm von den Schultern und gab die weiterhin schmale Statur seines Freundes preis: Eine drahtige Brust, knochige Schultern und dünne Arme. Also hat es nicht gewirkt. Das alles umsonst. Fynn ärgerte sich über seine eigene Naivität, doch vielmehr ärgerte er sich, dass er seinen Freund zu solch einer Dummheit gezwungen hatte. Er wollte es nicht. Und trotzdem haben wir ihn dazu gedrängt. „Bitte erschrick nicht“, sprach sein Freund und zog die Decke von seinen Beinen. Fynn weitete die Augen. Zum Vorschein kam Leifs Gemächt, ein pulsierendes Biest, dass steif gegen seinen Bauch schlug und knapp unter der Brust stoppte. Es maß eine halbe Armlänge und war auch beinahe so breit wie einer. Mit jedem Herzschlag schien es zum Leben zu erwachen. Das verstehe ich nicht. Fynn beugte sich nach vorne und betrachtete die glühende Spitze. Wieso ist seiner fast 40 cm lang? Was hat er gemacht? „Du solltest ihm besser nicht zu nahekommen.“ Leif lächelte verlegen, ein Lächeln, das bald verschwunden war. Stattdessen stieß er ein Stöhnen aus und blies heiße Luft durch seine Nasenlöcher. „Scheiße“, hauchte er. Seine Hände umklammerten sein Gemächt, umfassten den Schaft und ließen die Adern darauf anschwellen. „Es fängt schon wieder an…“ Fynn traute seinen Augen nicht, als der Schaft seines Freundes einen weiteren Zentimeter an Länge gewann. Etwas tief in seinem Inneren wollte zugreifen und den Wachstumsschub am eigenen Leib erfahren. Er selbst war binnen weniger Sekunden hart geworden und zupfte an dem Stoff seiner Shorts. Scheiße man. Was tue ich hier? Mein eigener Freund hat ein Monsterteil, das selbst einen Stier vor Neid erblassen lassen würde und ich fasste mir zwischen den eigenen Schritt? Bin ich verrückt geworden? Seine Finger berührten den Kopf von Leifs Gemächt. „Nicht“, hauchte der Junge und stöhnte auf. Es glüht förmlich und trotzdem… seine Hände umschlossen den Schaft und spürten das Blut darin kochen. So… groß. Leif legte derweil den Kopf in den Nacken. „Ich habe nie darum gebeten.“ Tränen flossen an seinen Augen herab und vermengten sich mit dem Schweiß, der ihm auf die Brust tropfte. Überall auf seinem Körper glitzerte der Schweiß. Die drahtigen Muskeln darunter kamen zum Vorschein. Die Haut spannte sich straff darüber und hatte eine feurige Farbe angenommen. Ich habe ihn noch nie so angespannt gesehen. Gefällt es ihm oder hat er Schmerzen? Plötzlich erkannte Fynn, dass Leif vor einem weiteren Wachstumsschub stand. Diesmal allerdings betraf es nicht sein Glied, sondern den Rest seines Körpers. „Ich will das nicht“, schluchzte Leif. „Psssh.“ Fynn versuchte ihn zu beruhigen. „Wehre dich nicht dagegen.“ Er selbst stülpte das Shirt über den Kopf und präsentierte Leif seinen neuen Körper. Zärtlich strich er über dessen Arm, fühlte die Schweißperlen darauf kondensieren und das Blut darunter kochen. Dann, ganz sachte und langsam, führte er Leifs Hand auf seine Brust, ließ die zittrigen Finger über die Muskeln wandern und zudrücken. „Sag mir, fühlt sich das nicht gut an?“ Er schaute seinem Freund tief in die blauen Augen und führte die Hand weiter nach unten, wo sie die oberste Reihe seines Sixpacks traf. Leif schniefte. „Schon… aber…“ Ein tiefes Grollen kam aus dem Inneren seines Körpers und ließ diesen erzittern. Mittlerweile wirkte Leif wie nach einem anstrengenden Workout. All seine Muskeln hatten sich vollgesogen mit Blut und wirkten kräftiger und praller denn je. „Kein aber“, flüstere Fynn und gab seinem Freund einen Kuss auf die Stirn. Er wird sich daran gewöhnen. Ganz bestimmt. „Komm.“ Er öffnete die Arme und empfing seinen Freunden mit einer ausgiebigen Umarmung. „Du brauchst keine Angst zu haben. Ich bleibe bei dir.“ Leif antworte nicht. Stattdessen warf er den Kopf nach hinten. Zuerst geschah es in Leifs Brust. Wie auch einst bei Fynn blähte sie sich allmählich auf, füllte sich mit steinharter Muskelmasse, bis sie die Größe zweier Handballhälften erreicht hatte. Dennoch war ein Ende nicht in Sicht. So kräftig und prall. Als nächstes folgten Arme und Schultern. Dünn umklammerten sie seinen Körper, doch allmählich schwollen sie an, wurden kräftiger und kräftiger. Mit jedem Herzschlag tauchten neue Muskeln auf. Fynn fühlte, wie zwei kräftige Trizepse ihn allmählich zerdrückten und ihm den Atem raubten. Dennoch hielt er an seinem Freund fest. Schließlich hatte er es ihm versprochen. Leifs Schultern waren das einzige, was diese mächtigen Arme übertreffen konnte. Erst schwollen sie auf die Größe zweier Handbälle, doch schon bald hatten sie die Formfestigkeit von gusseisernen Kanonenkugeln erreicht. Beinahe gedankenverloren ließ Fynn seine Hände über die Schultern wandern und erfühlte drei perfekt separierte Muskelsegmente. Plötzlich stieß Leif ein tiefes Knurren aus. Allmählich schien er sich an den Gedanken, einen Körper voller Muskeln zu haben, zu gewöhnen. Mit weit aufgerissenen Augen verfolge Fynn das Spektakel und erkannte voller Schreck, dass sein Freund allmählich an Größe dazu gewann. Während kräftige Latissimi die weiterhin anschwellenden Arme zu beiden Seiten wegdrückten und ihm ein monströses Erscheinen verliehen, wuchs Leif über ihn hinweg. Spätestens als er ihm direkt auf die prall gefüllten Brustmuskeln starren konnte, auf die einzelnen Muskelfasern, die darin zum Leben erwachten und das Fleisch unter der Haut zum Tanzen brachten, wusste er, dass sie übertrieben hatten. Aber warum? Warum schlägt Calebs Zeug so gut an? „Siehst du das, Fynn?“, staunte Leif. „Es hört nicht mehr auf. Ich werde immer größer. Und ich muss zugeben…“ Seine Beine explodierten mit schierer Muskelmasse und hüllten die Knochen darunter vollkommen ein. „Es fühlt sich so verdamm gut an. Mein ganzer Körper… meine Arme wirken wie Baumstämme.“ Er löste die Umarmung und präsentierte die wundervollsten Arme, die Fynn jemals zu Gesicht bekommen hatte. Adern pulsierten darauf. Zwei perfekt geformte Handbälle. „Mein Bauch… scheiße…“ Leif stöhnte als sein Gemächt zwischen seinen Brustmuskeln eingeklemmt wurde. Hinter dem Schaft verborgen lagen sechs wohl geformte Bauchmuskeln. Wie eine Hügellandschaft durchzogen von tiefen Klüften zeichneten sie sich unter der Haut ab und schimmerten dank des Schweißes. „Bitte“, flehte Leif. „Mach, dass es nie wieder aufhört.“ Sein Kopf traf auf die Zeltdecke. Wieder wurden seine Muskeln mit Zement gefüllt „Nein, Leif, entgegnete Fynn. „Du hast genug.“ „Genug?“ Leif richtete sich allmählich auf und nutzte seine neuen kräftigen Arme um durch den Stoff des Zeltes zu brechen. Im Sitzen reichte ihm Fynn gerade einmal bis zu den Knien. Einst hatte er seinen Freund um wenige Zentimeter überragt. Nun lastete Leifs schwerer Schatten auf seinen Schultern. „Gefällt dir mein neues Aussehen nicht?“ Leif präsentierte all seinen Muskeln, indem er einen Most-Muscular vollzog. Fuck. Der Anblick alleine reichte aus, dass Fynn kam. Sein Gemächt explodierte mit Lust. Ein Schuss nach dem anderen füllte seine Unterwäsche und ließ ihn verlegen zurück. Scheiße. Warum turnt mich der Anblick so an. Erschöpft richtete er sich auf. Selbst, wenn er stand, reichte er seinem Freund bloß bis zur unteren Brustmuskulatur. „Du bist ein Monstrum.“ Leif blickte an sich herab. Immerhin ließ der Wachstumsschub endlich nach. Verlegen befühlte er seine neuen Armmuskeln und kicherte unschuldig. „Vielleicht hast du Recht. Vielleicht habe ich ein wenig übertrieben.“ „Ein wenig ist gut.“ Aaron kam aus seinem Zelt hervorgekrochen. „Verdammte scheiße. Leif man. Du bist ein Monster! Nicht, dass ich über dich richten dürfte.“ Fynn verstand nicht und wandte sich deshalb um. „Wie ist das möglich?“, sprach er mit heruntergelassener Kinnlade. Auch Aaron hatte signifikant an Körpergröße dazu gewonnen. Beide waren sie gleich auf, nur hatte Aaron mehr Muskelmasse am Körper. Eine wohl geformte Brust, zwei kräftige Arme, ein Eightpack und Schultern so breit wie er einst lang gewesen war. Und scheiße man… war das? Ja. Zwischen seinen Beinen hing ein Biest von einem Glied. Die Saat der Lust tropfte am schlaffen Schaft herab. „Bist wohl genau so überrascht wie ich“, entgegnete Aaron und schritt an ihm vorbei. Jeder seiner Schritte brachte den Boden zum Erbeben. Sein Blick fiel auf Leifs pulsierendes Gemächt. „Sag bloß, du hast ihm nicht dabei geholfen?“ Er grinste schelmisch und Leif errötete. „Beruhig euch, Leute.“ Fynn kreuzte die Arme vor der Brust. „Wir müssen uns etwas einfallen lassen, bevor…“ „Bevor was?“ So viel dazu. Caleb zog die Brauen tief ins Gesicht. „Ich denke, ihr alle schuldet mir eine Erklärung.“ Kapitel 4: „Ich bin bitter enttäuscht von euch und besonders von dir, Fynn.“ Caleb warf ihm einen Blick zu, der ihn gefrieren ließ. „Ich mag ein Sportfanatiker mit der entsprechenden Muskelmasse sein, aber das ist alles komplett natürlich. Das Zeug, was ihr gegessen habt? Nicht mehr als ein Gemisch aus rohen Eiern, Putenbrust, Milch und Hülsenfrüchten. Niemals würde ich mich mit irgend nem Zeug zu pumpen, das mich groß und dämlich macht.“ Diesmal wandte er sich direkt an Aaron, der trotz seiner Größe wie ein kleiner Junge zusammengesunken war. „Das Gefühl, deinen eigenen Körper dank harter Arbeit im Fitnessstudio wachsen zu sehen, ist doch das beste an einem Workout. Keine Abkürzungen. Keine Tricks.“ Er seufzte und warf den Kopf nach hinten. Das feurige Haar folgte dabei der Bewegung des Windes, der zur Nacht hin stärker geworden war. Alle schwiegen sie. Aaron und Leif hatten ihre Männlichkeit mit einer Decke verdeckt, sodass lediglich ihre nackten Oberkörper zu sehen waren. Das Feuer der Öllampe warf schwere Schatten auf ihre Muskeln und ließ sie größer und gewaltiger wirken als sie es jemals gewesen waren. Während Leif vor Scharm wie eine Tomate glühte und sich schüchtern hinter Fynn verbarg, hatte Aaron seit ihrem Treffen kein einziges Wort mehr gesprochen. Stattdessen starrte er lediglich zwischen die eigenen Beine, schob die vertrocknete Erde mit seinen Füßen zu einem Haufen zusammen. Wir sind schon ein jämmerlicher Haufen. Ein Zweimeter-Riese, der sich weiterhin wie mein kleiner und schüchterner Freund verhält und grübelnder Muskelberg, der seine Stimme verloren hat. Nur er allein weiß, was in seinem Kopf vorgeht. Fynn seufzte. „Hör zu“, sprach er und streichelte dabei die kräftigen Beine seines Freundes. „Das alles war nur ein großes Missgeschick. Hätten wir geahnt, dass es…“ Ein Blick auf seinen Freund genügte. „Hätten wir gewusst, dass es derart ausatmet, wir hätten niemals…“ „Macht euch keine Vorwürfe“, entgegnete Caleb kurzerhand. „Ihr hattet keine Ahnung.“ „Und du hast sie?“ Aarons kühle Stimme hätte ihn beinahe vor Schreck umgeworfen. Caleb nickte. „Während ihr eure… Muskelexzesse hattet, habe ich in meinem Handy ein wenig recherchiert. Wegen der verlassenen Hütte oben am Tannengipfel. Offenbar haben ein paar verdammt schlaue Typen dort oben irgendwelche Spielchen getrieben. Im Darkweb gehen Gerüchte eines militärischen Forschungsprojekts umher. Die Foren waren letztes Jahr voll davon.“ „Und was hat das mit uns zu tun?“ Aaron zeigte sich unbeeindruckt. „Nun warte doch mal ab“, knurrte Caleb. „Die haben Experimente durchgeführt. Erst an Tieren, dann an Menschen. Der Fisch, den du vorhin gegessen hast, der muss auch von dort oben stammen. Angeblich wurden die Forschungen eingestellt und das Zeug vernichtet.“ Das brachte Fynn auf eine Idee. „Glaubst du, die haben das Zeug in den Fluss gekippt?“ „Würde zumindest erklären, warum du und Leif auch gewachsen seid. Die Strömung muss das Zeug bis zu deinem geliebten Tümpel getragen haben. Das Wasser hat es verdünnt und du hattest bloß Hautkontakt, weswegen du nicht gleich auf Baumhöhe gewachsen bist. Dein Freund allerdings hatte weniger Glück.“ Leif lächelte unschuldig. Wieder stieg ihm die Röte ins Gesicht. „Wie viele Flaschen hat er nochmal getrunken?“ „Fünf“, hauchte er kurz angebunden. „Es waren fünf volle Flaschen.“ „Das heißt, wenn wir diese Tümpel finden, können wir mehr wachsen?“ Aaron musste sich ordentlich zurückhalten. Seine Hände zogen die Decke über seinen Beinen straff. Was hat dieser Idiot schon wieder vor? „Noch mehr wachsen?“ Fynn hatte sich wohl verhört. „Du willst… nein. Auf gar keinen Fall.“ „Fynn, hat Recht“, stimmte Caleb zu. „Wer weiß, was das Zeug tatsächlich mit euch anstellt. Außerdem… was ist mit deinen Eltern? Wie willst du ihnen deinen plötzlichen Wachstumsspurt erklären?“ „Nicht nur unsere Eltern werden Fragen stellen.“ Leif schluckte ängstlich. „Was ist, wenn die, die das damals in die Wege geleitet haben, davon erfahren und uns zum Schweigen bringen wollen?“ Daran hatte Fynn noch gar nicht gedacht. Seine Hand ruhte weiterhin auf Leifs Bein und er spürte, wie diesem ein Schauer durch den Körper jagte. Er fürchtet sich, erkannte Fynn. „Ich werde nicht zulassen, dass sie dir etwas antun.“ Um seiner Aussage mehr Wert zu verleihen, schnappte er sich Leifs Hand und drückte sie mit der seinen. Das schien ihn ein wenig zu beruhigen. Gut. „Wir werden morgen früh zur Berghütte aufbrechen. Bis dein Vater zurückkommt, bleiben uns noch gut zwölf Stunden.“ Caleb gähnte verschlafen. „Gute Idee“, ergänzte Fynn. „Vielleicht hat, wer auch immer dort oben war, etwas Nützliches zurückgelassen.“ „Gut, dass wir das besprochen haben.“ Caleb stand auf und streckte sich. „Morgen um sechs brechen wir auf. Bis dahin sollte jeder von euch eine ordentliche Mütze Schlaf bekommen.“ Er lenkte sein Augenmerk auf ihr zerstörtes Zelt. „Fynn und Leif können in meinem Zelt schlafen.“ „Und was ist mit dir?“, fragte Leif kurzerhand. „Ich schlafe mit Aaron zusammen. Sieht nur zu, dass ihr in dieser Nacht wirklich nichts mehr treibt. Ich verstehe ja, dass so ein großer und gewaltiger Körper äußerst erregend ist, aber wir haben nur noch die beiden Zelte.“ Er wandte sich nun an Aaron, der über beide Ohren strahlte. „Das gleiche gilt auch für dich. Erwische ich dich einmal mit deiner Hand in meiner oder deiner Hose, kastriere ich dich mit einer Nagelpfeile.“ Am nächsten Morgen standen sie tatsächlich alle geschniegelt und gestriegelt vor dem Pfad, der sie höher und tiefer in den Wald hineinführen würde. Während man Aaron mit Leichtigkeit in ein Shirt und eine luftige Jogginghose von Caleb gesteckt hatte (er mochte ein wenig bulkier darin aussehen als der ursprüngliche Besitzer), trug Leif lediglich eine provisorische Tracht aus Decken. Irgendwie hatte Fynn sie ihm um die Hüfte und über Brust und Schultern gewickelt, sodass er ein wenig wie einer dieser Römer aussah. Wirklich wohl fühlte er sich darin allerdings nicht. Wenigstens muss er nicht nackt gehen. „Seid ihr alle bereit?“ Caleb zurrte das Stirnband enger, das seine stachligen Haare fixierte und ließ die Schultern kreisen. „Bis zur Hütte sind es gut anderthalb Stunden Fußmarsch. Wir werden nur zum Pinkeln rasten.“ „Kann ich nicht doch vielleicht hierbleiben.“ Leifs Stimme drang zart aus dem Hintergrund. Fynn schaute ihm direkt auf die linke Brust, die durch eine offene Stelle in der Deckentracht hervorragte. In der gestrigen Nacht hatte er sich mehrmals zurückhalten müssen. Mitten im Schlaf hatte Leif seine mächtigen Arme um ihn geschlossen und ihn härter werden lassen als jemals zuvor. „Du wirst mitkommen, ob du willst oder nicht“, betonte Caleb. „Nach allem geht es hier vor allem um deinen übernatürlichen Körper.“ Aaron schmunzelte. „Wer weiß? Vielleicht finden wir noch was, um uns größer zu machen.“ Calebs Blick alleine genügte, um ihn zum Schweigen zu bringen. „Sonst noch irgendwelche brillanten Ideen? Keiner? Gut.“ Fortan ging es stets bergauf. Über die Nacht hatte sich der Himmel über ihren Köpfen zugezogen. Die Luft war schwül und lag Fynn schwer in der Lunge, während er einen Fuß vor den anderen setzte, seinen massiven Freund stets im Blick. Bei jedem Schritt verformten sich die Rückenmuskeln, passten sich der Bewegung an. Ein Schauspiel, das ihn erregen würde, wenn der Weg vor ihnen nicht so anstrengend und schwer wäre. Bloß einmal hielten sie an, um Wasser zu lassen. Trotz seiner neuen kräftigen Beine nutzte Fynn die Gelegenheit um sich auf einem Baumstumpf niederzulassen und einen Schluck aus seiner Wasserflasche zu nehmen. „Willst du auch?“, fragte er Leif. Der Junge nickte. Bevor er die Flasche allerdings ansetzte, zögerte er. „Die kommt doch nicht aus dem Tümpel, oder?“ Das amüsierte ihn. „Den Fehler mache ich nicht zweimal. Hab’s aus dem Fluss geholt und abgekocht. Caleb hat bereits daraus getrunken. Also sollte es sicher sein.“ Leif verschnaufte und trank sie zur Hälfe leer. Danach ging sie auch schon weiter. Sie passierten die baufällige Hängebrücke und starrten den tosenden Fluss herab. Steine wie Speere ragten aus den schaumigen Wassermassen hervor. Ein schlagkräftiges Argument für sie, nicht den Weg über die morschen Holzleisten zu wählen. Stattdessen wählten sie einen Umweg, der sie dich an den Klippenvorbeiführte. Bald schon erreichten sie ein Schild, dass Hoffnung verhieß. Demnach gab es einen weiteren Übergang keine hundert Meter von ihrem Standort entfernt. Inzwischen wurde es auch höchste Zeit. Der Himmel verdunkelte sich und erste mutige Tropfen stürzten sich in die Tiefe, wo sie ihre Körper benetzten. Als sie die andere Hängebrücke überschritten, musste sich Fynn von Leif tragen lassen. Auf wagemutige Balanceakte in schwindelerregenden Höhe hatte er noch nie sonderlich gut reagiert. Die Blässe stand ihm ins Gesicht geschrieben. Hätte er gefrühstückt, wäre es ihm sicherlich hochgekommen. Eine weitere halbe Stunde später erreichten sie endlich ihr Ziel. Gerade rechtzeitig, denn der Himmel riss nun vollkommen auf. Zu lauwarmen Regentropfen gesellten sich kräftige Windböen, die an den Wipfel hoher Tannen zehrten, und tiefes Donnergrollen. Jetzt lag es an Fynn, seinen Freund schützend in die alte Holzhütte zu führen. Schon damals hatte Leif lieber die Decke über den Kopf geschlungen als vor einem weit geöffneten Fenster zu stehen und dem Orchester des Sturmes zu lauschen. Heute bangte er dank seiner neu gewonnen Größe umso mehr um sein Leben. Aarons Spruch, er sei nun ein wandelnder Blitzableiter half dabei überhaupt nicht. Die Tür zur Holzhütte stand verdächtig offen. „Hallo?“, rief Fynn, indes er vorsichtig hereinschritt. „Ist jemand da?“ Einzig und allein der Wind antwortete ihm, ein Heulen, das durch Mark und Knochen fuhr. „Verlassen, wie ich’s euch gesagt habe.“ Caleb jagte ihm einen Todesschreck ein. Das Herz rutschte ihm in die Hose und er hätte aufgeschrien, wenn nicht all seine Freunde anwesend gewesen wären. Reiß dich zusammen, verdammt! „Ich schlage vor, wir schauen uns hier ein wenig um. Ich kümmere mich um den Dachboden.“ Caleb zeigte auf ein altes Geflecht aus morschen Stufen, die sich zur finsteren Decke hinauf wandten. „Dann nehme ich den Keller!“ Aaron rannte davon, aber Fynn packte sein Handgelenk und hielt ihn auf. „Und wir kommen mit“, knurrte er. Den lasse ich hier nicht alleine. „Und wer kümmert sich dann ums Erdgeschoss?“ „Leif, wärst du wohl so freundlich?“ Leif nickte stillschweigend. Aaron stammelte daraufhin irgendeinen Fluch. „Dann haben wir wohl ein Date“, lächelte Fynn und folgte Aaron durch den verlassenen Korridor. Über einen Abstieg gelangten sie schließlich in den Keller. Unten war es sogar noch unheimlicher als oben. Nicht einmal das Unwetter konnte diesen Ort noch erhellen. Das Grollen hingegen wurde zu seinem ständigen Wegbegleiter. „Was glaubst du? Werden wir etwas finden?“ Irgendwie musste er sich ablenken und auf andere Gedanken bringen. „Irgendwas finden wir bestimmt.“ Aaron hatte seine Handytaschenlampe eingeschaltet und leuchtete ihnen den Weg. Der Fußboden war anders als erwartet nicht aus Holz gefertigt, sondern mit sterilen Fliesen ausgelegt. Selbiges galt für die Wände. Unterhalb der morschen Decke hatte sich allerdings eine schwarze Schimmelschicht gebildet. Was auch immer einst hier geschehen war, lag nunmehr in der Vergangenheit. „Hier ist was!“ Aaron deutete auf einen großen Raum und eilte voraus. Wenn etwas in dieser alten Berghütte auf geheime Forschungsaktivitäten hindeuten sollte, dann musste es dieser Raum gewesen sein. An den Wänden standen reihenweise Tische und Regale. Einige von ihnen waren noch mit Reagenzgläsern, Erlenmeyerkolben und anderen sonderbaren Behältnissen gefüllt. Eine Konstruktion ließ auf eine Küche hindeuten. Die Töpfe hatte man allerdings sorgfältig zurückgestellt und vollständig gereinigt. Fynn stieß gegen ein Tischbein. Zeit für sein eigenes Handy. Das grelle Licht schien frontal auf einen eisernen Tisch, der Fynn am ehesten an einen Operationssaal erinnerte. Riemen hingen zu den Seiten herab. Einer war während der Prozedur offenbar gerissen. „Hier ist etwas!“, rief Fynn, aber Aaron schenkte ihm keine Beachtung. Vorsichtig beugte sich Fynn nach vorne. Mit all der befremdlichen Muskelmasse war es schwer, unter den Tisch zu greifen. Schließlich hielt er ein altes Dokument in den Händen. Die Zahlen darauf ließen ihn erschaudern. Hier hatte tatsächlich jemand an einem Serum geforscht und war offenbar erfolgreich gewesen. Eine Tabelle zeigte die Veränderung eines Testsubjekts auf. Vergrößerter Brustumfang, aufgeblähte Armmuskulatur, geschwollenes Genital und erhöhter Lusttrieb. Innerhalb einer Woche hatte sich das Gewicht der Person verdoppelt. Bilder zeigten Ausschnitte des Geschöpfs, das sie erschaffen hatten. Fynns Gemächt erwachte, während er die Finger über die kräftigen Brustmuskeln wandern ließ. Die haben Supermenschen erschaffen. Und offenbar hatten sie nicht über einen Rückweg nachgedacht. „Schau dir das mal an“, bemerkte Fynn und lief auf Aaron zu. Der Junge erschrak und wandte sich ihm blitzschnell zu. Hinter dem Rücken hielt er irgendetwas versteckt. „Was hast du da?“, fragte Fynn kritisch. Aaron lächelte unschuldig. „Nichts.“ „Zeig her.“ „Da ist nichts. Wirklich.“ Aaron blieb stur. In einem Moment der Unvorsichtigkeit konnte Fynn einen Blick auf das Gefäß erhaschen. Eine grünliche Flüssigkeit schimmerte darin. „Das ist doch nicht etwa…?“ „Ich will bloß einen Schluck nehmen!“ Ehe Aaron den Flaschenhals ansetzen konnte, hatte Fynn seine Hände umklammert. „Kommt gar nicht in Frage!“, protestierte er. „Ein Schluck davon und du bist jenseits jeder Rettung!“ „Vielleicht möchte ich gar nicht gerettet werden? Vielleicht möchte ich größer als ihr alle zusammen sein!“ „Du bist ein Idiot!“ „Aber ein Muskelidiot!“ Beide zehrten sie am Gefäß. Gleich einem Tauziehwettbewerb wanderte das Gefäß mal in die eine und mal in die andere Richtung. Fynns Muskeln übersäuerten bereits und trotzdem wollte er nicht nachgeben. Aaron mochte mittlerweile stärker als er gewesen sein, aber Fynn hatte die größere Willenskraft. „Lass los!“, knurrte Aaron. „Wie du willst!“ Daraufhin ließ Fynn das Gefäß los. Aaron, der nicht damit gerechnet hatte, taumelte nach hinten und verlor den Halt. Klirr. „Was hast du getan?!“ Sein Blick fiel auf die Scherben zu seinen Füßen. „Du hast es verschüttet.“ „Leute.“ Leifs Stimme drang an sie heran. Sein Gesicht war von grünem Schleim überzogen. „Was ist das für ein Zeug?“ Plötzlich riss er die Augen auf. „Nein. Bitte nicht.“ Fynn traute sich nicht zu antworten. Allmählich verschwand die grüne Substanz, indem sie in Leifs Haut einzog. Scheiße man. Das ist gerade nicht passiert. „Das ist so unfair!“, grummelte Aaron und verschränkte die Arme vor der Brust. „Was tust du hier unten?! Solltest du nicht oben sein?“ Fynns Stimme klang wie ein Paukenschlag. „Ich habe oben nichts gefunden und wollte runterkommen und euch bei eurer Suche helfen.“ Schweiß perlte bereits auf Leifs Stirn. Sein ganzer Körper schimmerte im Licht seiner Handytaschenlampe. „Fuck.“ Er schnaufte. „Fynn, bitte, du musst es irgendwie…“ Ein Stöhnen kam über seine Lippen. „Mhmmm…“ Heißer Dampf stieg von seinem Körper auf. Tief in seiner Brust klang der dumpfe Paukenschlag seines Herzens. Badum. Badum. Ein Trommelschlag, der lauter und lauter wurde und seine Veränderung ankündigte. „Ungh… fuck…“ Unter Leifs Deckentracht regte sich etwas. Eine große Beule zeichnete sich ab und wuchs mit jeder verstreichenden Sekunde in die Länge. „Ahh… scheiße. Bitte. Fynn…“ Plötzlich wuchs Leif in die Höhe. Lediglich wenige Zentimeter, doch es reichte aus, um die Spitze seines Gemächts unter der Decke hervorstehen zu lassen. „Wehre dich nicht dagegen“, hauchte Fynn. Der Anblick der Spitze ließ ihn umgehend hart werden. So groß. Er griff in seinen Schritt und umfasste seinen eigenen Schaft. Leifs Gemächt musste mittlerweile so dick und lang wie ein kräftiger Männerarm gewesen sein. Trotzdem war kein Ende in Sicht. Während draußen der Sturm seinen Höhepunkt erreichte, Donner und Blitze gleichermaßen um die Vorherrschaft rangen, stieg heißer Dampf von Leifs Körper auf. Schweiß hatte das Gewand, das er trug, dunkel eingefärbt, sodass es inzwischen wie eine zweite Haut an seinem Körper haftete. Darunter erkannte Fynn die ersten Veränderungen, ein Beben, das Leifs Körper erschütterte und sich allmählich ausbreitete, bis es ihn in komplette Ekstase versetzt hatte. „Ich wehre mich nicht dagegen“, stöhnte sein Freund. Weitere Zentimeter gesellten sich zu seiner Körpergröße dazu. „Im Gegenteil.“ Langsam hob er den Arm, auf dass sich die Decke über seine mächtige Brust spannte und erste Fasern rissen. „Ich kann es fühlen. Eine unglaubliche Kraft. Sie fließ durch meinen Körper.“ Er spannte seinen rechten Arm an und ließ Muskeln von der Größe eines Volleyballs anschwellen. „Mit jedem Atemzug fühlt er sich gewaltiger an…“ Als hätte er es kontrollieren können, füllte sich sein Arm mit noch mehr Muskelmasse. Muskeln, die Fynn noch nie zuvor gesehen hatte, kamen zum Vorschein und wurden von größeren Muskeln verschluckt. Sein Trizeps verlieh seinem Arm die Größe eines Beines und war so mächtig, dass Fynn beide Hände zum Befühlen gebraucht hätte. Der Bizeps, inzwischen von der Größe eines prall gefüllten Basketballs, pulsierte mit jedem Donnergrollen und ging nahtlos in einen Vorderarm über, der allmählich die Größe einer von Fynns Waden annahm. „Scheiße“, keuchte Leif. „Es fühlt sich so verdammt gut an. Meine Brust…“ Fynn hörte das Reißen von Fasern und schaute hinauf zur Brust seines Freundes, welche sich vor ihm aufbäumte. „Warum macht es mich so hart?“ Mit beiden Händen fühlte er über die prallen Muskeln, tastete über die reißenden Muskelfasern, die Raum für größere, stabilere Fasern schafften. Jeder Teil seiner Brust schien den anderen übertrumpfen zu wollen. Wenn die untere Brust an Fülle und Gewicht dazugewann, holte die mittlere auf, bloß um schließlich von der oberen verschlungen zu werden. Wie zwei Hälften einer Globuskugel zeichneten sich die Brustmuskeln unter der eingerissenen Decke ab. „Ich halte es nicht mehr aus“, stöhnte Leif und fing an, die Decke entzwei zu reißen. Derweil stießen seine Schultern zum Wettkampf der Muskeln dazu. Fuck. Sind das wirklich seine Schultern? Fynn hatte sie als massive Kanonenkugeln in Erinnerung gehabt, aber mittlerweile übertrafen sie selbst einen Medizinball. Jedes Muskelsegment hatte ein eigenständiges Leben entwickelt. Seine neuen Schultern verliehen Leif eine unnatürliche Breite. Er stieß gegen ein Seitenregal und zerdrückte es schlichtweg unter seiner Kraft. „Aaron!“, rief Fynn kurzerhand, als er sich für einen kurzen Augenblick von der Verwandlung seines Freundes loslösen konnte. Aaron schaute mit seinem Gemächt in der Hand zu und schenkte ihm nur so wenig Beachtung wie unbedingt möglich. „Du musst Caleb warnen!“ „Wieso?“, entgegnete Aaron. „Mach es einfach!“ Fynn hatte keine Zeit für solche Spielchen und Aaron schien den Ernst der Lage zu erkennen. „Wie du willst“, grummelte er, versteckte sein Gemächt in der Hose und zwängte sich an Leif vorbei in die Freiheit. „Aber du bist mir was schuldig! Nach allem hätte ich das sein können!“ „Scheiße man…“ Leif stieß ein tiefes Grollen aus. Mittlerweile hatte er die Hände um sein Glied geschlungen. Es pulsierte gleich einem lebendig gewordenen Biest und hatte die Größe eines ausgewachsenen Mannes erreicht. Während es zur Decke ragte, schienen weitere Muskeln auf Leifs Körper aufzutauchen. Der Junge spürte es und lenkte Fynns Aufmerksamkeit auf seinen Rücken. Wieder rissen Fasern und binnen weniger Sekunden explodierten zwei gigantische Latissimi aus der Decke hervor. Vollkommen nackt stand sein Freund nun vor ihm, ein mächtiger Rücken, der von einer Laborwand zur anderen ragte. „Verzeih mir, Fynn“, hauchte Leif und krümmte sich nach vorne, als sein Kopf die Decke berührte, „aber ich kann nicht länger.“ Seine Finger drückten zu und ließen ihn aufstöhnen. „Ich muss es einfach tun.“ Während Leif damit beschäftigt war, sein eigenes Gemächt zu massieren, ragte ihm Fynn inzwischen gerade einmal bis zum Bauchnabel. Ein steinharter Wall von Bauchmuskeln hatte ihn beinahe vollkommen verschlungen. Acht perfekt voneinander getrennte Segmente zählte Fynn, acht Segmente, die größer und kräftiger als seine geschlossene Faust waren, acht Segmente, die ihn zum Anfassen, zum Berühren einluden. Nein, sagte er sich selbst. Ich darf nicht… ich sollte nicht… sollte ihn nicht ausnutzen. Sein Glied zuckte in seiner Hose, nachdem Leif noch einmal an Höhe dazugewann und sich erste Risse in der Decke formten. „Meine Beine“, stöhnte Leif. „Fuck. So groß. So stark.“ Von Leifs Stimme gelenkt schaute Fynn nach unten. Scheiße man. Ein feuchter Fleck bildete sich dort, wo sein Glied gegen die Hose presste. Leifs Beine waren gigantisch, zwei Baumstämme, die er nicht länger umfassen konnte. Neben den Hauptmuskeln, die mit jedem Atemzug anschwollen und sich gegenseitig verdrängten, hatten sich kleinere Gruppen dazugesellt. Die Knie waren unter den Massen beinahe vollkommen verschwunden. Alleine die Waden waren breiter als sein eigener Rumpf und wurden sogar noch größer, als Leif donnernd auf die Knie sackte, um sich selbst mehr Raum zu verpassen. „Du musst mir helfen“, hauchte Leif. Er schnappte sich seinen Freund, eine Hand so groß wie sein eigener Rumpf und schob ihn dicht an sein pulsierendes Glied heran. „Bitte“, flehte Leif und presste die Hände gegen die Außenwände. Nicht mehr lange und er würde durch die Decke brechen. Inzwischen hatte Leif den Raum vollkommen ausgefüllt. Seine Schultern hatten die Größe zweier Lasterreifen angenommen und wurden lediglich von diesen massiven Brustmuskeln, die ihn mit ihren Schatten in Finsternis hüllten, übertrumpft. Ihm helfen? Fynn betrachtete den pulsierenden Schaft, gegen den ihn sein Freund unweigerlich geschoben hatte. Das Teil hatte die Festigkeit eines Baumstammes erreicht mit dem einzigen Unterschied, das das Leben darin förmlich explodierte. Zaghaft legte er die Arme darum und spürte, wie sein Freund erwachte und zufrieden grollte. „Das ist es“, stöhnte er und warf den Kopf nach hinten. Fynn schaute zu beiden Seiten und erkannte die mächtigen Beine, die ihn einhüllten. Wenige Sekunden später trafen Leifs Füße auf die Außenwand und schufen somit einen Durchbruch. „Mehr!“, grollte Leif, seine Stimme dem Nachhall eines Donners gleich. „Fester.“ Fuck. Fynn war so kurz davor, einzig und allein dank dieses spektakulären Anblicks zu kommen. Er fing an, das Gemächt seines Freundes voller Euphorie zu massieren. Inzwischen brach Leif durch die Decke, doch das hielt ihn nicht auf. In einer einzigen Bewegung, in welcher er seine Arme anspannte, riss er die nächste Außenwand ein. Mittlerweile musste er ein Monstrum von sechs Metern Höhe und fünf Metern breite gewesen sein. Ein Glied von der Länge eines Baumes gab die ersten Tropfen der Lust preis und verdeckte Bauchmuskeln, von denen jedes einzelne Segment so groß wie ein Medizinball war. „Mhmmmm…“, stöhnte Leif. „Hör nicht auf.“ Während Fynn weiterhin sein Glied massierte, fühlte Leif über seinen anschwellenden Arm, ließ ihn entspannen, um ihn mit neuer Größe zurückzuholen. „Ich bin… ahhh… scheiße…“ Dem Klang nach zu urteilen war Leif kurz vor seinem Abschluss. Fynn war schon vor einer Minutengekommen, was ihn nicht daran hinderte weiterhin hart zu bleiben. „Ich… ich…“ Leif stieß ein tiefes Grollen aus. Seine Füße brachen durch die nächste Außenwand. Von oben warfen grelle Blitze ihr Licht auf diesen monströsen Körper. „Fuck.“ Plötzlich verwandelte sich Leifs Glied in Stein. Noch einmal explodierten seine Muskeln mit Kraft. Seine Brust riss die Treppe ein, die zuvor zum Dachboden geführt hatte. Sein Rücken brach durch eine Fensterfront und ließ erste Regentropfen in den Keller hinein. Dann explodierte er selbst. Sein Gemächt gab eine Ladung nach der anderen frei. Eine gigantische Hand packte Fynn und hievte sie nach oben. Verängstigt schaute er mit an, wie Leifs ganzer Körper unter der Gewalt des Orgasmus kontrahierte und weiter anschwoll, bis er durch das Dach brach und das Haus vollständig zerstörte. Die weiße Saat der Lust floss an seinem Schaft herab und verschwand im tosenden Fluss. Nachdem der Orgasmus endlich abgeklungen war, schien auch Leifs Wachstumsschub ein Ende zu finden. Vorsichtig legte der Gigant seinen Freund auf seine Bauchmuskeln. Fynn konnte nicht einmal über die enormen Brustmuskeln hinwegsehen. „Das war gut“, keuchte Leif und lächelte unschuldig. Sein ganzer Körper strotzte vor Kraft. Ich habe ein Monster geschaffen, dachte Fynn und kletterte über die Bauchmuskeln und hüpfte über eine Rille zwischen der unteren und mittleren Partition. Der finale Wachstumsschub hatte seinen Freund in ein Monstrum von der Größe eines Hauses verwandelt. Er hatte das heißeste Monster geschaffen, dass er jemals gesehen hatte. Ein Muskelriese. Und er ist mein Freund. Fuck. Was gäbe ich dafür, mit ihm zu wachsen.
  12. teroyugi

    Dad's Growth (Furry)

    Dad’s Growth In a quaint suburban town lived a family of muscle heads. They were the Brooks. The father who went by Big B was a black Caucasian Shepherd dog. He was a towering figure in person and as the owner of the only construction company in their town. Ever since high school Big B was an avid sports fur, more specifically a star in the wrestling ring. Till today the local high school display his award for bringing home the trophy in the wrestling championship on his own, a feat that no one had ever accomplish ever again. Sadly after graduation and starting a family at 18 the dog did not maintain his physique. Once a prime example of physical prowess, the shepherd had been reduced to a bear like build. His once hard washboard abs was replaced by a soft gut. What used to be a dense barrel chest and powerful titanic thighs were now soft and smoother a little. Even his once powerful grapefruit sized arms that could carry half the cheerleading team had grown weaker. He was fortunate that his long fluffy fur made it hard for others to see what had become to his body. Still the other furs respected Big B for his work and effort as a single father. One drunken night after the prom with the captain of the debate team resulted in a shotgun marriage and the arrival of a beautiful baby boy. Big B’s wife wasn’t satisfied with being forced into the role of a mother at such a young age so they filed for a divorce in less than a year, but the baby would stay with him. He worked hard to build a proper home for his boy, started at the construction company as nothing more than a grunt worker but he worked his way up and rubbed elbows with the right fur until he could set up his own company. Soon he moved from a run-down apartment to a proper terrace house where his son could grow up well. The pup was named Benny. Like his father the pup was tall, by 15 his head was the same level as his old man. His fur was jet black from head to toe with patches of orange on his back and forehead. He also inherited his father’s love of sports as he led the school’s football team, and after joining college he continued the sport he loved. Big B could not deny that he felt a pang of jealousy watching his son reach the same level of musculature he had at that age. It reminded him that he was getting old. Determined to make a change for himself while his son was away in college he would do everything it takes to build his muscles again. In now times, Benny was due to come home for his 2 week semester break. Sporting a plain blue t shirt and jeans the 19 year old dog slept throughout his bus ride home as the weeks before was crammed with finals and overdue assignments. He could not wait to crash on his old bed. By the time he reached the bus stop his phone showed that it was 6:30 p.m. His dad promised to pick him the night before, but he never showed up. Another reason for Benny to be concerned, already on the phone his dad sounded weird, he kept breathing heavily into the phone and weird groaning sounds came from him. After waiting for an hour with no dad in sight Benny decided to lug himself and his backpack on foot. The young pup reached home at 7:30 p.m. Panting heavily with his tongue out he really wanted to give his dad a piece of his mind. As he approached the door his ears perked up to weird sounds coming from the inside. Pressing his ear against the wooden white door he could hear odd squishing sounds like someone walking through a puddle. Then he heard his father’s gruff voice grunting and saying “Fuck”. Was something wrong? Was his dad in danger? Benny had to find out. Unsure of what to face if there was an intruder he planned to tackle them on sight, and if his dad was injured he had to run fast to get help. His heart was racing, ready to burst out of his chest as he knocked on the door loudly. It was when he heard his dad’s reply that all the tension within him was sapped away. “H-hold on,” his dad’s voice said. The door flew open and Benny was left speechless at what he saw. His eyes were staring straight at the largest pair of pecs he had ever seen. They were large enough to be mistaken for watermelons. Benny had to take a step back to see the massive creature taking up the entire door frame. The creature’s feet were massive with thighs so wide and thick that it could crush an entire bike. Hard 8 pack abs lined its stomach area. It wore a yellow jockstrap that did nothing to hide the thick semi hard dick the size of Benny’s forearm and two massive globes that hung beneath the member. And still that wasn’t all of it, the rest of the creature’s arms and head was hidden away by the small door frame. He didn’t want to believe it but the creature had to be his father. “D-ad?” Benny called out softly. “Son?” The creature ducked under the doorframe and true enough it was his dad. The older dog’s fur on his head was messier than usual. Benny just stared in awe at his now 7 foot tall father. Questions ran through his head but before he could speak, two thick hands grabbed him from under the armpits and pulled him into the tightest bear hug he ever had. His snout was buried deep in the cleavage of his father’s pectorals. “Son! So good to see you. Look how big you are now,” Big B said. The older dog was swinging his son’s body left and right excitedly without realizing that his son was beating on his chest with all his might, trying to get his attention. It was when benny’s foot accidentally rubbed against his dad’s dick that Big B looked down between his pecs and realized his son wanted to be put down. Benny gasped and coughed. The scent of his dad’s musky and sweaty fur was stuck on his nose. “D-d-dad. What the fuck?” Big B chuckled. “You like it son?” the older dog raised his right arm and flexed, the thick arm bulged up to the size of a bowling ball. “Daddy’s been working out!” he said before bringing his arm close to his snout and licked it. Benny was unsure of what to say, but he had to get his suddenly sexy dad inside. “Dad No! The neighbors will see,” the younger dog pushed his dad on the stomach but the larger dog did not budge. “Pssh, it ain’t something they haven’t seen. Heck Bob next door saw me naked yesterday. I’m sure he enjoyed it,” Big B replied. “DAD!” The humongous dog then started backed away inside just to satisfy his embarrassed son. Benny thought things would be better inside but he was wrong. The entire living room was empty of all other furniture except for the old couch which looked like it was on its last legs-literally. Bottles of protein powder and unknown supplements littered the corner to the left of the door. A lifting bench with barbells and several dumbbells took up most of the living room space. Gone were the family photos and the flat screen TV. Benny noted what looked like wet stains on the ceiling, there were more all over the floor. His nose twitched and he nearly recoiled upon realizing what the stains were-his dad’s cumshots. “What did you do to this place dad?” Benny asked, concerned. “Just moved some things here and there, the TV is in your room now and the pictures are well anywhere that isn’t my gym,” Big B said. The hulking dog walked over to the sofa and dropped his heavy frame on it. The poor sofa creaked and bended itself to support the dog’s weight. “I just can’t believe this. I go away for 2 semesters and-and you trash the house, and you turn into a muscle monster.” Benny started pacing while trying to avoid looking at his dad’s almost naked body. Big B scratched his bulge and replied, “Son relax. So your old man went to the gym and grew a bit. I thought you’d be proud of my gains. “ The two just looked at each other for a minute. Benny was still half dazed by what was going on and his dad didn’t seem to care. Even now when he was trying to have a serious conversation with his old man the Big B was bouncing his pecs with a cocky grin. “Dad…” Benny extended the word. “I need some rest. We’ll talk about all of this tomorrow.” Benny made his way upstairs. “Sure son,” Big B said with a hint of disappointment in his voice. Once inside his room, Benny dropped his backpack on the floor. His room was basically unchanged. His bed still faced perpendicular to the entrance with the TV now in front of the foot of his bed. To its right was his closet. The pup locked his room door and collapsed on his bed. He stared at the white ceiling wall and started thinking about his dad. The way he lifted him with such ease, the way his muscles smelt when he was pressed up against him. Covering his eyes with his right arm Benny unzipped his jeans to release his throbbing boner. Another trait he inherited from his father was a thick fat dick with huge swollen balls the size of golf balls. It paled in comparison to his father’s enlarged furhood now. All the questions were just a façade to hide his true feelings. He loved how his dad had grown so huge. He never told anyone before, but he was gay and his dad was now the fur of his dreams. Stroking his leaking cock, Benny imagined growing into his dad’s size as well. He imagined ripping through his clothes in public as his pecs balloon out and eventually blocking his view from the rest of the world. Benny moaned loudly. How he wanted his arms to expand and grow in strength so that he could lift an entire car with ease. Pre-cum continued to ooze from his dick, lubing the entire shaft. Then he would outgrow his dad and be able to pin him to the ground. He would then shove his giant dick between his dad’s hefty pecs and pec fuck him till he came. The last thought sent Benny over the edge causing him to blow his load all over his shirt and snout. “Fucking dad…” Benny whispered to himself. Stripping his shirt off, Benny sneaked out of his room not wanting to be seen. The bathroom was right beneath his room but he would have to go through the living room to get to it. Benny tip toed slowly, his tail was erect just to avoid making a sound with it dragging on the floor. As he was walking pass the hallway to the stairs he saw his dad’s wide black furred back facing him. His dad turned to the side to face the sofa and Benny saw him hold a vial full of glowing neon blue liquid. Benny crouched down to get a better look. He wondered what was that his dad had. Then the older dog downed the entire concoction without letting a single drop spill. Big B started staggering backwards with his arms locked into a boxer’s pose. He started growling and his entire body shook. Benny could not believe what he was seeing his dad’s entire body began to swell. His already huge pecs extended out further. Benny gasped as he saw his dad’s shoulders stretch further to the sides, he was wide enough to take up three quarters of the sofa. His arms ballooned up to the size of Benny’s head. Deep veins began to snake around Big B’s arms and legs. The change in height then soon followed slowly but it was very noticeable that the older dog was growing several inches taller with each passing second. “Argh…Must Grow! Bigger!” Big B said followed by a deep growl. The growing dog’s bulge began to grow as his enlarging dick grew harder. Big B’s jockstrap was beginning to rip at the seams struggling to contain the thick pole growing to the size of a traffic cone. With a guttural roar his dad’s cock fired its load, splattering the sofa with white spunk and the torn remains of what used to be his jockstrap. He cummed for what felt like minutes, completely covering the sofa with a new coat of paint. Finally when his orgasm completed the muscle bound dog just stood there panting heavily. Benny was feeling a mix of emotions at what he saw, awe, fear, lust, and disgust all at the same time. The young pup walked slowly downstairs never taking his eyes off his gargantuan father. As he approached he saw another change, that his dad was losing back his gained height. “D-ad? Are you ok?” Benny asked. “Son?” Big B was surprised by his son’s presence. He looked at his shirtless child and walked closer to the frightened pup. Towering above the smaller dog, his cock sprang to life, slapping against his hard abs with a wet thud. “You saw something you shouldn’t have boy,” he said menacingly. Benny gulped and thought to himself, what did he get himself into this time?
  13. BaronGalloway

    The Scale

    Hey all, long (long long) time lurker and at the previous musclegrowth site. I've been coming out of my shell a bit and stretching my writing hand, and I wrote this short fan piece of sorts to inspire a muscle freak bent on growing larger. Not sure if he's on here, but he can be found on Twitter and Tumblr, and I'm sure you'll love watching him grow as much as I do. -------- “Alright, you know the deal,” he said, his deep voice echoing off the walls of the small bathroom. I simply nodded. My mouth was too dry to answer. I knew the deal. He took a few sauntering steps toward me, swinging his thick arms and shoulders, waddling a little because of his huge thighs. I couldn’t tell if he was putting on a show for me or if that was how large he had grown. Probably both. He stopped right in front of the scale. “You ready, little guy?” He asked, bouncing his pecs in my face. Again, I nodded. “Okay, here we go.” He stepped onto the scale, making it groan in protest of his huge body. I couldn’t stop staring at the massive muscle in front of me, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his mass. “Go on, little buddy, go take a look at that readout. You know I can’t see over these huge pecs.” He put his hand on my head, not even needing to push down. The weight of his muscles was enough to force me to my knees in front of him. I was eye level with his bulge now, his way-too-small briefs not hiding any of this throbbing cock. “Mmmm, yeah, just like that,” he said, running his hand through my hair. “Come on, tell me what you see.” I choked slightly, since the correct answer was a hard cock on a muscle-crazed stud. I glanced down at the scale readout. I turned my head to make sure I wasn’t mistakenly reading the numbers upside down, my eyes widening as I realized I had been correct. “You’re, uh…” I coughed, my mouth even drier now that I saw the hard numbers. “You’re 255 now.” “Oh fuck,” he said softly. “And what was the number we agreed on?” “250…” I stuttered. “Then I think I won this bet, little guy, and I think you’d better get to work.” His hand, which never left my head, pushed my face into his crotch. I did what came naturally and began kissing his thick meat through his briefs, tasting the salt of his pre that had soaked the fabric. He groaned deeply, finally getting the reward he deserved for the work he’d put into his growth. “Fuck yeah, this has been a long time coming. I worked hard to win this bet, and you’d better work hard, too.” He was making me lightheaded, talking that way and groaning as I worked his cock with my mouth. I was already dizzy from the sheer amount of mass he had managed to pack on, and I instinctively reached out for his gigantic thighs to steady myself. “That’s right, little guy, worship those huge muscles you helped me grow. Feel all that power, all that mass, but don’t get used to it; I’m not going to stop growing any time soon.” I began running my hands over those massive quads, trying to feel as much of them as I possibly could, but my little hands couldn’t get enough. I was way too aroused by this point and ready to fully worship this beast to the best of my abilities. I moved my hands up his thighs to the waistband of his briefs, slipped my fingers under it and began to pull down. In an instant, his giant paws were on my little hands. I looked up, confused. “No, not like that.” He said. I had to lean back to see his face over his bloated abs and slabs of pec meat. His bright red cheeks gave away his arousal. “Do you hear that?” I held as still as I could, but I couldn’t hear anything over my heavy breathing and beating heart. Hell, I could barely hear myself over his breathing and I swear I could hear the blood pulsing through his rigid dick. I looked back up at him, still confused. He chuckled. “Why don’t you give that scale another read.” He stepped off and back on, his mass once again causing the scale to creak. I looked down, not understanding what was happening. “What’s it say now?” He asked quietly, obviously excited to hear the results. I couldn’t believe my eyes. “Come on, little guy, don’t leave me hanging here.” “You’re…you’re 262 now.” I squeaked. He chuckled again. “Now listen closely.” He started rubbing himself through his briefs with one hand, the other groping at his pecs and playing with his nips. I sat still, completely in awe at the orgasmic display in front of me, and finally heard it. A slight creaking noise. A couple of them; one was the scale creaking, a sound I was used to hearing, and the other was his tight briefs. “Aww, fuck yeah, look what all your worshipping’s doing to me, little guy,” he groaned. “You’re not even touching me and I can feel these muscles swelling up with your admiration.” I stared, mouth agape, as his dick gave a massive lurch and finally put his briefs out of their misery, snapping them off and sending them flying across the bathroom. “There we go, that’s what I was waiting for.” He said, letting go of his dick and pecs and returning his hands to his sides, arms now sticking out thanks to his lats fighting them for space. I could easily see the new mass on his frame as he stood there, heaving with each breath. “Are you going to just sit there, little guy? Am I big enough now,” he grabbed his exposed dick, rock hard and red with testosterone-filled blood. “Or do you want to make me even bigger?” I was on him in a flash, taking his cock in my mouth, running my hands over his massive thighs, abs, and ass, doing everything I could to turn him on and make him grow. “Fuuuck, you really want me to get huge, don’t you?” He put his hand back in its rightful place on my head, letting it rest there while his other hand played with his muscles. I sucked on him like my life depended on it, moving back and forth and trying to take more of him down my throat each time. His cocky façade was faltering as his breathing and groaning grew more ragged and desperate. The growth was continuing in earnest, and I could feel his muscles growing under my hands. “Look at this,” he said, pulling me off his dick briefly. He held my head firmly as he bent over and flexed his bicep in my face. It was massive. Veins ran over it, frenzied and engorged, feeding the muscles. His skin was tight and red, covered in a sheen of sweat. But, most importantly, I could see it swelling up before my eyes. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I needed to try a little test. I put one hand on his arm, more of a request to keep it in place as he could easily overpower me, and used my other hand to reach for his spit-slicked dick. As I began jacking him off, I could feel and see the growth pulse through him renewed. His bicep swelled even faster under my touch, and I couldn’t help but lean in to kiss and lick its mass, feel the heat on my mouth and the frenzying veins pulsing just under his skin. He groaned deeply, almost losing his balance under my worshipping touches. “Goddamn, little guy, you really want me to be massive.” He put his hands under my arms and lifted me up, pressing my face in between his pecs. I licked the deep valley there, savoring the hot slabs of muscle pressing into either side of my face. One of my hands stayed on his cock while I moved the other up to pinch and stroke a fat nipple. His pec cleavage was growing deeper and the pressure on my cheeks was growing greater as he continued to swell. I could hear his moans coming from deep within his chest, making my little body reverberate with his voice alone. “Hang on,” he said. He stepped off the scale again and stepped back on. The creaking this time was even louder. We both held totally still while the scale calculated his weight. I briefly saw not a number flash up, but ERR, before his huge mass cracked the scale and the digital display went blank. I looked up at him as his expression went from shock at the sound of the scale dying under his mass to a smirk. “I guess all we know now is that I’m over 350.” He reached out to me and forcefully turned me around to face the mirror. I could plainly see his mass around my small body. His shoulders and pecs rose above my head, his obliques and even the edges of his bloated abs visible around me. He stepped up until he was pressing into my back and pushing me into the counter. “Well, we know that,” he said quietly, putting his arms on the edge of the counter on either side of me, trapping me in between it and his massive frame. “And that I still want more. And that you want me to have more.” He began grinding his steel-hard dick into my back, before moving his way down and positioning himself to plow me. I shuddered and groaned at the sheer girth of him, already so much and he hadn’t even entered me. His searing hot muscles were pressing into me, still pulsing larger. I couldn’t even come close to escaping, not that I would ever want to. This was as much of my fantasy as it was his. “And we both know that you’re going to help me go from the freak I am to the god I deserve to be.” And with that, he plunged into me, his growth restarting with renewed vigor. We watched as his thrusting body swelled from that of a mere freakish mortal to that of the god he craved to be.
  14. hotmuscle101

    Blue Pill Part 20

    Sorry for the wait, in case you need a refresher here is Blue Pill Part 19 And without further ado I give to you Blue Pill Part 20 Although she had just fed, Sarah was hungrier than she had ever been before. The smell that hit her as soon as she opened the door to the gym was intoxicating, like pure male essence. It was the aroma of sweat and testosterone that caused her newly formed dick to harden down the leg of her short running shorts. The head of her dick just barely held within the confines of her shorts. She began to sniff the air, walking down the hallway, following the smell to where it was the strongest. This led Sarah to a heavy steel door, which she quickly pushed open to reveal an even more intense cloud of the stench that led here there from the hallway. It was so thick it was almost as if you could swim in it. Sarah felt something wet drip onto her foot and as she looked down to inspect where it came from, she saw another drop forming at the edge of her boxers. The smell had her so turned on that she was hornier than she ever remembered being before. Sarah was surprised to find the locker room was practically empty, minus the few gym bags sitting outside of their lockers. She walked up to one of the gym bags that was setting open atop the bench. She looked in and found a used jock sitting on top. Sarah reached into the gym bag and pulled out the jock. It was still warm and sweaty from the previous wearer, as if it had just been discarded. She brought the jock up to her nose, smelling the amazing aroma of sweat and testosterone with a hint of cum. Sarah stuck the jock in her mouth sucking on the sweat and cum. As she was sucking she felt a surge of strength run through her body and felt her dick pulse in her running shorts. She looked down to see that the head of her dick was now just barely peeking out of the edge of her shorts. As she was looking down at her dick, she noticed that her entire body looked pumped. She ran her hand along the shaft of her penis, earning her a glob of pre-cum once she reached the head. Hormones were racing through her brain telling her she needed to get off and soon. Sarah heard the sound of a shower turning on through the doorway at the end of the row of lockers. She headed towards the doorway with a hunger in her eyes and a raging hardon in her shorts. " Time to feed" she growled to herself... When Riley had first arrived to the gym, his gut was full and swollen with Derek's cum. He knew he needed to do something to get the size of his beach ball belly to go down and after reading the note that was left for Derek about how it would be beneficial for him to work out, he decided the best place for that would be Frank's Gym. It was always filled with meatheads and hardcore weights. Riley was in his jock and a pair of sweats he had found in the school locker room and He was wearing a t-shirt that said 'Fletcher Valley Athletic Department'. It was a little loose on him, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be that way for long. He looked out across the gym floor and found a handful of guys lifting. They ranged in size from amateur bodybuilder to Olympia sized. The biggest being Damien, he was easily a 300-pound wall of shredded beef, ready to dominate his next bodybuilding competition. He was a 6-foot-tall wall of dark chocolate and he was walking straight towards Riley. Riley began to panic. He wondered if the behemoth had seen him staring or if he was just overthinking. Jason's heart began racing faster and faster as each titanic footfall of the giant caused his meaty pecs to bounce. His massive Quads rolling over each other as they fought for space inside the weak confines of his gym shorts. Riley couldn't believe his eyes when they finally fell upon the obscene bulge in Damien's shorts. He had seen some decent sized packages in the school locker room. Chris's came to mind right away, but what was in front of him now had to be as big as Chris's cock was when it was hard, and it was completely soft. As Damien got right up next to me he leaned down to say something in my ear. His deep baritone filled my soul, as I had a hard time registering what he was saying. "Yeah, I saw you lookin. You're gonna need about another 100 pounds before you can handle what I got to give. Come find me when you do though, I'd love to fill your bowl with my cream." He stood back up to his full height and I watched his face as a huge toothy grin formed on his face as he gave me a wink. He reached down to adjust his package which Jason swore was bigger than just a moment ago. As Damien walked past Riley, He turned to watch Damien as he stared directly at Riley's ass. He seductively licked his lips as he headed into the gym locker room. To say that Riley felt on fire would be an understatement, he felt like hormones were flooding his entire being. Not only that, but his cock was rock hard. He knew he needed to focus. If what the note said was true, he needed to start lifting so he could absorb all the muscle cum that was in his belly. Riley decided to start with arms, so he headed over to a long row of dumbbells in front of a large gym mirror. He grabbed the 25's to start as a warm up and headed over to the isolation bench. As he was walking over to the bench Riley watched his arms in the mirror as the sinewy muscle lightly flexed to support the weight in his hands. He flexed his arm straight down causing a slight bulge to appear on the back of his arm from his triceps. Riley sat at the isolation bench and began doing curls. At first the weight was a little heavy, but began to get easier to lift as he did more reps. Once he had 25 reps done he switched to his other arm and began lifting again. Riley watched as veins began to surface on his arm and his goose egg of a bicep began expanding, just a little bit more with each rep. With his biceps now feeling warmed up, he brought the weight behind his head and began one armed triceps-extensions. He really had to push at the beginning to get the weight up, but as he continued it got easier and easier with each rep. Riley did 25 with each arm and stood up to take the weights back. This time as he passed himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but gawk at his reflection. His arms were pumped just from his warm-up. Riley started the work out with 15-inch arms, but they were looking much closer to the 15-inch range and this time when he flexed his arm straight down, he was rewarded with an actual horse-shoe bulge on the back of his arm. The boner that had started to go down during his lifts sprang back to life as he admired his pump in the mirror. "Fuck yeah! I'm getting pumped" Riley growled to himself in the mirror. "So fucking hot!" Riley put the weights back and walked further down the row of weights, this time picking up the 50's. Riley had never done anything heavier for isolation curls than 35. He could feel the heaviness of the weight in his hands as he headed back to the bench. Riley sat down and began pumping out rep after rep. As the weight got lighter with each rep, his arm began to bulge with some serious muscle. Veins that had appeared during his warm-up were now thickening and branching out all across his swollen bicep. The hard knot on his arm was now about the size of a baseball. Riley then continued the same process with his other arm. During this entire process Riley's raging hard on had begun leaking copious amounts of pre-cum into his jock. Knowing that he was going to have some difficulty doing single arm triceps extensions with 50 pounds, He decided to do just a regular triceps extension using both arms and the 50-pound dumbbell. It was a struggle at first, but just like with his biceps it got easier with every rep he did. Riley lost track of how many extensions he did until he realized that the weight he was using felt as light as the 25 pounders. Riley stood up to take the weight back. This time what he saw in the mirror was a complete and total surprise, the arms that he now possessed were at least 16 inches and wrapped in veins. He couldn't believe how big he was getting. The thought caused his cock to flex in his sweats, which brought his attention to a wet spot that had begun to form where the head of his dick was. Riley reached down and ran his hand along his shaft, as he flexed his cock in his hand. He continued flexing his cock in his hand, as he brought his other arm up into a flex as well. This caused his cock to react by surging in his hand, the head of his cock was now poking out of his jock and shot a wad of precum on the inside of his sweat pants. More turned on then he ever remembered being in his life, Riley headed over to the bench press and loaded the bar with weight for a warm-up. He laid under the bar and brought the weight down to graze his nipples. He then pushed the weight back up. Riley cranked out rep after rep as he began to get a pump from his warm up. Riley began losing sight of his erect nipples as his pecs began inflating with blood. Riley decided it was time to put some serious weight on the bar. He got up and loaded the bar with 300 pounds and got back under the bar. The most Riley had ever benched before this was 150 and that was a struggle. Riley felt confident this time as he lifted the bar, he slowly brought the bar down, feeling the muscle fibers in his pecs stretch and scream in pain as they were forced to lift twice as much as they ever had before. The weight finally reached his pecs and he pushed with all his might to get the weight back up. Once it was back at the top, he brought the weight back down, this time not as much resistance from his pecs. Every time Riley brought the weight down he didn't have to go as far as his pecs swelled thicker with each rep. After what felt like an eternity, Riley finally re-racked the weight and sat up on the bench. Right away Riley could tell a huge difference in his pecs, the weight of his bulbous man breasts pulled heavily on the fabric of his shirt. Riley stood to look at himself in the mirror. "OH SHIT" Riley couldn't believe how big his pecs had become. "I might have done too many bench presses." Riley realized, too late of course, that his pecs were out of proportion with the rest of his body. They almost looked like breasts if it weren't for his slight pouch of a belly he had left. Riley ran his hand up along the curve of his bulbous pec muscle and moaned out loud on the gym floor as his hand rubbed across his pert nipple. A couple of the muscle heads turned to catch a glimpse of Riley and his increasing wet spot in his sweat pants. Realizing that he needed to balance out his body, Riley headed over to the squat rack last. One of the big meat heads must have been using it last, because they didn't take their weights off the bar. The bar was loaded with 500 pounds. Riley was feeling stronger than he ever felt and his rock-hard cock told him that he could lift that fucking weight. Riley braced himself underneath the bar and went to lift the weight up when the big muscle head that had been lifting there headed over to stop Riley. "Hey bro, that weight is way too heavy for your chicken legs, how about we start you off with something a little lighter?" "I'm going to crush this weight!" Riley growled with a fire in his eyes. "Well then, I'm at least going to spot you, I would hate for you to crush yourself under my watch. Names Ben by the way, I'm the manager of Frank's gym." "Enough talk Ben, let's lift some fucking weight." Riley lifted the bar up before Ben was positioned behind him. Riley could feel Ben's hard biceps against the back of his newly minted triceps. The breath on the back of his neck made him even hornier if that was even possible. "FUUUUCCCCKKKKK" Riley moaned/yelled as he squatted down with the weight, he could feel Ben's crotch against his ass as he pushed back in the bottom of the lift, then Riley began pushing the unbelievably heavy weight back up. At the top of the lift, Riley could feel Ben's biceps tense against his triceps as he was trying to get Riley to re-rack the weight. "Great job man, I..." "Did I say I was done yet?!?" As Riley squatted down again, with Ben following him down. The legs of Riley's sweatpants were becoming increasingly tight around his ever-enlarging thighs and he could feel his ass pushing back more into Ben's crotch. Riley flexed his ass at the bottom of the squat. This elicited a moan out of his spotter as he could feel Ben's dick hardening against his rock-hard ass cheeks. Once at the top of the lift, Riley started another squat. Riley could feel the power in his legs increasing as they blew up in size. He could feel his sweat pants becoming too tight against his straining cock and his ballooning ass. Before he could stop himself from humiliation, he heard the ass of his sweats give out with a loud rip. He could feel cool air hit his hole as it was exposed between the straps of his jock. Ben felt the head of his cock through his gym shorts push past Riley's rock-hard ass cheeks to his exposed hole. Riley felt Ben's cockhead through his shorts as it pushed against his hole. Riley decided to hold the weight there for a little longer. Ben rubber the head of his cock against Riley's hole. Riley's legs strained to hold the weight, but they grew larger by the second during the strain, making it easier the longer he held it. "Fuck man, I can't. You have got a really hot ass and I have never had these feelings for another guy before. I'm straight man I'm sorry." Ben pulled his cock head back from Riley's ass and stepped back. Riley stood back up with the weight and re-racked it. Riley turned around to face Ben. He stood almost eye to eye with Ben. Ben had the most beautiful hazel eyes and short military cut hair. His face was chiseled and manly looking. He had to be about 260 pounds. He was a big boy. Riley looked down and realized that’s not all that was big on Ben. His arms and pecs were massive, but what really pulled Riley's attention is what was poking at his hole just moments ago. Riley reached down and wrapped his hand around it, massaging the head. Ben moaned loudly as he closed his eyes and rolled his head back. Riley leaned his body in against Ben's, "Wh..what are you doing?" Ben stuttered as Riley leaned up and kissed him on the mouth. Ben moaned into Riley's mouth as Riley felt Ben's cock swell in his hand as it anticipated releasing its load. Riley stepped away from Ben before he could cum. Ben's eyes were still closed in a moment of bliss."FUCK! That was so fucking hot! Why did you stop?" "You're straight remember." Riley replied with a devilish grin." Besides, I'm done with my workout. Thanks for the spot Ben. Hopefully we can lift together again." Riley gave Ben a wink as he headed for the lockers, holding the ass of his sweats together as best he could. "HEY, WAIT! I never got your name!" Ben shouted after Riley. "If you want my name you'll have to see me again to get it." Riley headed into the locker room and began taking off all his clothes. He admired the way he struggled to get his shirt up over his massive pecs. Riley moaned as the hem of the shirt snagged on his nipples. Riley removed the remains of his sweats to reveal a raging hard on he wasn't expecting. It was about a half inch bigger than he was used to and quite a bit thicker. "Well this isn't covering anything anymore." Riley said as he removed his jockstrap and set it on top of his gym bag. Riley couldn't believe how big he had gotten. He must weigh at least 190 now. He heard the locker room door open on the other side of his lockers. Riley thought it might be Ben, so he wanted to make Ben work for it a little bit, so he turned and quietly slipped into the sauna before he came around the lockers. "God I can't wait to make love to the beautiful man!"
  15. losewin22

    Nailed It (Justin Bieber x Zac Efron)

    Back in 2012, Justin Bieber decided to start to go to a gym in LA, he wanted to workout and to be muscular, his boyish appeal wasn't supposed to work for him anymore, he need to be masculine to be a star He found Zac Efron in the same gym, Zac is generally a pretty nice guy, but when he found the skinny kid trying to lift small weights he couldn't help but make fun of it Z: "-Look at it, the boy can't lift even two pounds" J: "-I'm just starting" Z: "When I started I lifted more than that, I'm pretty sure" Efron harrassment keeps going on and on, untill some day that Bieber didn't show up anymore... Then some years later, in 2017, Efron was working out his chest in bench press, when his exercise was over, a guy show up and just put more ten pounds in the bar It was Justin... Bieber didn't want to humiliate Zac with words, he wanted the situation to speak for itself, he wanted to say "look I can lift more than you do now" Zac keeps looking in hope that something would went wrong, but it didn't happened Bieber lifted the weights with such ease, he didn't moaned as much as Zac At this point Efron still had the best biceps, but anyone could notice Bieber's abs, chest and ass gave Zac a run for his money. Even at the biceps department.. Efron starts to get threatened Efron pretended that he never bullied Bieber, if he didn't mention it, it didn't happened, anyway he could say he was just trying to motivate him Constantly and daily Bieber looked at Efron with death stares that make him tremble his legs Bieber didn't was physically imponent or intimidating, but was enough for Zac to don't want trouble with him, not to say he was used to train fight and wrestling, something that Zac wasn't used to do But they remain friendly to each other Constantly comparing their muscles, Zac run from strength challenges (like arm wrestling), but muscle size is still arguable at this point Bieber was trying to lay the groundwork for a wrestling match / MMA combat Something is pretty clear, Zac wouldn’t fight in front of everyone but for sure would fight “hidden”, this kid Bieber is a douchebag and he needs a lesson, everyone knows that, and he wouldn’t waste the chance to beat the shit out of him Bieber thought that him would make that challenge, but Efron did it first, invitating him to a match at his house Bieber appear at Efron’s home, ready to fight, and tried to make an agreement over the results, he wants sex after the fight, and the loser will bottom, Zac gets angry, he thinks “why is he trying to do this?”, but suddenly he realizes Bieber wants to disconcert him and accept the challenge Before the fight, they played mercy, Zac is confident, he puts a lot of his strength as he bends Bieber with ease, then Bieber get on his knees and Efron is about to win… but Efron suddenly stops, he don’t know what is going on but Bieber’s arms turns unbendable. Bieber was just toying, playing with his expectations: “if the guy is so easy, I don’t need to put too much effort”. But Zac didn’t know he needed to put all of himself into it, so when Bieber take control, it was very hard for Zac to recover In a smart and fast move Bieber choke Efron into his armpits J: yeah suck my nasty, sweaty pits, this is your place Efron is in despair but suddenly he starts to choke Bieber’s neck with his legs, Bieber have no choice but release his face Now Zac is in control, it’s hard to escape a leg hold and Zac just enjoy… Zac starts to move around with Bieber trapped on his legs, moving Bieber around, move him for the left, them move him for the right Then Bieber gets on his knees, still trapped, but he have a way out He holds Efron’s legs with his arms and start to push Efron to the wall, drag Efron by the ground, Efron releases him and now it’s time for a fast move Bieber choke Efron on his pits again, but now he does it violently, pressing Zac’s face against the ground just to take off his breathe Then he starts to get up, with Efron trapped on his arms, he basically pull Zac’s off by the neck, and starts to walk, Zac is with his legs bent, crawling, he can’t escape Bieber orders J: Lick my pits, now I’m talking seriously Efron moans Bieber chokes hard and screams LICK IT! Efron lick the pits, Bieber just hold a little because Efron couldn’t stop licking, Bieber let it happen because he wanted to enjoy the taste to be in control Bieber releases Efron who got off with a hard moan, falling on his knees Bieber go to the scoreboard: 1X0 Zac is pissed off, but he don’t let himself to be defeated, all the situation just fuels his anger 2nd round starts Zac just hold Bieber in another strength competition, now he’s more ready, he won’t let Bieber fool him, playing mercy again, now there’s nothing that Bieber can do, he’s giving it all but Zac still bend him, put Bieber on the ground Suddenly Zac pulls Bieber by the legs, thrown the legs, sit on Bieber’s chest, kneeling on the ground, puts Bieber’s arms ander his legs and start to torture him, pinching and twitching his nipples, then punching his chest and finally pulling Bieber by his hair to rub Bieber’s face on his dick Still in control Zac flex his muscles over Bieber, but decided to still have some fun He pull Bieber’s face, again, and rub on his dick, and keep rubbing and rubbing while Bieber moans, pull with one hand while flex the other arm, laugh When he’s about to release Bieber he just get his balls and press it hard, don’t underestimate Zac ballbusting powers, Bieber about to cry starts to fight Efron’s hand, but of course Zac fights back and keeps destroying his balls, then Zac squeeze and punch Bieber’s chest, repeatedly When Bieber looks over Efron lift him, and give him a bearhug, make Bieber feel like his back would be crushed, and squeeze, squeeze him so hard, Bieber thinks “at some point he will get tired, I’m not that light to carry” but Zac never get tired and the situation comes to unbearable Bieber taps, it’s over, Efron won that round, Efron is dangerous, Bieber learned that he’s a destroying machine when he’s angry, and he can do everything to win “if Efron cheats I’m going to cheat to take the upper hand too” 1X1 3rd round starts, they hold each other and start to push, very hard, Bieber used this as a distraction and kick Efron in the balls suddenly putting Efron on the ground, he just starts to beat Efron over him Bieber uses his armpits (again) to suffocate, he choke Efron a little bit then lift him, holding him by the legs and neck, put Efron upside his shoulders and start a torture rack Bieber stretch Efron out, that screams loudly when Bieber looks into a mirror to proudly look at the monster he took control, he notes Efron is with an indecent boner popping out of his singlet... Bieber quickly thinks “I will take advantage of this” J: Its 2X1 for me now, isn’t it? Bieber says with Efron on his shoulders He goes to the scoreboard and change the score J: I didn’t finished it yet Bieber starts to move Zefron, puts him in a reverse inverted bearhug, hold him hard, Efron moans, Bieber starts to take him down, till Zac’s face get in front of his dick, puts Zac’s face inside the speedo J: Learn something man, you wanted to teach me a lesson and maybe I deserve one… but unfortunately it’s not one of your movies where the good guy wins, this is real life… maybe someone needs to teach me something.. but needs to be someone better than you.. now you know what you have to do Upside down, Efron starts to suck Bieber’s dick, he’s upside down, with a boner so embarrassing on his own speedo and of course Bieber took advantage of this also While Zac sucks him, Bieber starts to masturbate Zac, he does it so softly, and found amusing to see Efron’s body spasms everytime he stops Bieber make Zac jizz all over his speedo, right after Bieber jizz on Zac’s face, lift Zac’s up and thrown him on the ground Zac is destroyed, with his face full of Bieber’s cum, his speedo full of his own cum, he could fight back but is afraid to get another beatdown, it’s embarrassing to see an almost 30 years old man submitting so shamefully to a 22 years old boy but he did it anyway Bieber pulls Efron by the hair and make Efron kiss every block of his abs, so Efron give Bieber 8 kisses on his belly, while Bieber pull him over J: Remember what we agreed to Z: You don’t get tired to abuse me like this? J: no I don’t, now get in position Zac gets in position to be fucked in the ass like a bitch, he’s too humiliated to fight back and too humiliated to don’t be humiliated a little bit more
  16. LinkX

    If the Shoe Fits.

    Pardon the tags... what I've written so far is mostly set up at the moment. I'd like to get some constructive feedback before I continue. Please refrain from calling out my punctuation mistakes. Otherwise let me know if I should continue. I understand that so far this plot has been done like a million different times...but honestly nowadays what plot hasn't? Hopefully you can find something unique to my story. Please let me know what you think. Also apologies for the chapters being so short...it looks longer on Microsoft. Chapter 1 I pulled into my driveway and pushed the clicker on my garage opener. As the door slowly slid open I couldn’t help but crack a smile. Suddenly a rough day at work didn’t seem so terrible. My boyfriend of eight years was finally home after a two month work assignment back east. After shutting down the car and grabbing my gym bag I opened the door to my house… and the lights were off. Of course. I could hear the sounds of battle coming from upstairs. I don’t know why I expected him to be waiting for me by the door when I got home… he’s an avid player of this sword and magic computer game he plays with his friends, and the game released an expansion three days before he got home. Of course he didn’t have his gaming computer with him so he had to wait… which I know drove him nuts. I set my bag down by the washing machine and trudged up the stairs to our bedroom. I guided myself by the light blue light coming from my partner’s computer screen in the bedroom. I entered the room quietly. His back was to me and he had his headset on. He was frantically pushing buttons and shouting commands into his mic. “Stack! Stack! Over here…. Ok fast rez this pug over here… never mind we’ll get him later. Drop your A O E and push!” I still can’t translate all his gamer jargon. I waited a couple minutes while he finished his fight. Before he could find a new bad guy to go destroy I turned the lights on. Startled, he quickly turned to face me. His face lit up. Then he turned back to his screen. “Sorry guys, I have to go, Frizzle can you command? Thanks, see ya.” He shut down his game, tossed his headset down, and then proceeded to jump right into my arms. “Oh my god, I missed you so much… my family is terrible!” he exclaimed between kisses. “I missed you too babe,” I replied. “Looks like you managed to find some shopping at least.” He pulled back from our embrace and gave me his goofy smile. God I loved him so much. I set him down so he could parade what he got. “Yeah… so you won’t believe this,” he said excitedly. “I went to this specialty big and tall store and found these!” He pointed to his feet. He was wearing an enormous pair of sneakers. They were at least a few sizes larger than my own size 15 shoes. “check ‘em out… size 20! I never thought I’d find a store that carried them!” I laughed. “You could always try Amazon you know.” Still smiling, he quickly shot me that not-amused look that I knew all too well. “You can’t see them in real life on Amazon before you buy them,” he said pointedly. “You know I like to shop for shoes.” Still laughing I shot back “yeah, well you have no problem special ordering other clothes online.” He reached up and lightly tapped me on the chest. “That’s different… Speaking of which, I got a package today that had this in it,” he said, pointing to the oversized muscle-tank he looked like he was practically drowning in. “Oh, and these.” He lifted up his shirt revealing a pair of workout shorts that looked like pants on him, and untied the waist. The large shorts fell to the floor revealing a jockstrap with a gigantic pouch. The straps hung loosely around his legs and the waist was tied to hold it on his body. He was excited, in more than one way, but of course his thin 5.5 inch cock didn’t fill the giant pouch he had literally tied around his waist. He looked back up at me grinning ear to ear. At that moment he reminded me of a puppy that knew he had done well and was waiting for a treat. “Damn dude!” I told him, playing to his fantasy. “You’re gonna be huge when you grow into those!” “Damn right!” he shot back, smiling. I knew full well there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d ever fit those clothes. I’ve heard of people gaining an extra inch or two of height in their early to mid-twenties… but at 30 years old, even if by some miracle he had a growth spurt, there was no way my 5’4”, 130 lb stud with a size 8 shoe would fill this outfit out. Still, I entertained his fantasy because I love him. As long as I’ve known him he’s been fascinated with everything big. Big height, big muscle, big cock. That’s his motto. That’s why he fell for me so quickly. At 6’5” I’m a tall drink of water, and I’m pretty proud of my bodybuilder physique (it’s so much tougher for us tall guys). With those two traits when he first saw me he went weak in the knees... but when I got him home and he got his eyes on my thick 8.5” piece of meat deal was done. He decided right then and there he was gonna keep me. I must have zoned out just thinking about how I met my man, and how much I loved him and all his quirks all these years later. Because next thing I knew he was waving at me: “Hey…hey… earth to Aaron. Are you going to stand there and stare at me all evening? I love you, but I haven’t had sex in two months. I need your ass.” As was typical when he was wearing his bigger clothes he was the top that night. Chapter 2 He really was a horny little bastard. He shot 4 loads before pulling out, and then still got a fifth off all over my face before collapsing next to me. He leaned over to the nightstand and handed me a rag. “That’s gonna feel so much better when I’m bigger,” he said nonchalantly--still coming down off his orgasm. “I’m gonna open you up like you do me…and it’s going to be awesome when I go to the gym. I’ll walk around the locker room naked with my dick swinging back and forth and everyone will want it. I’ll be buff with pecs like yours and people will ask to feel my arms too. It’ll be awesome to have you be the little spoon for once.” “I can be your little spoon now,” I reassured him. He laughed. “Haha…yeah…but no. I mean I like holding you… but I can’t sleep like that, you’re too wide I can’t reach all the way around you like I’d like to yet. I want to be able to hold you like you hold me.” “But when you’re big, how am I going to keep the other guys off you? Who’s to say that you won’t find a guy that likes your size as much as you like mine? You might not want to keep me then” I teased. He sat up and looked me in the eye: “Aaron, you’re like a shoe that fits me perfectly… I’ll never outgrow you.” He stated seriously. “A shoe? Seriously?” I scolded playfully. “Patrick… I love you but you’re a dork.” I rolled out of bed. “All right big guy, let’s shower and get to bed… you’ve got to be jetlagged.” Chapter 3 The next few weeks went by fairly routinely. That is until one Saturday morning while I was cooking breakfast Patrick shouted down from the bedroom, “Aaron, Aaron come quick!” I hurried up the stairs to see what was the matter. Patrick was absent mindedly stroking his cock with one hand while scrolling down a browser with the other. “What’s up?” I asked. “You’ve got to read this” was his reply. I began scanning the screen. It was the results of a two year research study investigating a compound that was supposed to interact with the endocrine system, inducing height and muscular changes. “This is it… I’m finally going to get big!” Patrick exclaimed. “Wait…what?” I stuttered, trying to run through the page before he got too far ahead of me. “I finally found what I need to get big like you! I told you! I told you I’m gonna get huge like you!” I finished reading the synopsis. “Hold on a sec, guy… this says the study was discontinued early because the compound didn’t have an effect on enough participants. It’s been 3 years. Even then the best case scenario is an “increase of 1-3 inches in height as well as increased musculature, penis size and rigidity”. I quoted. “Honey, you can’t get more rigid… and is 1-3 inches worth any risk?” “Like you said, it’s been 3 years, I’m sure they’ve done more research,” he countered quickly, “and yes…1-3” would be worth it.” He gazed into my eyes with such sincerity and need that I quickly gave in. “If you think it’s what you need to do I’m with you 110%... remember though its 4 injections over the course of a year, so it’s not like you can change your mind.” I said. “I’ll think about it… but I won’t change my mind. I promise.” Chapter 4 Over the next several days I became concerned. Each night when I got home from work Patrick would be upstairs on his computer. Though instead of the usual video game chatter. I’d arrive to silence. I’d wander upstairs, and Patrick would be sprawled out by his desk, head phones in, scrawling through page after page of research. He sit there in his size 20 sneakers and oversized jock, every once in a while moving enough to make a bookmark, and every few hours I’d make him stop and walk downstairs to either eat or get some water. Or anything really…just something to let me know he was still alive. One night I was sitting downstairs watching the latest episode of Gotham when he came downstairs and sat beside me. He snuggled up next to me and after a few minutes simply said “I’m ready.” Patrick managed to book an initial intake appointment a few weeks later. He was nervous, and asked that I go with him. We drove from the suburbs to the address provided, which turned out to be an historic tire warehouse building that had been converted into a laboratory. The outside didn’t look too impressive. Just faded signs painted on the walls probably 80 years ago, a Starbucks on the ground floor, and two purposefully rusty-looking doors with a buzzer and keypad to the right of them. I pressed the buzzer and a voice quickly answered, asking Patrick to confirm his appointment. He did and the door clicked allowing us entry. The interior of the building was markedly different from the outside. It was very brightly lit. Very sterile looking. At the center of the room was a large white circular desk. A young twinkish man who looked like he was maybe a freshman in college sat at the desk. As we approached the desk he checked us both out. Very obviously. He smirked at Patrick, then glanced me over and then fumbled with some paperwork on his desk as we got near. “Hello,” he said. “You must be Patrick. Thank you for coming. Dr. Stevens will be with you shortly.” He turned to me. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name, and I don’t see another appointment at this time.” “Oh no, I’m just here with him,” I replied. The twink gave us a knowing look. “Oh ok, that’s cool. Make yourself comfortable. We have a few chairs and some reading material. Do you need anything to drink?” “Not at the moment. Thank you,” I responded. Patrick finished his questionnaire and we sat down. A few minutes later I saw a man with a clipboard walk down the stairs. He was about 6’2”, with a nice athletic build and short, jet black hair. He was wearing a blue button down shirt and black denim jeans. “Howdy… Patrick?” he asked. Patrick looked up from the fitness magazine he had started to read. Introductions were made and the doctor invited us upstairs. Chapter 5 Dr. Stevens’s office was fairly nondescript. It consisted of a large oak desk, a couple chairs, a computer, a lamp, and a large bookcase full of books and knickknacks. In the center of the bookcase was an urn, next to the urn sat a tiny little barbell and a photo of a child in a wheelchair. I couldn’t tell you the kid’s age. His head too large for his body, which seemed to have little to no musculature at all. He was short, though his hands looked large. Despite all this I couldn’t help but be entertained by the kid’s beaming smile. Whoever was taking the photo obviously meant the world to this young man and you couldn’t look at this photo without seeing it in his expression. “mgm-hmm,” Dr. Stevens coughed. We all took a seat around the desk. “My secretary says you’re quite persistant, Mr.” “Patrick,” my boyfriend chimed in, “and this is my partner Aaron.” “Nice to meet you both, so what can I help you with.” Patrick looked at me for reassurance. I gave him a nod, and he began grinning ear to ear and scooted to the edge of his seat. This seemed to make the doctor uncomfortable for a moment as he shifted in his chair and shot a glance to the urn on his bookshelf. “Sir, three years ago you lead a study on the effects of a certain compound on the endocrine system,” Patrick started. “That study ended early,” the doctor interrupted. “The compound was deemed ineffective on human systems.” Patrick’s grin faded. “Yes, but it wasn’t…” “Wasn’t what?” The doctor was obviously agitated. “If you’d done your research you would have realized that the compound you speak of was only effective in less than 1% of the sample. Even then the effects were insufficient for continued funding. I’m a busy man, do you have a reason for hounding my assistant for days to get an appointment or did you just want me to read the conclusion of my paper for you?” Feeling intimidated, Patrick slouched back into his chair momentarily before standing up and walking towards the door. He was doing his best to fight back tears. I stood to join him, my heart felt heavy looking at my lover’s dejected demeanor. I could see his hope…his dream… falling to pieces in front of me. “It wasn’t a failure,” I said softly while looking straight at Patrick. “You had results. Sure, they weren’t as much as hoped for… but they were results. My partner…my boyfriend…has taken time off work, and has driven over 50 miles for an hour of your time. Sure, it’s a long shot. But from where he’s standing it’s his best shot of attaining the one thing he’s wanted for as long as he could breathe. The entire reason we’re here-- the reason he’s blown up your secretary’s phone and email. Is because he wants… he needs… to explore this opportunity.” Patrick wiped a tear from his cheek, his eyes lit up. He had his fire back. “Sir,” he stated. “Aaron’s right. The study wasn’t a failure. Please give me a chance. Even if it’s a small chance” He looked the doctor squarely in the eye. He spoke with sincerity. With need. “Someday I’m going to be big… like you and Aaron. I know it. I just need help getting there. Please help me.” Dr. Stevens didn’t move. He didn’t say anything. He stared at Patrick as though he’d seen a ghost. Finally he began fiddling with a pen. Squeezing it until his knuckles turned white then releasing it, over and over. He stood up and walked over to the bookcase. Standing in front of the urn with his back to us he finally spoke: “You don’t just stop and start studies willy-nilly. That’s not how professional research works,” he began. “But?” Patrick said quietly. “But,” the doctor turned, “my research has never really stopped to be honest. No, I don’t have any current “subjects” or “trials”, but the scientist in me still looks for the answers I know are out there. I didn’t have enough subjects to truly test out the compound I developed, and funding dried up. My old company blamed faulty research, but it wasn’t. The formula is just very specific. It only affects a fraction of a fraction of the human population—and I have developed a hypothesis that that’s because it affects a specific hormonal genetic marker that only one in several million people have. I don’t have the resources I’d need to prove or disprove that any longer.” “What happens if you get the injection and you don’t have the marker,” I asked. “Nothing,” the doctor sighed. “If it doesn’t work, you may as well have been injected with saline.” “Do… do you still have access to your old formula?” Patrick asked carefully. The doctor looked at him skeptically. “I do.” “Then may I try it?” He continued quickly, “If it doesn’t work, we’ve lost nothing. If it does, we have everything to gain. I’ll sign whatever legal papers I need to absolve you of any liability. I’ll pay you. Please. What can I offer to get your help? I'll do anything.” The pleading look in his eyes spoke louder than words. The doctor sat back down and put his head between his hands. After a few moments he looked up. “I may very well lose my license over this, but I’ll do it. You remind me so much of my brother I’d be ashamed if I said no.” Patrick was so excited his legs gave out. As he sunk to his knees tears streamed down his face. I hurried over to hold him. I’d never seen him so excited. He was shaking. “Oh my god… oh my god,” he kept repeated. “It’s gonna happen! It’s finally gonna happen!” Dr. Stevens took some Kleenex out of his desk drawer. He then picked up the phone and told his assistant to clear his schedule for the evening. He took a couple and handed them to us. He gave us a few minutes for Patrick to collect himself before speaking again. “Ada…I mean Patrick. Now since I’ve agreed to assist you and provide you with the compound, we need to discuss terms. We are going to approach this scientifically. Before we administer the first injection, I need to have you sign some disclosure and consent forms. Also, I want to run a full blood work up on you. I’m certain you won’t be allergic to the formula, I’d just like to have a baseline for your hormone levels. Also, I’m going to need to run a complete physical—including height, weight, musculature, and sexual function. Once that’s complete I can administer the injection. If you react, you should begin to notice some changes within the next three to four days. I ask that you email me if you feel any changes. In the meantime, I will provide you with a diet and exercise plan that you must follow daily. We will schedule a follow up appointment one week from today. If you’re not reacting to the formula no need to come in. If you do have a reaction we will continue to the next phase. Keep in mind that once you receive the injection it’s irreversible.” Patrick looked at me once again for approval. I nodded. “I understand,” Patrick said. “How much do I owe you?” Dr. Stephens smiled. “We’re going to do this right. For this first visit there will be no payment. If you react to the formula, each week I will provide to you a stipend to cover the full cost of anything study related.” “I thought you didn’t have funding.” I said, stunned by his generous offer. “The one exception I’m making for this project is that this particular trial will be paid out of a very special trust fund, if it should be successful” the doctor replied, again glancing at the urn. “Thank you sir,” Patrick said. “Where do I sign?”
  17. Absman420

    story A DIFFERENT FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH

    Author's Note: here's another out of the archives -- this one from 2014 as well. A DIFFERENT FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH by Absman420 The texts began shortly before midnight, the buzz of his phone on the nightstand waking him, even in "sleep" mode. At first the old bodybuilder shrugged it off -- he had a fairly good idea who it was and what they wanted -- and they weren't ripe enough yet, anyway -- but when the dull banging began on the front door, he knew he could ignore it no longer. Dressed in only his flannel pajama bottoms -- cut off at the knee to expose his gigantic calves (he hadn't worn pants in over twenty-five years, he bragged) -- he walked down the carpeted stairs to the front door, his stark white hair almost glowing in the darkness. He was a large man. Even in the streams of moonlight coming through the curtains, it was easy to make out his imposing shape. He'd been a weight-lifter most of his life and carried a certain kind of thickness only sported by men who'd spent decades pounding iron -- and carried HIMSELF with the confidence of a man who'd had a superior body for decades. He'd be damned if he'd ruin that by getting old. When he suddenly turned on the outside light, the pounding abruptly stopped. "Who's there?" he growled at the door, even though he knew perfectly well who it was. "Daddy?" A weak, desperate sound. "Please. I can't stand it anymore. Please… they HURT!" The old bodybuilder opened the door, revealing the figure of a lean, young man bathed in the soft glow of the porch light. The boy was maybe 5'8"/ 5'9" about 160lbs, lean in a way that was characteristic of swimmers or long-distance runners, athletic but skinny. Somewhere in his early twenties, he probably shaved once a week, his tight, flawless skin making him look even younger. A tousle of ordinary brown hair that looked slept-on wrong topped a face that was less handsome than pretty. Sure, maybe someday it would mature into handsome, but right now it was the fresh-face of youth. Only his eyes had any fire, bright green and lively. He was dressed in sweat pants, flip flops and a tank top that exposed his lean arms -- he had an air of desperation about him. "Thank God," he said when the old bodybuilder opened the door. "I'm so sorry. I know you said to wait, but I can't stand it anymore! I can't stand it!" He collapsed on the old bodybuilder, hugging the old man's muscular torso, laying his head on the bodybuilder's massive pec. Sobbing, desperate. "I'm so sorry, Daddy! I tried to wait… but they HURT!" The old bodybuilder held the boy and stroked his head while he wept. Finally, he shut the front door and said, "It's okay, boy. The first time can be scary. C'mon inside and let's see what's going on." The boy allowed himself to be led to the living room. He babbled. "I mean, I've been horny as fuck, but I can't cum. I CAN'T CUM! It's driving me fucking crazy. I stroke and stroke… almost… almost… but it doesn't fucking happen. THEY HURT SO FUCKING MUCH!" "Lemme see," the old bodybuilder said, sitting on the hassock before the boy. "When was the last time you saw them?" the boy asked, hands on the waist of his sweatpants. "Three... four days ago? You complimented me on them…" The old bodybuilder smiled. "You have beautiful balls," he said. "Golden eggs!" "Well, they're a little bigger than that now," the boy said, lowering the sweats. Instead of his normal boxer shorts, the boy wore a runner's jock, the thin waist strap low on the pubis, barely atop the root of his cock. The pouch itself was stretched nearly to the point of giving way, stuffed full of the boy's swollen, avocado-sized balls. Between the pull of his nads and the squeeze of the pouch, the boy's cock was nearly hard, ready to bust its way out of the cotton fabric any second. "LOOK at them!" The old bodybuilder did look, and he couldn't help but lick his lips -- they were huge. "What's happening to me?" the boy asked. The old bodybuilder ignored him. "Beautiful," he mumbled, gently cupping the boy's sac in his hand, weighing it almost -- the boy gasped. "You sure you wanna cum? I think you could grow these a little more…" The boy may not've liked the idea, but his cock did -- it throbbed a bit in its cotton prison. "Aw, fuck no!" the boy moaned. "You don't understand. They ACHE… Please..." When the old bodybuilder rubbed the over-sized sac with his hand, the boy moaned loudly -- his cock got even harder, straining down the front of the pouch, the head clearly visible through the stretched fibers of the material. Holding the boy's balls in his hand, the old bodybuilder licked the material covering the boy's cock, soaking it in his spit. "Oh…. Daddy," the boy whimpered. "Please…" Guiding him by the hips, the old bodybuilder sat the boy on the hassock, sliding himself to his knees on the floor between the boy's legs. Slipping a couple of thick fingers beneath the band of the boy's jockstrap, the old bodybuilder released the boy's cock, but left his nads trapped in the pouch -- the elastic of the waistband slid up under the base of the boy's erection, tickling him. The boy's cock was significantly bigger than the last time the old bodybuilder had seen it, as well -- the boy probably hadn't realized it because his balls were so freakishly out of proportion. Their firmness and swollen fresh pinkness made them irresistible. The boy's cock stood nearly nine inches straight up, a tiny line of pre-cum stringing down to the root -- the old bodybuilder licked that up pretty quickly. Ambrosia. When he took the boy's cock in his mouth, just the flared head, he tasted another release of pre -- delicious, teasing. He played with the head for another few moments, hoping for more, then finally took the whole of the boy's cock in his mouth, burying his nose in the boy's neatly trimmed pubes. The boy grabbed either side of the hassock and leaned back, his abs catching the light from above them, highlighting his skinny-boy eight pack. His breath was already hitching, and the old bodybuilder wondered if the boy would even last ten minutes -- probably not. He'd clearly never gotten head before, not from the way he was reacting. The possibility of a virgin turned the old bodybuilder on even more and he set to work in earnest, bobbing his head up and down the boy's shaft squeaky smooth, making sure his thick white mustache tickled the boy, too -- the boy was a bubbling brook of pre-cum. The old bodybuilder would be sucking the flavor out of his white whiskers for days. Deftly, he pulled the jockstrap down and released the boy's smooth, swollen balls, cupping them in one hand until he'd pulled the strap completely off, then holding them reverently in both, stroking them and and gently pulling them down in counter-rhythm to his mouth. They were massive -- did he say avocados? Maybe he meant mangos… The boy was trying to find a balancing place between pain and pleasure -- he didn't know what to do with his hands, so he kept holding the hassock, although he'd felt an urge to pinch his own nipple. He didn't know why. The old bodybuilder rolled the boy's gigantic balls back and forth, then began running one hand up and down the back of them while the other cupped their base. He settled the moving hand at the top of the boy's sac, ran fingers up either side of the boy's taint, then began playing with the boy's tight hole, all the while sucking the boy's rock hard cock. The boy was panting now, thrusting his hips into the old bodybuilder's face. On the edge again, ready, so, so ready to blow his load. The old bodybuilder knew this and slipped his thick middle finger into the boy's hole, quickly finding the boy's prostate and pressing that button for all its worth. The boy released the sides of the hassock, grabbing the old bodybuilder's head and began to orgasm, pushing his cock deep into the old bodybuilder's throat. He didn't just moan -- he screamed. The old bodybuilder had tasted plenty of the boy's pre, but was surprised by the volume -- even HE didn't expect the boy to pack such a punch. Each of the boy's squirts nearly filled his mouth -- he had to time his swallows to match the boy's ejaculations. The boy came. And came. His orgasm lasted nearly two minutes, the most incredible, mind-blowing thing he'd ever felt. And the old bodybuilder swallowed it all, every drop, until his own belly was distended from the creamy ambrosia. But whether the old bodybuilder came or not, the boy didn't know -- he was so exhausted, he could barely focus. He passed out as his boy-cock still dribbled some remaining drops -- but don't worry, the old bodybuilder got those, too. When the boy finally awoke, the first thing he realized was that the sun was up -- it was morning. It must be hours later. He was lying in an unfamiliar bed. The next thing he realized was that his balls didn't ache anymore. Not at all. As a matter of fact, they felt totally normal. When he touched them, he found them more sensitive than they'd been -- but at least they were back to normal size. His cock, on the other hand, was definitely bigger than it had been. How about that -- the old bodybuilder had told him the truth… His rumination -- and masturbation -- was interrupted by the bedroom door opening. The boy pulled his hands away from his genitals, like he'd been caught doing something bad. "Good morning!" the bodybuilder in the doorway said, but it wasn't the man the boy remembered. The boy was sure the bodybuilder's hair had been stark white, with a matching white mustache -- but this man had hair that could only be described as "salt & pepper", even his mustache was mostly black. Something was different about his skin, too -- it was… tighter. It was the same guy, obviously the same guy, but he looked different. Younger. The boy didn't know why he'd described the guy as an old bodybuilder, when clearly, in the light of day, he was middle-aged -- maybe 45 on the out side. His eyes sparkled with mischief. "How do you feel?" he asked, his voice not quite as rough. "Really great, thank you." The boy smiled, softly rubbing his balls. "You weren't kidding about how powerful that would be. Wow." "Yeah?" the big man said, flexing his pecs. "You wanna go again?" The boy laughed, embarrassed. "I don't if I can go again right now…" he said, although his cock kind of liked the idea. The middle-aged bodybuilder chuckled. "No, I mean the peptides. Do you wanna do the injection again?" The boy realized what he meant, and self-consciously cupped his ball sac. "Will it… Will it feel like it did last night?" "Better if you let it… brew longer." The boy smiled -- he didn't even hesitate. "Let's do it." And that's how he found himself in the bodybuilder's kitchen, bent over the center island, as the middle-aged bodybuilder pulled a small vial from his refrigerator and filled the tiniest of insulin syringes. The boy knew from experience it wouldn't hurt, so when he felt the bodybuilder pinch the back of his balls, he got an erection right as the tip of the needle entered his sac. In a second, it was over. The boy slid his sweatpants on, stuffing the well-stretched jockstrap in his pocket. He could already feel the peptide working -- churning in his nuts. Damn, it felt good. The middle-aged bodybuilder smiled, his (mostly) black mustache contrasting his white teeth. "Let's see if you can go longer than three days this time," he said playfully, throwing one big arm around the boy's shoulders. They laughed and kissed awkwardly at the door, like friends, then the boy went his merry way. "I don't want to see you for at least a week," the bodybuilder said. "Seriously. You can do it." The boy blew him a silly kiss from his car. That evening, just after the bodybuilder had finished his workout and was thinking about something to eat, there came a dull pounding on his front door. He opened it to reveal a beautiful ginger boy, no more than eighteen, built like a wrestler or gymnast, big arms and no waist. He wore underarmor compression shorts which were stretched to the limit by his gigantic balls. It took both his hands to support their weight -- crazy unreal. "Ok, Coach" the ginger boy said, panting. "It's been two weeks. A record, you said. Now you gotta get me off. Please, they hurt so much -- they ACHE." The bodybuilder smiled, inadvertently licking his dark mustache. "You picked a good time," he said, drawing the boy inside, "I just finished working out and I'm STARVING…" He shut the door behind them. END
  18. arpeejay

    Manzeum (Part 5)

    By Richard Jasper Part 5 Part 4 can be found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10947-manzeum-part-4/ “Quite frankly, Mr. Funderburk, I’m astounded.” He had just completed his check-up with Dr. Peterson. He was 270 lbs., all of it muscle, and his numbers were amazing: BP 120/80 Resting heart rate: 50 bpm A1c: 5.5 “So, uh, am I understanding this correctly,” Roger asked, a frown on his handsome mug. “You’re telling me that technically speaking I know longer have diabetes?” Peterson waggled her hand. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” she said. “Your hemoglobin level is now – at least as of this visit – in the normal range. But that doesn’t mean that if you stopped taking the medication…” Roger interrupted her. “Oh, believe me, Doc, I want to finish the course!” Peterson slumped slightly, visibly relieved. “I’m very glad to hear that, Mr. Funderburk, especially since, uh, well, our other most successful patient seems to, uh, have dropped out of the program…” Roger’s eyes climbed his forehead. “Scott Allen dropped out…? I wouldn’t have thought that likely!” Peterson blushed. “Of course, as we discussed previously, I can’t name any names,” she pointed out. “But it’s not so much he has dropped out as, well, that patient didn’t show up for his appointment on Monday. And we haven’t been able to reach him since then.” Roger tugged on his chin. “Well,” he continued, finally. “If it turns out I run into a certain patient at my gym, I will be sure to inquire as to how he is doing, without, of course, indicating that I know anything about his non-attendance.” Peterson heaved a sigh of relief. “As you know,” she continued. “It is very important for us to have accurate and complete data. Our patients’ health is paramount, of course, but…” Roger nodded. “You’ll have no trouble from me,” he proclaimed. “Perhaps it’s time to send in the nurse?” +++ That afternoon at the gym, with Kevin and a bunch of the big boys looking on, Roger benched 675 lbs., more than double his bodyweight, for a single perfect rep. No lifting shirt, not even a lifting belt. “Not bad for 58, huh?” Kevin was practically dancing. “I need to see you in my office,” he muttered. “Now!” When Roger closed the door to the office, he turned to face Kevin…who promptly leapt into his arms! I’m holding a 240 lb. bodybuilder like he’s a little boy, Roger thought. And I like it! After Kevin had molested Roger’s mouth and neck and ears and eyebrows, he paused long enough to take a breath. “You could hold me here all day, couldn’t you?” he asked wonderingly. Roger put his meaty hands under Kevin’s pits and started lifting up and down, rep after rep after rep until, after about the 200th repetition, Kevin suddenly spasmed, then collapsed against Roger’s massive 57-inch chest. “Uh…” Roger began. Taking a ragged breath, Kevin spoke. “Did I just do what you thought I did? You bet!” He slid down Roger’s waist and pulled down Roger’s fleecy sweats, exposing his thick throbbing manhood and over his granite hard 30-inch quads. Before Roger could guide Kevin’s handsome head to its intended target, Kevin held up a hand. “Hang on a minute,” he said. “There’s something I want to check.” Roger blushed furiously. Awkward! He thought. Nothing like standing here with a raging hard-on while pretty boy goes rummaging through his desk! Kevin was back in a flash – with a tape measure! “Uh, really?” Kevin nodded. “Really.” Roger gazed at the ceiling while Kevin measured length and girth. If I watch, I’ll spurt, Roger thought. And I don’t want to spurt until I’m in his beautiful ass! “9x8,” Kevin announced. THEN Roger looked down, wonderingly! “Get the fuck out!” he exclaimed. “Since when?” Kevin shrugged his broad shoulders. “Since today, I guess,” he answered. “I thought it seemed like it was a little bit bigger every day. Now I know that it is!” Roger growled. “That gets you revved up, does it?” Kevin laughed. “So here’s the thing, Stud Man. You need to own this: You’re a 5’10, 270 lb. pro-quality bodybuilder with competitive powerlifter strength. With a 57-inch chest, 33-inch waist, 23-inch arms, and a nine-inch dick. Plus fucking delicious chestnut-brown hair – on your head, on your chest, on your concrete ripped to fuck abs, your ridonkulous wheels, your gigantic calves, and your pile-driver forearms.” Roger felt light-headed. Maybe all the blood has gone to my dick! “And you don’t look a day over 40,” Kevin added. “A young 40, at that. So enough with the ‘not bad for 58’ crap, OK? It’s weirding out the customers.” Roger’s jaw dropped. “Seriously, dude,” Kevin continued. “They’re convinced you’re some super experiment or they just don’t believe you’re the same guy.” Kevin pushed Roger’s jaw shut. “Now are you going to fuck me or what?” Just then Roger’s cell phone rang. In some regards, Roger was tech challenged but he had managed to find a special ringtone for Dr. Peterson. “Dr. Peterson?” he answered. “What’s up?” Peterson’s voice was raw. “Mr. Funderburk, I have some very bad, really quite horrible news to report,” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. “It’s Mr. Allen…” Roger felt a chill go down his spine. Before he could ask… “We learned today that Mr. Allen passed away on Sunday,” Peterson continued. She continued for a few minutes but Roger wasn’t listening. He ended the call without thinking. Concern creased Kevin’s brow. “What is it, Big Man?” Roger shook his head. “Scott Allen is dead. Heart attack.” Part 6 is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15442-manzeum-part-6/
  19. Tattcub

    Priapus Pictures

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

    Hard at Work [Part 4 added - 7/23/18]

    Hi, everyone! So I'm starting this experimental series to see if a more traditional narrative would work here, and I would really appreciate all feedback and critique to help me improve. This is mostly going to involve more plot and character than growing, although there will still be a lot of growing done. It just won't be the main focus (for now). Writing is something I don't normally get to do on a regular basis, but it's something I want to make a living out of, so all advice is incredibly welcome. I am more than willing to alter the way the narrative develops and is written depending on how people prefer their pacing and writing. Thanks in advance, and enjoy! 😊 Hard at Work [Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4] PART 1 Working at my job wasn’t exactly the most exciting thing in the world, but it paid the bills. On an average day, I would sit at my desk, wondering how a bachelor’s degree in Chemistry got me a job in human resources. It’s not like I had particularly good chemistry with other people either. During my time at the company so far, I’ve only been able to get close to two people. One of them was a co-worker of mine named Marcus. He often pulled pranks on me and made childish jokes at my expense whenever we took a break for coffee. Normally, him being a 23-year-old man, anyone would expect some sort of maturity or sense of responsibility. Marcus was nothing of the sort. He played around far too much and just did whatever the hell he wanted to. Every attempt our boss had at scolding him fell on deaf ears. With any other employee, our boss’ words would stop us dead in our tracks. Boss had that charismatic, authoritative aura about him. Unlike Marcus, our boss, Mr. Wesley Smith, or just Wes, took everything seriously. He had a reputation to uphold. Sure, he had his fair share of dad jokes every now and then, but people in the workplace were already so used to Marcus’ absurd antics that nobody ever really noticed. The three of us were often referred to around the office as the “threesome of power.” In one way or another, we all held some sort of power around the office. Wes had his obvious influence and status. Marcus had his absurdity and over-all charisma. Compared to them, I didn’t have as much. All anyone ever told me was that I was the glue that held together our little threesome. In my opinion, it’s just an excuse to call us a threesome since we’re always together. I wasn’t a big fan of the name, honestly. Especially since I was the only gay one. The main reason people chose to describe us as a “threesome” specifically is that Marcus and Wes were probably the most attractive and sought-after guys at the workplace. Marcus was 5’11” and pretty damn attractive. He had wavy, blonde hair that looked like it was streaked with chocolate, and his eyebrows were incredibly thick and a deep chestnut. Of the three of us, he also had the best body. He had been a model in his university years, so he developed a toned, muscled body with a deep V-shaped torso and disproportionate pecs and shoulders. On the other hand, Wes wasn’t bad looking, but all his time spent in bars showed. He was a good-looking man for his age, 31, having South-East Asian genes, and he had a strong square face that accentuated his stocky figure, being only 5’6”. He did go to the gym after work, but he developed a gut after all the vodka. People often say his most attractive feature is his cat eyes. His eyebrows also tilted inwards, so he always had this fierceness about him. It didn’t seem like he was meant to be built in any way besides a small tank either. While Marcus and Wes were the stars of our threesome, I was labeled the “DUFF.” I was only 24, but the new terms the kids kept coming up with always got lost on me. I was the least attractive among us, I must admit. 5’7” isn’t exactly a height anyone would be flaunting off. It’s not that I looked like Quasimodo though. I was just… average—nothing spectacular about me. On one particularly rainy day, Marcus approached me at my desk, wearing his favorite sky blue button-down. He leaned over the divider with a coffee in his hand and sipped it so loudly it echoed. “What are we gonna do about the rain? Do you wanna just move bar night to Wes’ condo again?” he asked. “Yeah, but have you asked him? We might still be banned since you wrecked his condo the last time.” Marcus flubbed his lips, nearly spilling his coffee on my desk. “Don’t worry about it! Wes’ll understand. Besides, this time we got someone to clean our shit.” “I’m not cleaning your mess this time, Marcus.” “Not you, stupid. I meant the new intern. Wes said he was coming in today.” I looked at him, puzzled. “What new intern? No one told me about any new interns.” “That’s because you never join the meetings.” “What? The last meeting we had was two months ago, and literally all we talked about was how you put red food coloring in the water tanks to make it look like we were drinking blood.” Marcus laughed. “Well, now we just have meetings at the bar. I managed to convince him to move our meetings to the conference room with the dancers.” He chuckled. I sighed. “Fine, whatever. What’s his name? The intern, I mean.” “Ah, wait.” Eric brought out his phone. “I’ll ask Wes.” We waited for the phone to pick up. As soon as we heard Wes’ voice, Marcus didn’t hesitate to yell. “Yo, Wes!” I could hear an audible sigh come from the phone. “What’s up, Marcus? I’m kinda busy right now.” “I just told Dory about the new intern, but I forgot his name. What was it again?” “Froy Adamson. 20 years old from Harbridge University. He just texted and said he was coming up. Could you two let him in and show him around? Thanks.” “Sure thing, sir.” Marcus bounced his head to the side and looked at me as if he were planning something. He always did his squinted eyes, raised eyebrows, and pouted mouth. It was a staple of his. He wasn’t fooling anyone doing a face like that. I wonder if he ever noticed. He put the phone back in his pocket. “Well, Dory, looks like you’ve got some more work to do.” I knew it. “Seriously? Didn’t he tell us to handle him? To-ge-ther?” Marcus shrugged. “Well, I’ve got some work to do, and I’m reeaally tired.” He yawned. “You can handle the kid by yourself, right?” I said yes, and he was off, walking back to his desk. I don’t know why I let him do this to me. He’s lucky he was hot. Before I could prepare myself for the new intern, there was a knock coming from the glass door. I got up and headed over. Only people without access cards couldn’t get in and had to knock, which meant it had to be the intern. If I heard correctly, his name was supposed to be Froy, and a student at Harbridge… damn, someone was loaded. I got to the glass door and saw him standing outside. He was wearing a black button-down with his sleeves rolled up and skintight black jeans. They must have been pretty big too since he looked like he had to be at least 6’1”. His jet black hair was short and cropped with little spikes sticking up. He had a cute face too. He had the most precious baby button nose and pronounced dimples, making him look younger than he actually was. I wouldn’t be surprised if girls crushed on him everywhere. He had a decently lean body, but he definitely had bodybuilder potential by the way his broad shoulders stuck outwards, much like Marcus’. However, it didn’t seem like he was the braggart type. If anything, he was a bookworm. He looked like he lived and breathed in a library. All he was missing was a pair of glasses, but instead, he had the most perfect eyelashes. The poor thing seemed soaked by the rain. I opened the door for him and let him come inside, causing him to shiver in his shirt from the cold, freezer-like office temperature. He smiled at me and giggled nervously. “Sorry, sir,” he said with a nervous smile. “I forgot to bring an umbrella. I didn’t think it would rain today.” My heart hadn’t fluttered in so long by a guy’s voice. The last time I felt this elevated was when I was still in college and chatting up the star football athlete before he got caught doping and got expelled. I missed having crushes like this. Thankfully, Froy seemed to be legal. A co-worker of mine already got fired once for having “intimate relations” with an underage intern. I wasn’t going to be next. “It’s fine. Are you Froy?” I asked. He nodded. “Yes, sir. I was supposed to start last week, but my mother had an emergency at the hospital, so I couldn’t leave.” “It’s fine, don’t worry. Family first,” I said. “Did you bring an extra shirt? You might get sick if you wear that wet shirt here all day.” “No, sir. I don’t have anything to change into. Sorry.” I grabbed his forearm. “It’s fine. Here, I’ll let you borrow one of my backup shirts.” “Sir, are you sure?” “Yeah, it’s fine.” I brought him to my desk where I grabbed him a seat. My co-workers who passed by would smile at him, enticed by his cute face and meek demeanor. He’d greet them back with a small wave and shy smile. Some people even came up and asked me if he was my new boyfriend. How many times did I have to tell everyone that I’ve never had a boyfriend before? They were just making the boy uncomfortable. I brought out a plain white shirt from my emergency kit and handed it over to him. He looked it over and thinking about it now, it was probably too small for him. Such was a con of being six inches shorter than someone. He held it up to the light, trying to estimate its size. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit,” I said. “Could I try it on, sir? Just to be sure?” “Sure, go ahead. Just don’t tear it.” I leaned back into my seat as I watched him begin unbuttoning his button-down. At the back of my mind, I knew this was leaning towards sexual harassment—and on the first day of his internship to boot—but I couldn’t help myself. The kid wasn’t reacting negatively either, so I guessed he was okay with it. A lawsuit was the last thing I needed. He started from the top-down, exposing his lean muscle underneath. He had a decently-sized chest for his leanness, and I never noticed how perky his nipples were underneath the black fabric either. There was no body hair on him too, just like Wes. “Nice abs,” I said. He blushed. “Ah, thank you, sir.” “You go to the gym or something? You play sports?” “No, sir. I used to be part of the gymnastics team, but I quit so I could focus on my studies.” Froy raised up his arms and tried squeezing into my shirt. He stuck his head through the tight hole and did his best to stretch out my shirt to fit in as much as possible. He looked ridiculous. It was like a man trying to wear a child’s dress. “You’ve still got a nice frame. If you went to the gym, I bet you could build it up easily,” I said. He looked ridiculous in my shirt. The sleeves didn’t even reach past his shoulders, so the fabric dug into his armpits. The shirt only reached the first set of abs, exposing his core and defined pelvis. It looked like a crop top. How he even got into something so tight is still a mystery to me. “Sir, I’m not sure I can wear this.” “Obviously.” I punched his abs. “Come on, let’s go ask someone else. I’m too short to be lending you my clothes.” “You’re not too short, sir.” “Yeah, you’re just too tall.” I told him to take off the shirt. He looked like he was in too much pain to be wearing something so ridiculous before we found a better replacement. As he raised it over his head and pulled his arms through the sleeves, he accidentally tore it down the side from the left sleeve down to the hem. He froze in panic. “Sir, I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to break your shirt. It was an accident, sir, I swear.” “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s just a shirt.” His lean torso was now exposed to the cold of the office again, but at least he wasn’t squeezed so tightly in my shirt. I didn’t want to kill him before Marcus did. I couldn’t afford that kind of blood on my hands at my age. No way my salary was going to cover it. I led the tall kid over to Marcus’ desk at the other end of the office. Marcus looked visibly disturbed, watching in silence as I approached with a tall, shirtless kid following closely behind me. I didn’t know what he was going to say or do. His eyes just kept darting back and forth between us, seemingly asking me, “What the fuck is going on?” “Hey, Marcus, this is the intern, and he—” “Why is he shirtless?” Marcus interrupted. I looked back at Froy, looking lost as always. “He got wet in the rain, and I told him I’d get him a new shirt. I tried giving him mine, but, uh…” Marcus raised an eyebrow. “But what? Dory, I need to tell you as a friend that you are very small. Did you try lending him your shirt? Was it too small? Did you come all the way here, to my cubicle, while I’m working, to ask for a shirt from me?” “Yes.” “Alright, here you go.” Marcus dug into his drawer and tossed Froy a clean, black shirt. Froy looked confused but put on the shirt. It fit him perfectly. Thankfully, Marcus’ tailored shirts to fit his broad shoulders and chest fit Froy just right. It was a bit short at the hem though. His pelvis would peek whenever he moved, but he was well-covered. The sleeves also accentuated what muscle he had on his arms, as expected from Marcus. “I have to say though, he’s got a nice body,” Marcus said. “The ‘overtime work’ he’ll be doing later is gonna be a nice work-out.” “Marcus, he’s not a maid.” “And I’m not Frida Kahlo.” “You aren’t.” “Shut up,” Marcus said. “Hey, kid, you’ll be coming with us after work, right?” Froy’s eyes grew wide. “Uh…” “Marcus, it’s only his first day. He doesn’t even know our names yet!” “It’ll be fiiiine. My name’s Marcus Fringe, and there’s your Sir Dorian Yale. You can just call us Marcus and Dory. Our boss is Sir Wesley Smith: short, stocky Asian dude. You can call him Wes. If you ever wanna come work for us, you could be a part of our little circle of friends here. We got cookies.” “Oh, I like cookies,” Froy whispered. “Stop fucking with my intern, Marcus.” “You’re not my mom.” Wes’ office was right in front of Marcus’ cubicle. Any time Marcus made too much noise or whenever Wes would leave for the washroom and caught Marcus doing something stupid, Wes would be the first to scold him. He often threatened to lower his pay, but Marcus didn’t care. They were too close to actually do anything like that. As we were talking, the door to Wes’ office opened. He walked out, wearing a skintight banana yellow collared shirt that showed off his muscles and small gut. Every shirt in his wardrobe seemed to be skintight. I remember him telling us once that he was raised to only wear the tightest clothing because it makes you look bigger. He was only 5’6”, so I could understand why. “Why are you making so much noise, Marcus?” he asked, standing in the doorway. “Oh.” I waved at him. “Hi, sir. This is Froy, the intern. I was just asking Marcus for an extra shirt since he got wet in the rain.” “Well, take care of him then. Show him around the floor or something, I dunno,” Wes said. “Oh, and Dory…” “Yes, sir?” “Take him out with ya later, aight? We’re gonna have a little fun.” Oh god. “Yes, sir.” Wes was returning to his office when Froy spoke up. “Oh, sir!” he said. “How do I get through the door? I don’t have an access card.” “Hm? You don’t need an access card. You just grab the handle, twist it, then pull. That’s how you open a door.” “Wes, never speak again,” Marcus said. “What about this?” Wes whispered. “Or this ♪?” he sang. “I’m done,” I said. “And I’m just getting started!” He fired double finger guns at me with the silliest grin, laughing at himself immediately afterwards. We all separated and went back to our work for the day. I finished up the rest of my work as fast as I could so that I’d have more time to tour Froy around the building. It was just a hunch, but I thought he’d appreciate the convenience store. The store has an unlimited sundae cone deal where you could get as much ice cream as you wanted as long as it’s in one continuous swirl and it doesn’t fall over. When we got there, I saw his eyes light up like a child at the carnival. He wasted no time and immediately ordered a sundae cone. I didn’t even have to tell him. It seemed like he was used to doing this sort of thing already. By the time the ice cream was five inches tall, I was getting worried. It looked like it would fall at any moment. “Froy, are you sure you wanna keep going?” “Yes, sir! I’ve done this before. My mom calls me a master at this.” By the time it reached 8 inches tall, he stopped the machine. He stood still at first, watching it intently. It looked like he was trying to connect his soul to the sundae, becoming one with its spirit or something. When he finally got it to stabilize, he smiled. “See, sir?” he said. Then he raised it up and dunked it in his mouth, all the way down to the cone. My eyes grew wide. Froy just took in 8 inches of freezing cold sundae in his mouth like it was nothing. “What the fuck? Did you just eat the entire thing in one bite?” He nodded, still swallowing the ice cream. When he finished, he accidentally exhaled into my face, filling my nose with his cold, breath-infused chocolate smell. He apologized and offered to wipe it off my nose. I had to tell him to stop since he still had the cone to finish. “How the fuck did you do that?” “My brothers taught me when I was younger how to exercise my gag reflex so I could take in more things. I could fit a whole foot-long in my mouth too!” he said. “It just got kinda messy… so we had to stop.” His face sunk. The cute smile he wore faded away after it seemed like he remembered something. “What happened?” “They, uh, taught me to give them blowjobs when I was 12. I thought it was normal for a few years, then they got arrested for selling drugs when I was 15. My mother told me they were horrible to me and told me what they were doing to me was wrong. So now I’m trying to find a job to pay for my mother’s hospital bills since I’m her only family left. She already used up all her savings on my tuition.” I felt horrible for him and found myself hugging him. He was stiff and caught in surprise at first, but he softened up and wrapped his arms around me too. I didn’t know he lived like this. I couldn’t take advantage of someone like him. It wouldn’t be right. “I’m so sorry.” He gave his ice cream a quick lick. “Don’t worry, sir, it’s fine. I’m over it now. I still miss them though.” “Who? Your brothers? They molested you as a kid. You shouldn’t be missing them. They deserve to rot in prison.” “We used to play games every day outside our house. They even bought me a goldfish once for my 14th birthday since it was all they could afford with their own money. I named him Pudge.” We headed back to my desk upstairs after finishing his ice cream and filing for his access card. The issue with his brothers was something we didn’t want to bring up too much in case he got triggered. More than half the office had already gone home for the day. Marcus, Wes, and I planned to leave for Wes’ condo at 8pm with Froy together. After I finished up, I asked Froy if he was okay with it. It was only his first day as an intern. I wouldn’t be surprised if he declined. Who knows what we might have been planning to do to him outside office hours? “It’s okay with me, sir.” “Are you sure? I haven’t even told you what we were doing.” “Oh, uh,” he said before chuckling nervously. “We’re going to your sir Wes’s condo to drink. Wes and Marcus just want you to be their sober caretaker, so you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Froy waved his hands. “Oh, no, sir, it’s okay with me. I’m used to being the sober one with my friends.” “Oh, okay. And don’t worry about something bad happening to you. None of us have ever done anything crazy before. Besides, Marcus is straight, and Wes is bi, but he has a family. I’m the only gay one here.” His eyebrows shot up. “You’re gay, sir?” “Yeah, why?” He looked away. “Nothing, sir.” That led me to wonder. Was he also gay? I guessed I could always figure that out some other time. After we packed up, we headed down to the basement carpark where Marcus and Wes were waiting for us at Wes’ truck. There were paper cups everywhere. It seemed like they’d been waiting there for a few years by the way they were lounging around and drinking coffee endlessly. When we got there, Marcus walked up to me and grabbed me by the shoulders. “What the fuck took you so long?” he asked. His pointed gaze shot into my skull. “You told me not to fuck with your intern, but is it really me you should be worrying about?” “We were just finishing up some shit. It took longer than expected. Sorry ‘bout it.” “Just get in the fucking truck already!” Wes yelled. “The vodka isn’t gonna drink itself!” I sat in the passenger seat, with Marcus and Froy in the back. It was the system we developed together when we first started hanging out at bars a few months ago. Marcus hated seatbelts and feeling claustrophobic, and I preferred the safety of the seatbelt. The three of us normally went out to the bar down the street on foot, but tonight, we decided to head to Wes’ condo instead to avoid the rain. The only thing different was that we had Froy with us. “Hey, kid, what was your name again?” Marcus asked. “Uh, sir, Froy Adamson, sir.” “Froy?” Marcus began to chuckle. He was visibly struggling to hold in his laughter. “Like fro-yo?” Froy was silent. “...Yes, sir. Frozen yogurt.” Marcus released his contained laughter, nearly keeling over his seat. Froy became worried and began to panic. Wes and I had to reassure him that making fun of people’s names was just something Marcus did on a daily basis to everyone around the office. Marcus was only a year younger than me, but he had the heart of a child that he never grew out of. We loved that about him. Marcus placed a hand on Froy’s shoulder. “I like this kid,” he said. Froy blushed. “I’m sure you do,” Wes said. “Everyone loves yogurt.” “Don’t predate on my intern, Marcus!” “I don’t wanna hear that from you, Dory!” Marcus said. “Hey, kid. I’ve been planning on going back to the gym again. If you ever wanna come with, just tell me, okay? You look like you’d be a great workout partner.” “Hey, what about me? Why do you ask the intern before your boss who you KNOW goes to the gym?” Wes asked. “How tall are you again, Wes?” Marcus asked. “Right now, about as high as your chances at a promotion, Marcus.” Marcus threw his arms around Wes’ seat. “Hey, come on! It was just a joke! It’s just too hard to be gym buddies with someone so short. Plus you’ve got that tiny gut.” “I can’t help it! Vodka might as well be my blood of Christ.” “So you’re a cannibal?” “What do you think happened to my first boyfriend?” The conversation continued for the next half hour on the road. Froy and I remained silent for the most part while Marcus and Wes bantered, with us being brought in every so often as jokes. Marcus couldn’t let go of “fro-yo.” The rain blocked the streets and kept us in traffic longer than we would have wanted. Wes began getting calls from his wife, asking about where he was since his kids were getting impatient after being locked up for so long. When we got to the forest separating Wes’ condo complex from the city district, Marcus brought out these small white pills he hid inside a tic-tac box. The resemblance was uncanny. Froy and I watched him, unaware of what the pills would do. No one was around to help if Marcus did something stupid. “Hey, Wes. You want a tic-tac?” Marcus asked. Froy and I watched in silence, fully aware of what Marcus was trying to do. “If you’re trying to bribe me for a pay raise again, it’s gonna take more than a tic-tac this time.” “No, seriously, come on. It’s just a candy. Completely free. No strings attached.” Wes held out a hand, and Marcus placed one on his palm. “This better not be another one of your fucking pranks, Marcus. The last one is still giving my kids diarrhea.” Wes threw the small white pill in his mouth without any hesitation. Suddenly, his stomach grumbled loudly. “God damn it, Marcus.” Marcus laughed and slammed his hand repeatedly against the back of Wes’ seat. Froy shifted closer to the door in fear. “What did you give him, Marcus?” I asked. “Dying in a car crash with you was not on my list of things to-do today.” “Mine too,” Froy mumbled. “Relax! It’s harmless. I already tried it on my dog, and nothing happened to her.” “I’m not a dog, Marcus! I’m your boss!” “And I’m not a scientist!” “That doesn’t make things any better, Marcus—Oh, my god... what the fuck is going on...” Wes looked uncomfortable, shifting around like there was a cactus on his seat. I looked down and saw that he was growing a tent in his pants. At first, I thought it was just viagra, but then a wet spot began to form. Wes’ face was red as a tomato and was completely speechless. I could smell the familiar smell that filled my room after school as a kid. Wes came. He came right in front of all of us. He didn’t even have to touch himself or do anything for it either. I looked back at Marcus and Froy, and Marcus’ face was frozen in a face of pure glee. He had the expression of a child witnessing Santa for the first time and couldn’t be happier. Froy on the other hand was completely mortified. The poor thing didn’t know how to react. Wes was barely able to keep his focus on the road because of the way he was feeling. He just came in his pants. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what that pill did to him. Wes stopped the truck at a nearby tree and turned off the truck, running out and checking the damages at a tree out of sight. The three of us followed suit. Marcus didn’t even look the least bit guilty about what he just did. Froy stood by me, waiting and watching for what happened next. “What the fuck did you give me?” Wes asked. Marcus waved his hands in the air. “Nothing! I swear it was just a bunch of random shit I found in my kitchen. I didn’t think it would do anything.” “Well, it did! Now my favorite pants are ruined.” Wes stepped back into the moonlight where we saw a massive wet spot all over his crotch. If we didn’t know it was cum, we might’ve mistaken it for piss just by its sheer quantity. I didn’t think it was possible to cum so much. Judging by the defined outline running down his left thigh as well, it seemed he was hiding more than just one secret. The short man had to compensate somewhere. “God damn it, Marcus.” “Come on, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean it. I was gonna try it on myself, but I wanted to see if it—” “If it killed me?” “Well, no, but—” “I can’t believe I already wet myself… I haven’t even had a fucking bottle yet. You owe me for this.” Marcus shot me a look of relieved anguish, knowing he wasn’t going lose his job or his friendship. He walked up to Wes and helped him clean up by the tree. While Wes and Marcus were off cleaning up, Froy and I wandered a bit off to the forest to take in the beautiful nighttime scenery overlooking the city. The city lights shined brightly over the trees. They gave off an iridescent spotlight-lit night sky that shadowed the tree leaves and branches, blocking out the stars but lighting up the darkness. “This is a great view,” I said. “Yes, sir,” Froy replied. As we were enjoying our quiet time alone together, Froy noticed what looked like a shooting star in the empty sky. Wes and Marcus came over and joined us in staring at the falling light. A thought occurred to me, however, that this was not how falling stars normally worked. It looked as though it were literally falling out of the sky. I’m pretty sure falling stars aren’t supposed to look like they’re coming straight at us. “Hey, that’s no fucking shooting star, you idiots! That’s a meteor!” Wes said. “Hide behind something!” We could barely react when we saw that it was already a building’s height away from us. Froy and I hid behind a nearby tree. Marcus sprinted across to the truck with Wes. The burning rock rang a piercing loud screech in our ears before crash landing into the clearing between us and the truck. Flaming debris flew everywhere, covering the area in a black soot. Smoke filled the air for a good few minutes until we were able to breathe and see things again. All four of us emerged from our hiding spots and eyed the strange rock. Froy, Wes, and I approached it hesitantly, watching it from a distance in case it had any surprises waiting to pop out and do some serious harm. It could have had some new viruses or small flesh-eating aliens hiding inside. I highly doubted our job’s insurance program covered space AIDS. Meanwhile, while three of us were being careful, Marcus decided to make a headstart and gingerly walked up to it. He stuck out his hands and felt the intense heat emanating from the meteor. “What are you doing, Marcus?! Get back here where it’s safe,” Wes said. Marcus looked back and smiled. “Relaaax, it’s not gonna do anythingI” When the rest of us got to surround the meteor, it seemed to have cooled off. All four of us examined it closely, checking for any dangerous movements or glowing substances sticking out. For the next few minutes, it just seemed like it was a regular, boring old rock—from space. It didn’t grow a face and sing show tunes like I expected. I’d be lying if I said wasn’t disappointed. “It just seems like a rock,” Froy said. “Obviously,” Marcus said. “But what’s inside?” “If it's anything like your head, not much,” Wes said. “Then there’s nothing to worry about, right?” Marcus stepped into the crater and slammed his hands onto the meteor. He began pressing down on it with his body weight, trying to pressure it to crack open and reveal whatever monstrosity was inside of it. Froy and I backed away while Wes stepped forward and tried prying Marcus off of it. “Marcus, what are you doing?! Stop!” “I just wanna see what’s inside! It might have space diamonds, Wes!” Marcus let out a yell as he used all his strength and cracked open the meteor. From the crack, a neon green liquid splurged out, spilling onto Marcus’ shirt. He panicked, wondering what the hell the scentless, luminescent goo was, when suddenly the crack opened up further. It erupted, blasting a mortified Marcus with the strange gunk. He was covered head to toe, front to back, unable to even open his mouth or eyes in pure horror. The meteor now looked unstable. It was rumbling, and cracks began spreading from where Marcus first breached its outer shell. More and more of the green liquid spurted out. It didn’t seem long before it would explode. Marcus grumbled for help, running towards Wes. “Hey, stop! Don’t get that shit on me! I just got my pants dry!” Wes yelled. Before Marcus could even get to him, the meteor exploded. Nuclear green slime flew everywhere. Marcus got blasted back onto the ground by the sheer amount he was covered in. He didn’t look like he could move very well at all anymore. Wes was yelling out Marcus’ name when the goo flew into his mouth and covered his entire front from head to toe. I could hear him yelling as he swallowed it. “Sir!” As the meteor exploded towards us, Froy ran up to me. He used his body as a shield to block me from the slime, with his back spread out against the meteor. I looked up at him and saw fear in his eyes. Neither of us could move from where we were as we were frozen in absolute shock about what just happened. The meteor settled down, and there was green slime absolutely everywhere. It coated the trees, the grass, the soil, everything. Marcus was absolutely drenched in it, struggling to even stand up. Wes ran to a tree and began vomiting, trying to expel whatever he swallowed and trying to get himself clean again. Froy’s entire backside and his arms were completely covered. He shook his body as much as he could to try and get it off of him. “What the fuck just happened?” I asked. “That fucking—pfthuh—piece of shit meteor just fucking exploded!” Wes yelled, spitting out the remnants. “Are we going to fucking die?!” Marcus yelled, on his knees, crying in anguish at the sky, looking like a grotesque smile monster. “I don’t wanna fucking die, god!” “This is all your fault!” Wes said. “I’m fucking aware of that, Wes! I wasn’t expecting the meteor to be a fucking water balloon filled with green shit!” “Okay, everyone, just relax!” I said. “We just need to get clean and report this to the police so they can clean it up or something.” Marcus and Wes turned and glared at me, clean and dry from head to toe. “We can’t tell anyone about this! If the authorities find out we fucked with some meteor and got caught with some disease, then we might be forced to spend time in a lab until we die,” Wes said. Marcus pointed at me. “And why the fuck are you dry? Did you tell your little boytoy intern to be your shield?!” “No, he ran up to me himself. I didn’t tell him to do anything, Marcus.” “Fucking shit, man…” I stood watch by the truck while Froy, Wes, and Marcus cleaned themselves up by the river. It was nearly midnight when they got back looking absolutely exhausted after trying to get every drop of slime off their bodies for the past few hours. They dumped all their clothes in Wes’ gym bag and got into his truck in nothing but wet underwear. ‘Uncomfortable’ could not even begin to explain the atmosphere. I couldn’t even be bothered to appreciate all the hot, semi-naked bodies surrounding me when I was still reeling over what the hell just happened. I’d already seen all of them shirtless before at least once, but I had yet to see Froy’s business. Did he prefer boxers or briefs? Was he a shower or a grower? It didn’t seem that important. All I knew was that Wes was thick and hung like a motherfucker. “This has to be our secret, got it?” Wes said. “No one else can know about this.” We all agreed. None of us were in the mood to get dissected or experimented on for the rest of our lives. As Wes drove away, heading to his condo, I took one last look back at the scene. The meteor looked like a cracked egg that got blown up in a microwave. However, what seemed strange to me was how there seemed to be a lot less slime than before. What used to be a complete sheet of glowing green slime over everything was now mostly back to normal with some freckles here and there. It must have either dissipated in the atmosphere or got absorbed into the ground. Either way, it didn’t seem like that was just going to end there. I could feel in my gut that this wasn’t the last time this meteor was going to be a part of our lives. If the slime did get absorbed in the ground and trees, then what would happen with humans? There was no way they didn’t at least absorb some of it. There was just no way. Regardless, this was going to be our secret from now on. It seemed our little threesome just became a foursome.
  21. theseventhwave

    The Symbiote War - Chapter 14

    Hello everyone! My apologies for the loooonnnngggg delay. Life has been busy - and this sort of writing is challenging. Much thanks to everyone for being so very kind and supportive. And very special thanks to Xyggurat for pushing (gently) and also for being the inspiration for this story in the first place - you really should read Xyggurat's "The Roommate" series. If you haven't ready Chapters 1 through 13 - here are links: Chapter 1-7: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1689-the-symbiote-war/ Chapter 8: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/4428-the-symbiote-war-chapter-8/ Chapters 9-10: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5517-the-symbiote-war-chps-9-10-and-eventually-the-rest/ Chapter 11 is on page 3 of the previous thread. Chapter 12 is on page 4 of the previous thread. Chapter 13 is on page 5 of the previous thread. And finally... Here is chapter 14. Chapter 14: Sunday – Caught! It’s Sunday morning and I’m leaving Mark’s apartment with all the feelz; the warm fuzzies from having spent the night cuddling with this hot boy, exuberance at this budding relationship, amazement from having met such a wonderful man, but then also trepidation of what’s waiting for me – not just with Shawn, but with my future. Will there ever be an end to this growth ability? Would I want this to end? Because it’s Sunday morning, I know Shawn will be in the gym. So I head back to our dorm room to shower and make plans for the day. As I open the door, the first thing that hits me is the air. It’s hot and musky-sweet smelling (more musky than sweet). That catches me off-guard and I hesitate with the door half opened. But then a meaty arm reaches through the opening, grabs my wrist, and before I can even gasp, pulls me in. “Hey Little Buddy! Where’ve you been?” Shawn’s body is radiating heat, his hand on my wrist is warm…and potentially crushing the bones in my wrist. I’m staring at his massive chest. He’s shirtless, his pecs look pumped and swollen – red and sweaty – and the striations are criss-crossed with veins. So fucking hot! I would totally be enjoying this if only the bones in my wrist would stop complaining. “Shawn, you’re breaking my wrist.” “Sorry buddy.” As he finishes pulling me into the room he lets go of my wrist as he closes the door. “I’m still getting used to being this strong.” He tosses out that line casually, as if it isn’t the weirdest, sexiest, freakiest, hottest fucking thing ever. “Shouldn’t you be in the gym on a Sunday morning?” “I spent the whole day there yesterday, when I wasn’t looking for you. Where have you been hiding?” I certainly don’t want to share my secret hiding spot, so I try to re-direct the conversation. “Why would you be looking for me? And again, shouldn’t you be in the gym?” Ok, admittedly that was not my best re-direction work. In my defense, I was caught off-guard by Shawn being in the room, and I’m having trouble concentrating with these slabs of delicious pec meat heaving in my face. “Yeah I’ve been waiting here for you to come back. I’ve been passing the time doing body-weight exercises, but they’re not really a challenge anymore. I’m waiting for you so that I can get back to the gym. I spent the whole day there yesterday – and after getting a boost from you Friday night and yesterday morning, it was a fucking amazing gym day. I blew through all my personal bests on every exercise. I can’t describe how much of a turn-on it is to be this strong and be able to throw around so much weight!” He doesn’t really have to try. Just listening to him talk about being so strong has me hard as a rock. I’m beginning to perceive a problem… “Shawn…” I try to start some sort of argument to try and extract myself from this situation. “I want another day like that. I want another day full of blowing through all my PB’s. And you’re going to help me with that.” My balls churn at the thought. “Shawn…” I swear I’m trying to come up with some sort of argument, but my brain is not helping me here – maybe because all my blood is somewhere else… In a bit of a surprise move, Shawn picks me up. He’s hugging me tight and carrying me over to the bed. Part of me is screaming. But my hands are clamped on his striated deltoids and I’m already grinding my boner into his chest. So obviously, part of me is revelling in this sexy beast. Shawn throws me down on my bed and immediately he’s on top of me – taking off my clothes. Not only am I not trying to resist, I’m actually helping to get my clothes off. Shawn kicks off his shorts, freeing his cock to swing like a pendulum – a big, thick pendulum that I want to put in my mouth. He’s holding himself over me with one arm and caressing my boner with a big meaty hand. I am already leaking. My hands are everywhere; trying to dent his biceps, exploring the crevasse between his pecs, reaching down to grab hold of his muscle-y bubble-butt, and stroking his hot cock. He lowers himself down onto me, his hot pecs pressing firmly into mine. And I can feel our cocks grinding together between our abs – and I can tell that his is bigger, harder, and hotter than mine. It’s all too much, my balls churn and I’m over the edge. I can feel the cum rocketing from my cock – slicking up the space between our bodies – our abs and cocks now gliding smoothly from the lubrication. I’m locked in orgasm, but Shawn is still thrusting on top of me. I can feel his growth – his pecs are pushing into mine, his body widens and lengthens, his hard cock takes up more space between us, pushing harder into my abs and crawling farther up my chest. And as this is happening, I can feel the lubrication disappearing as my cum is soaked up into his body – until we’re left dry humping again. “Oh fuck yeah!” Shawn breathes. “Corrigan, you are amazing.” He pushes himself up a bit and so I get a better look at his body. His arms look like pillars of marble. The striations of muscle in his shoulders ripple as they fight for space under his skin. His pecs are larger than they were before, and from this angle, I get a glorious view of his bulging abs and obliques – at least what’s not being obscured by his cock. His cock is sticking up between us and it’s beyond belief – thick and meaty and wrapped in veins. I’m drooling. Shawn can see the lust in my eyes, and responds with a cute smile and a gleam in his eye. “One more dose before the gym.” “But I just came!” “I’ve got that covered.” “You’ve what?!” “Drink this.” And before I can even register a stunned expression, Shawn has plastic juice bottle up to my lips. I’m instantly reaching up to get this out of my face, but Shawn easily holds my hands at bay. “Drink this nicely, this doesn’t have to get unpleasant.” There’s no contest – I can’t even fight my way past one of his arms. I drink. “What was that?” “It turns out that one of the advantages of being a muscle stud is that people will do anything for a feel. I caught a pharmacist lusting after me in the gym yesterday. He was more than happy to help me out, and I convinced him to get me a little something. I don’t think this drug is actually on the legal market, but it’s supposed to be quite effective – a little something to help me get a second dose without having to wait for your refractory period to end.” I can feel myself getting flushed. Maybe it’s just embarrassment. Maybe it’s the drug. Maybe it’s just me being turned on by this muscle stud kneeling over me with his boner on my abs? And in less than a minute, I have my answer. I can feel the “flush” intensifying and centering on my cock – my boner feels as if it’s a beating heart. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my whole life. “What the hell did you give me?” “No idea. But clearly it’s working.” Shawn gives my boner a squeeze. A tiny drop of pre-cum forms on the tip. “You’re such a sexy little fucker.” “Ummm…. Thanks?” Shawn leans in and pops my boner in his mouth. His mouth is warm – my cock is on fire. He’s sucking hard – I can see the muscles in his neck flexing. I run my hands through his hair, over his muscular traps, and clamp on to the striations in his massive deltoids. “Unnnggg…” His vacuuming on my boner is so intense it’s both ecstasy and agony. I can feel his shoulders widening, the already hard muscles pushing against my hands. Shawn reaches up and cups my balls in his hand – gently kneading. It’s all too much – my climax is coming from somewhere deep inside me and I can feel it slowly building in intensity. It starts at the base of my penis, my balls clench up, my cock expands in anticipation. Shawn can feel that I’m about to cum, he clenches a little tighter on my balls and jams my cock deeper down his throat. And with that, it’s an explosion. I’ve never had such a climax, my cock felt like an out-of-control firehose. Shawn eagerly did his best to take it all. At the end I was completely spent, but even though my balls were drained, my cock was still throbbing as if it couldn’t help but continue to try and give up more. Shawn slowly pulls back, my still hard erection is now visible, it looks swollen. But I have no time for that, it’s Shawn that’s stealing the show. Standing up straight, I can see growth everywhere. His physical…presence is filling the room. His head is inching toward the ceiling, resting on top of a spectacular mountain of traps. His deltoid muscles stand out impressively, looking as if they are fighting for space with his chest. All of this is framed by the massive wide V of his back and the cobblestones of his obliques. Shawn’s quads are so wide that he’s standing in that bodybuilder stance where he has to have his legs slightly spread. And that cock! Shawn clearly has a semi, but it’s thick as my wrist, and even draped over his impressive balls it is slowly inching down closer to his knees. “It’s been a while. Let’s do this.” He throws a tape measure at me. I am unable to process all of this; it’s too much to take in. I am exhausted, and my mind is spinning so fast in so many directions that it’s standing still. I am in awe of Shawn’s body; this “god of muscle” is standing before me, and all I want to do is spend eternity worshiping. My formerly smaller roommate is now towering over me, and all I can see is hard, rippling muscle in every direction – and I am both turned on and frightened. Not necessarily frightened of Shawn, but frightened by how much I want to give him more growth. What have I become? Fortunately, Shawn is oblivious to my whirlwind of thoughts. “Let’s start with height. The world feels different from up here.” I pull on my underwear before we get going – but no time for anything more – Shawn is too eager. As I’m trying to unravel the tape measure, I realize that there’s no way I’m going to be able to measure something that tall – I can reach up there, but I can’t actually see the mark on the tape measure. I grab my rickety collapsible metal study chair from my desk – it wobbles a bit as I climb up to reach Shawn’s head. “It looks as if you’ve hit six feet and two inches according to the tape measure.” “Almost a whole foot taller! No wonder everything looks so different. Let’s move to chest.” I can’t reach around his chest, so I wrap the tape measure around his waist. “32 inches.” Shawn flexes his abs – it looks as if a brick wall just exploded under his skin – the ridges of the abdominals and obliques stand out sharply. I re-measure his waist. “Still 32 inches.” But there’s not an ounce of fat anywhere – it’s all solid muscle. And then with some effort, I shimmy/slide the tape up to his chest. Shawn stands at attention and flexes his chest and back – I almost drop the tape. “58 inches! That’s thick.” And to paraphrase a meme: I’m not drooling! You’re drooling! I wrap the tape measure around his thigh – it’s thick and I can feel the striations in the muscle moving around under his skin. “30-inch thighs!” Shawn’s not fully hard, but he definitely has more than just a semi. The tape measure shows 14 inches, with 10 inches of girth. “And now my biceps.” Shawn raises his right arm – keeping it straight out from his body. I wrap the tape measure around the bicep – he’s not flexing, but the arm is already impressively thick. I can see veins running along the bicep and connecting to a roadmap in his forearms. Shawn flexes his bicep. I just want to lick it. “Are you gonna measure that?” Shawn’s amused. “Oh yeah, sure.” I grasp one end of the tape measure and pull the other end: “22 fucking inches.” “Excellent. This is fucking amazing! I need to go throw some serious weight around.” “Shawn, I don’t think the gym’s going to have enough weights to challenge you.” “We’ll see about that.” He seems pleased and amused and has a bit of a far-off look in his eye. “But after the gym, I’m going to want another round with you. But you seem to keep disappearing on me.” “Shawn…” He’s looking around the room – and fixates on my rickety metal study chair. “This will do.” Shawn picks up the chair and proceeds to rip it apart with his bare hands. “Shawn! That’s my chair!” “I want you here when I get back. And so… Get on the bed.” I hesitate, wondering if I can make a run for it. But I’m just in my underwear, I haven’t had time to get dressed. “I’m being nice here, giving you the opportunity to have a comfortable place. Or, we can do this in a less comfortable spot.” Realizing that I’m not getting out of the room, I climb onto my bed. Shawn easily manipulates the metal frame into a makeshift set of rings. “Reach up, I’m tying you to the bedframe.” He wraps one of the rings around the bedframe and then around my wrist – initially getting it uncomfortably tight, but he sees the look of pain run across my face and adjusts the metal ring so that it’s tight but not pinching. He does the same with the other ring. I am now lying on my back with one arm tied to each bedpost. In any other circumstance, this would be insanely hot. People would pay money for this! But for some reason, I can’t seem to appreciate that right now. “Shawn. You can’t tie me up against my will. This isn’t right, and you know it.” “Listen little buddy. I need you to be here. And if you would just stop running away, I wouldn’t have to do this. Besides, I am going to go and blow through my lifts and pump these muscles to their max – and then me and my sweaty, pumped muscles are going to come right back here and rescue you.” Ok. Ok! I admit it. I’m turned on. Even my spent dick stirred at the thought of Shawn coming back sweaty and pumped. Shawn struggles to put on his workout clothes. Nothing fits and everything looks ridiculous on his gigantic frame. He settles on a muscle shirt that hides nothing and a pair of basketball shorts that now look like spandex. And nothing is capable of hiding his massive package. “I’ll be back. You wait here little buddy.” Shawn gives me a wink and a smile that somehow, in spite of the fact that he’s just tied me up, still manages to give me butterflies. I can hear him lock the door from the other side. I’m alone. “Fuck.”
  22. ABSQRST

    Liquid Manhood- Chapter Three

    Thanks for all the comments, part four should be up by the weekend at the earliest. Read Part One HERE Read Part Two HERE Liquid Manhood Chapter Three “You are in very good health Mr Wington” the doctor finally said after poking and checking Barrett out for nearly an hour The doctor had seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in having Barrett strip, the older man’s hands running along the ridges of Barrett’s stomach and chest. Ridges that to most people would of been considered amazing to possess, but Barrett knew they weren’t as cut as they had been last week. “We’ll have to wait for the test results to come back in a few days, but from what I can tell you are a fit healthy man in his early 20s” the doctor added, flicking through a chart Barrett looked the doctor in his almost-orange-with-fake-tan face, annoyance plastered over Barrett’s handsome, but exhausted features. “Nearly two months back when you gave me my start of the year physical you said I was the most healthy person you’d ever saw” Barrett explained Even back then the doctor has spent more time than he needed to feel out Barrett’s body. He remembered the doctor fingering each solid brick of Barrett’s abs. Shaking off the memory of the obvious groping he heaved himself off the examination table, pulling at the bottom of his shirt to hide his still amazingly ripped abs. He’d been doing it more and more recently, he just had this thought in the back of his head that he was on display, like he was suddenly all self conscious. He even dug out an old long sleeved shirt from his closet to hide the thick toned pillars he called arms. The Barrett Wington who had always tried to not wear a shirt suddenly didn't want anyone to look at him. “Yes…well Mr Wington, that was last month” the doctor replied “You still are in very good shape, and very good health” There it was, ’very good’, not ‘amazing’ or ‘incredible’. Barrett was used to being perfect, ‘very good’ was a demotion. “Like I said when you arrived and when you called last week” the doctor continued “You might just have a bug, happens a lot in the first few months of the academic year” Barrett just nodded, the doctor was most likely right. A virus or infection was the only explanation for how Barrett felt, and how it seemed the entire football team were feeling the same. The doctor handed Barrett a small box of pills. “Takes these twice a day” the doctor said “Should give your immune system a little boost” Barrett just nodded again, finding it harder to find his voice, like he was getting nervous around people. As he left the doctor called back “Come back in a few days, we’ll have your results then, but remember to take it easy.” Barrett ignored him and slowly walked back to the frat house, scratching at his crotch the entire way. His jock strap was still itchy, even though he’d had it washed everyday since the itching started. He probably shouldn't wear it anymore, but he just couldn't get comfy in other underwear. It was like he’d gotten used to the itchy jock. Going to the local clinic felt like a waste of time, he’d felt like shit all week. It had messed with his workouts, even football practice had been terrible. Coach Peters nearly burst a vein bellowing at the failing athletes, and at Barrett especially. But Barrett had a horrible thought in the back of his mind, a virus could cause every symptom he had. It would cause the soreness, the exhaustion, the failure to be an active jock, but even with Barrett’s basic knowledge of biology he knew that nothing could make your feet a size smaller. He stared at his feet as he walked, both out of a want not to make eye contact with others and to also examine his feet. Barrett’s size 15 sneakers were feeling loose. Maybe it was time Barrett pulled out his old size 14s. Barrett’s next step ended up with his shoe being left behind. His eyes widened and Barrett quickly slipped his foot back into the too big sneaker. His pace quickened and he crossed his meaty arms over his still impressive chest defensively, on second thought he’d borrow a frat bro’s size 13s. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Chris and Melvin sat in the greasy pizzeria just outside of campus, huddled in a booth a back. The red leather seats fraying and the table still stained from the meals of the last few dozen diners. The dingy restaurant was Paulie’s Pizza, a place famous on campus as the go to place for a cheap meal, just as long as you liked pizza. Paulie, if that was his name was a Persian who clothes were always stained with pizza grease, he was as Italian as Super Mario. But Melvin had to admit he did make a good pizza. The nerdy student was chowing down on a large slice of pepperoni. Chris just stared over his expensive sunglasses at the other students in the restaurant, tightly held in his hand was a specimen cup of emerald green liquid, it was the elixir. A week had passed since they'd started collecting the liquid by draining the football team and Chris had finally decided to test the elixir out on a human. Melvin’s roommate had been very encouraged by the change to Burt the cactus, and even more encouraged by the change in the football team. Everyday Chris would describe all the small changes he’d seen in the athletes, he barely breathed as he hurried out the sighting of Barrett Wington’s shoe falling off his foot yesterday. Melvin was sure that Chris has jerked off that night thinking about Barrett’s feet shrinking. “See anyone yet” Melvin said between bites of pizza Chris nodded with a small smirk on his lips. “Stefan, that German student who's staying for a semester” Chris said in a quiet voice Melvin craned his head around to look for Stefan, he wasn't being subtle. Stefan was sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the restaurant, he was alone and clicking on his phone. He was fair skinned and very blonde. How Melvin imagined all Germans to look, he was lean, but probable had a very average body under his loose hoody. “Why him” Melvin asked returning his gaze to Chris Chris shook his head at Melvin, angry at Melvin’s obvious stares. He explained slowly and with fierce patronisation in his voice “Stefan is the best candidate because he’ll be returning to Germany in a month” Melvin nodded, his voice a little shaken by Chris’ mild anger “So his change won’t attract much attention” Chris nodded and then pulled himself out of the booth. Melvin watched Chris slip past the tables and other patrons, he passed the counter where plates of food waited for the waiters to delivery them to their tables. As he passed Chris poured the sample cup of elixir over one of the plates. Chris quickly vanished into restaurant restroom, always trying not to draw suspicion. Melvin again with his eyes obviously pointed at Stefan watched the short dark haired waiter with a name tag reading ‘Zack’ place a plate of elixir soaked pineapple pizza at Stefan’s table. Chris returned, maybe walking a little too fast. He slapped Melvin on the shoulder to get him to stop staring at Stefan. Melvin looked down at his half eaten pizza slice, picking at the stringy cheese. He heard Chris swear under his breath. “What” Melvin asked without looking “He fucking left” Chris muttered, slapping the table, no one looked towards the bang in the loud restaurant Melvin looked over to Stefan’s table, and it was empty. The pizza hadn't been touched. “Looks like he got a text, and he just left” Chris explained “The idiot paid for the pizza and everything” “So…another target” Melvin asked Chris nodded “Yea….I’ll do some more searching and find someone to dose” The two roommates got up and left, Chris muttering about how stupid people were and how they never did what they should do. Chris not even letting Melvin finish his pizza. Neither of them noticing Zack the waiter with the greasy olive toned skin return to clean the table, or how Zack even though he hated pineapple eagerly ate the abandoned elixir soaked pizza on his way back to the kitchen as Paulie didn't let his waiters have a lunch break. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Sean kept pulling at his shirt, but not because it was tight or because it was riding up his belly. He was pulling at it because it was loose, it hung around his neck and stomach. For the first time in years he was standing in front of and checking himself out in a mirror. The sink below it was flushed lime green, Sean had just washed his mouth out with Mountain Dew. He’d noticed the bottle was a darker green than normal, and the taste was a little different. More savory, almost salty, maybe he’d just picked up a soon to be out of date bottle. The strange tasting beverage wasn’t taking up much of Sean’s attention though, the sight in the mirror was more interesting. Even though he looked just like he always remembered, ginger, chubby and below average, there was something different. He wasn't as plump as before, his face and neck were thinner. There was even the hint of some bone structure peaking through. Nearly every piece of clothing he owned felt looser, except for his shoes. He looked leaner, healthier, like he’d been eating right. Which was wrong, the take out boxes in the trash can a few feet away saw to that. Sean had always thought he could do with losing some weight, and the mirror was proving him right. He just didn't have the mind and will to do it. But he liked the new him looking back from the mirror. Slimmer, eyes a little brighter and not a spot in sight on his pale skin. He even seemed to be holding himself taller. He turned from the mirror and swung his shoulder bag on, it was stuffed with books, but Sean could hardly feel the weight. With a smile on his face, and without his usual setup of headphones blasting music to repel any social interaction he headed out of his room for the campus library. Sean made sure his door was locked and walked straight into a raven haired boy. It was Chris from next-door, close behind him was a quiet blond nerdy boy. Sean didn't know his name, but had seen him enough times to know he was Chris’ roommate. Chris stepped back from Sean, quickly scanning who it was who’d bumped into him. Sean smiled politely at both boys, the blond with the crooked nose smiled back. Chris though stepped forward so he was inches away from Sean, staring him down. Sean surprised himself and almost laughed at the lithe boy’s attempt at intimidation. “What do you think you’re doing” Chris sneered down at Sean The taller boy stared down at him from behind expensive designer glasses. Sean had guessed that Chris was about 6ft tall when he first saw him moving in a few weeks back, but now Sean was maybe an inch shorter then him. This revelation caused a shot of excitement to drop right into Sean’s balls, he’d gotten taller. He’d never in his wildest dreams thought he’d reach 6ft, and he was now a hair’s length away. “I’m heading to the library” Sean explained knocking himself out of his thoughts, and surprising himself with how confident he sounded. Suddenly Chris’ slightly angular face softened “Oh, you mean the Haber Library” Sean nodded, knowing this was leading somewhere. Chris just smiled with perfectly straight pearly whites. The blond boy sighed in relief, Chris must get angry at the drop of a hat. “My last name is Haber you know” Chris stated grandly Sean just shook his head at the arrogant dark haired boy. Chris was attractive by anyone’s standards, but the speed at which he could switch from mild anger to lording something over someone else turned Sean off the high cheekboned student. Chris flicked his glossy black fringe “Yes, we’re an old family, been going to this college since its founding” Sean again just nodded, adding an ‘oh really’ for good measure. He could feel his cock hardening as he stared at Chris’ pretty face, his libibo had been sky high the last few days. He felt dirty getting hard over such an arrogant jerk. “We Habers were here long before the Wingtons” Chris continued rolling his eyes at the dorm room corridor “This shit hole is all they can throw together” Sean remembered the dorm room was named Wington Dormitory, he also remembered that some guy on the football team was called Wington. He then thought ‘It’s a shit hole you live in Chris’ but he stopped himself. Chris gave Sean a friendly slap on the shoulder, it didn't jiggly like it would of a week ago. “Have a good one” Chris smiled widely, seemingly having forgotten the earlier insult Sean watched Chris and the blond vanish into their dorm room. He chuckled to himself and head out, even whistling a little tune. As he left the main doors of the dormitory his nostrils flared and his cock throbbed. There was something rich and musky in the air. He followed it. The thick stench led to the trash cans, they were piled high with trash, having not been emptied this week. Perched on a slant between two black trash bags was a cactus. A large green cactus with a dark red flower atop it. Sean liberated the plant from the trash and inhaled deeply. He only got the small whiff putrid trash, the rest of his sinuses were filled with the musk rising off the cactus. Sean hid the potted cactus behind the trash cans, he’d return for it after he’d finished in the library. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Zack Buffone, like a lot of wait staff was a drama major, and like a lot of drama majors he never imagined he’d be a waiter. But he needed the money, college didn't pay for itself, especially when you had a father disappointed at your life choices. His dorm room in the Wington Building was like most other dorm rooms, two beds, a shared desk and with the simple decorations that each of the roommates had placed around to make it feel like home. Zack had placed a few posters on the wall above his bed, all of them for Broadway musicals. Rent, Wicked and Les Miserables to be specific. His roommate Lance, a golden blonde beach boy had two posters one an idolised version of his native San Diego and the other of some band that Zack was sure he only had up because it was the ‘in’ thing to do. Zack and Lance were different people, Lance naturally athletic, he’d even taken to lacrosse at the start of the year like he was born for it. While Zack was creative, and desperately trying to make a name for himself in the college drama department. They rarely talked, but they had talked it had always been civil, mostly about how to log onto the college computer system, or about their neighbour and his noisy arguments with his girlfriend. But right now their shared room looked like a tornado had torn through it. A neatly kept pile of Lance’s business books had been strewn across the desk. The desk chair had been knocked over and Lance’s mattress had been partly pulled off of the bed’s base. On Zack’s bed lay the tattered remains of his Paulie’s Pizzeria workshirt, like something had burst out of it. Sweat had drenched the sheets and the mattress appeared to be permanently imprinted by the sudden weight of a much too large occupant. The air was thick with the ripe smell of fresh cum and the sound of flesh slapping flesh bounced off the walls. A layer of musk was descending over the dorm room, the odour of sweat and muscle. Zack was standing at the small sink and mirror that all dorm rooms in the Wington building had. This wasn’t the Zack who’d waited tables the day before, the Zack who’d come home in a sweat and collapsed exhausted onto his bed, the Zack who was already feeling the effects of the cup of elixir he’d been accidentally dosed with. A cocky smirk lined his newly chiseled face, his right arm up and flexing. He wasn’t skinny anymore, his arm was thick with muscle. The rounded bicep bulging with the slightest movement. The rest of his body was just as big as his arm. His hand every now and then would grope at the meaty pecs he now owned, his entire body shining with a hearty olive tone. His black hair was glossy and now ran over his boulder like shoulders. Zack now towered above his dorm room, having grew over half a foot. He guessed he had to be at least 6’5 now, and with over a 100lbs of extra mass. Since nothing of his would fit him he’d steal something from Lance’s closet. He doubted anything of Lance’s would be anything but skintight. He was excited, barely thinking about what could've caused his growth. He was too busy stretching out his new muscles. Zack had tried out a number of poses, learning how to get his new muscles to listen to his commands. Lance though was having a completely different experience. Between Zack's newly thickened muscle thighs and with his head painfully banging against the sink was Lance. His hazel eyes bloodshot and teary, his jaw sore and Zack’s monstrous horsedick stretching out and down his throat. Zack’s rounded bare ass flexed with each thrust as he fucked his roommates struggling mouth. Lance had given up punching at Zack’s thighs and ass after the second load of cum had been shot down his gullet. Zack left hand was gripping tightly to Lance’s golden locks, “Fuck…….” Zack said for maybe the dozenth time His voice was deeper, richer and oozed confidence. An almost natural authority, it was how he’d got Lance onto his knees after their brief struggle. The smaller blonde boy didn't know how to pick a fight. He’d punched Zack in his steel hard abs, probably thinking Zack had broken into the room. He remembered asking what Lance wanted, the blondes eyes on Zack's bulge. The newly grown muscle man cupped his crotch, the blonde's eyes only widened. Then something just clicked into place in Zack’s head and he grabbed Lance by the throat and tossed him onto the floor. He cock slapped Lance’s beach tanned face a few times, then went to force open Lance's mouth, only to find it already opened wide. That was nearly two hours ago. Zack looked down his thick smooth pecs at Lance’s spit and cum covered face, he smirked. “You enjoying that” he asked He loosened his grip on Lance’s hair, his thrusting slowed. Lance’s head moved as much as it could, he didn’t need Zack to fuck his throat, he appeared more then happy to impale himself on Zack’s meat rod. A few drops of fresh sweat fell onto Lance’s hungry eyes, the cock tight in his throat, but Lance kept sucking. Zack just boomed out a laugh “I fucking knew it, weird that I’d wanted you to fuck me when we met” His speed returning to his thrusts “Never thought seeing you choke on my dick would of been the better option” With that he pulled out, Lance gasping for air. Zack’s fat cock swung for a second before rising up to slap at his six pack. Lacne’s hands were still holding onto Zack’s huge thighs. Zack pulled him to his feet. Happy to have Lance at chest level, he bounced his pecs in quick succession. Zack caught the growing bulge in Lance’s boxer shorts and smiled. He pushed Lance towards the beds, and gave his perky ass a slap that probably stung. “Pick a bed, I want to dump this load in your ass” he ordered.
  23. WHY YOU SHOULDN’T TRUST SAUL BENNETT By absman420 “I’m home!!!!” “Tino!’ called the bigger man, opening his arms and smiling wide. The little bodybuilder jumped into his embrace.. “Daddy!” he called his husband, lovingly. They kissed -- and the bigger man could already feel the little bodybuilder’s erection pressing into him. “I’ve missed you so much!” “You’ve only been gone a week, boy.” They kissed anyway. “I know,” little Tino said. “I wanna fuck so bad.” The bigger man smiled coyly. “Horny little Tino,” he said, rubbing the back of his husband’s head while he squeezed his ass. “You wanna fuck first, or get settled?” Tino pulled away from the kissing, looking his man in the face. “Fuck,” he said, smiling. “I want to fuck. But I want to give you your present first.” The bigger man flicked his eyebrows. “Something kinky, I hope?” he asked. “You got another hot boy stashed in your bag?” “Ha!” the little bodybuilder said. “I’m sharing you with no one today. I need that big porn-star cock all to myself!” He broke their hug after a quick peck on the lips and turned to his bags. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.” For New York, for the Upper West Side, it was a spacious apartment, but Tino missed LA -- he missed the weather and his friends -- and he secretly wondered how long his hubby would keep them secluded here? They hadn’t had to move to the other side of the country because his husband didn’t want to be a porn star anymore. No matter where they went, his man was always gonna be Big Mick Masterman, whose dick was legend. Nearly eleven inches when completely hard -- Big Mick would joke about feeling light-headed when it was at its max -- his dick was so large, it would’ve looked out-of-proportion if Mick hadn’t been so big himself. Not a bodybuilder like Tino -- all cuts and aesthetics and shiny hardness -- Mick was a beast of a man, thick and strong and exuding the cocky power of the well-hung Alpha. Was he past his prime? Probably by just a hair, depending on what you considered “prime”. He’d done hundreds of movies, thousands of scenes, countless guest appearances, but no matter how good it’s been, biology is biology -- once your dick stops working, you don’t work in porn. Nobody wants a limp-dicked daddy. And Big Mick Masterman was no bottom. Since turning 50, his dick stopped behaving for him the way it did twenty years ago, when even testosterone on the breeze would get him hard. In truth, it wasn’t just his dick, his whole body was betraying him, turning into an old man right in front of him -- sagging, softening -- but for a man who’d built a whole career out of his amazing dong, Big Mick’s focus was always his cock. Once Tino dug out the little box he’d buried in his suitcase, he found Big Mick prepping the Tri-Mix vial he’d gotten out of the fridge. Tino smiled -- he’d be glad when Mick got rid of that shit. Injecting your cock to get hard….? Tino thought. Yuck! “So tell me about LA,” Mick said, pulling an insulin syringe from the drawer, using it to point to Tino’s box. “Is that my present?” “Hold your horses,” Tino said, putting the small cardboard box on the opposite counter. “I have a story.” Mick smiled slightly. “Of course you do.” Tino pursed his lips at the bigger man. He took a big breath and said, as if confessing, “So… while I was out there, I ran into Saul Bennett...” “Oh, Jesus,” Mick groaned, dropping the insulin syringe on the counter. “You wanna kill ANY chance of me getting hard, right?” “Stop it,” Tino chided. “It was a nice conversation. It wasn’t an easy decision for him…” But Big Mick was already annoyed. “Oh, come on, Tino!” he said, a touch of anger. “He cancelled my contract. I was one of the biggest names in the fucking business and he cancelled my contract because I had ED. I mean, what the fuck? He fuckin’ ruined my career, Tino!” Tino was still calm. “He feels really bad, Mick.” “Yeah, I bet! Do you know how much money he fucking lost when he cut me? Let me tell you something: Saul doesn’t feel bad because of what he did to my self-esteem, or my reputation, or my fucking life! He feels bad because he lost revenue. Saul Bennett gives a shit about nothing but money, Tino. I thought you knew that.” Tino sighed. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I should’ve just given this to you without explanation.” He handed the small, cardboard box to Big Mick, who took it humorlessly. “This is from Saul?” Mick asked. “He feels really bad, Mick.” There was a moment when Tino was unsure if Mick would throw it, crush it, or open it -- frankly, there was a moment when Mick was unsure, too -- ultimately, Mick tore the little sticker keeping the lid closed and opened it up. Two little vials held by styrofoam cushioning, one contained pink liquid, the other blue. “What is it?” Mick asked. Tino had a devious smile. “It’s a little something-something so you won’t need THAT,” he said, pointing to the Tri-Mix and the syringe. “Mixed by one of Saul’s little… alchemist friends. Apparently, it’s the latest thing to keep porn-stars on the working roster.” Mick looked at him suspiciously. “Really?” he asked, softening. Tino shrugged. “No harm in trying.” Mick looked at the box and considered it for all of five seconds -- even his anger at Saul paled next to his desire for a good erection. “So what do I do?” Smiling, Tino stepped over to him and pulled the vials from the box. He handed the blue one to Mick. “One for you,” he said, keeping the pink one, “and one for me.” “Really?” Mick chuckled. “Blue and pink?” Tino smiled, pursing his lips at Mick. “Wanna trade?” he asked. “Why? Will the pink one turn me into a girl?” “Haha,” Tino said. “No, the pink one is gonna make me able to take what the blue one is gonna do to you!” He unscrewed the cap and quickly drank his down, making a face at the taste. “He said it takes about twenty minutes to hit -- i’m gonna clean up real quick. Cum join me when you’re ready.” And with that, Tino slunk to the bathroom. Big Mick couldn’t help but look at Tino’s muscular ass as the boy exited, He was lucky Tino’d stayed with him through the whole ED thing -- a hot number like him could have anybody. The least Mick could do was indulge a trial solution -- no matter that it had been provided by fucking Saul Bennett. With that, he unscrewed the cap and drank the contents of the vial -- no taste, maybe it was a placebo. Following Tino to the bedroom, he kept the Tri-Mix handy, He was already horny -- Tino had been gone a whole week, after all, and Big Mick wasn’t a big masturbator. It took a lot of work to get an eleven-inch cock hard -- it took even more lately -- he didn’t like to waste it on nothing. Stripping his shirt off, he could hear Tino in the shower, so he knew he had enough time to get his cockring and jockstrap on. Looking at his bulky self in the mirror, he flexed a most-muscular and pinched the barbells in his pierced nipples. Whoa! -- okay, THAT was electric -- a freaking WAVE of horny washing over him. Damn, even his dick was coming to life. He stripped off his jeans and his boxer briefs and stretched a hard rubber cockring around his juicy balls -- it was difficult enough to get his huge dick through the ring when it was soft, but it was thickening up fast, further delighting Mick, though he clumsily succeeded. His dick hung there at a slight angle, looking untroubled and confident. Maybe he wasn’t in the best shape anymore, but damn if his dick didn’t make up for it. He slipped on his NASTY PIG quilted leather jock, which made him look even bigger. Flopping in the big leather recliner across from the bed, he continued playing with his nipples as he waited for Tino. It wasn’t long before he heard the shower turn off. Just in time, as far as Mick was concerned -- he was getting damn horny -- frankly, he was starting not to care if the boy was clean at all. Mick was ready for some action. And he was starting to feel confident that his dick was ready, too. Tino slipped into the room, shiny and smooth, a tiny towel wrapped around his tiny hips. Usually short bodybuilders had thick waists, but Tino’s was so small and lean that it made his ass look gigantic by comparison -- when he was in a playful mood, he joked that he should become an underwear model or a professional stripper. Slyly smiling, he stood before Big Mick’s chair and posed for him, flexing his beautiful body. “Daddy want a lap dance?” he asked, hips swaying. Tino stepped up into the leather recliner, feet on either side of Mick’s hips -- the chair was sturdy enough, they’d proved it before -- the little towel he wore around his waist fell away, revealing the soft white thong he wore beneath, his cute little balls bouncing with each thrust. “Very nice, boy,” Big Mick mumbled, stroking the boy’s rock hard quads. “Lemme see that ass.” The boy turned to imaginary music, dancing like his hips were doing the seduction. For such massive legs, his ass was still round and tight, like he was still the college wrestler he’d been when the two had met, so many years ago. Tino squatted slightly and twerked in Mick’s face, shaking his muscular glutes, the strap of his thong visible as it ran down the crack of his ass. It was beautiful. Mick reached between Tino’s legs and grabbed the boy’s package, like his hand was a cockring -- he shoved his face between the halves of Tino’s ass, immediately tasting the boy’s hot hole -- clean, but with a slight hint of soap. Tino moaned immediately. “Yeah, big daddy,” he growled as Mick shoved his tongue in. God damn that man loved ass. His rough facial hair teased Tino’s hole. Mick didn’t realize how horny he was. Fuck, he wanted this boy -- wanted to dominate him and own him. He felt like a fucking teenager who’d never tasted a man before. The strap from the thong was getting in his way, but he could feel Tino’s cock getting hard in the pouch -- why couldn’t the boy like jockstraps, like normal people? So much easier to eat his ass. He looked good in anything -- or out of anything. Big Mick’s big dick thickened in his own pouch. He took his free hand off his nipple and reached down to help himself along. His cock filled his hand and was growing fast. He would’ve commented about it if his mouth hadn’t been full -- and if he hadn’t been so damn horny. “Fuck, boy,” he said, licking Tino’s hole, “suck my cock. I need your hot mouth.” “Oh yeah, Daddy,” he moaned, stepping down from the chair, kneeling his big bod between Mick’s outstretched legs. When the little bodybuilder saw Mick’s half-hard cock, growing there in Mick’s grip, he happily replaced Mick’s hand with his, and smiled slyly as he took the bigger man’s cock in his mouth. Warm and wet -- what a mouth -- Mick could feel himself hardening. He rolled his head back and shut his eyes, enjoying the sensation of his growing erection -- his hard-on was delighting him almost as much as the blow job. Was this the effects of Saul Bennett’s little potion? He couldn’t even get mad at Saul, the mother-fucker, that’s how good he felt -- like a man. Like a fucking man. Like a fucking man who hadn’t shot his fucking load in a week. His balls felt as full as his cock. He felt Tino’s hands holding them and tickling the back of his sac -- even his balls felt bigger. Huge fucking load. Suddenly, he realized his cock was rock hard -- a teen-aged erection -- a throbbing, needful, helpless kind of erection. Familiar and nearly forgotten -- an old friend found alive -- and with it came confidence, a confidence Mick had almost forgotten, as if it were even bigger -- if that were possible for a nearly-eleven-inch cock -- or had it been that long that it had BEEN this hard? He had to fuck. God damn, he had to fuck. He had to take this rock-hard cock and fuck with it. So fucking horny. He stood then, causing Tino to lose his balance and fall back on his butt. Mick grabbed him by the back of the neck and pushed the little bodybuilder toward the bed. Tino allowed himself to be taken, loving the confidence his husband exuded -- it was like the old days. On his back, his legs open, he could feel Mick’s cock press against his hole -- throbbing, alive, it wasn’t the product of injectable tri-mix, it was a genuine, sexually-stimulated erection, and it was eager to make up for lost time. The cock may have even felt bigger as it entered Tino’s ass, or maybe it had been so long that Tino had forgotten the full extent of Big Mick Masterman -- he was glad for the reminder. Mick didn’t waste any time. Standing beside the bed, he sank balls-deep in Tino’s hole, putting the entirety of his eleven-inch cock into the little bodybuilder in a single thrust.. Tino gasped. “Holy shit, a little warm up…” But Mick ignored him. He was muttering, “Need this so bad, fuck,” as he slowly withdrew his meat, then slammed it home again. “Fuck…” “Damn, honey....” But if Mick was listening, Tino couldn’t tell -- his eyes were kind of far-away, his mouth slightly open, a corner turned up in pleasure. Mick was lost in that pleasure, the resurgence of his alpha station. It was like the old days, back in his twenties, when the world was one big hole and Mick ached to fuck it hard -- not like it had been for the last year when life was fucking him. He fucked Tino like he’d suddenly remembered how to -- he was a battering ram. He was a porn star again. It didn’t surprise either of them that he’d orgasmed as quickly as he did -- not that that really slowed him down. He barely missed a beat and kept on pounding toward number two, using his cum as lube -- it leaked out of Tino’s hole. Tino would pass out around the fifth, so he wasn’t sure where it ended -- all he knew was that hours later when he lost consciousness (from exhaustion), Big Mick was still fucking him. What the hell had Saul Bennett given him? ******************************************************* Tino woke to the light of dawn, a beam of sunshine across his face. He was on his side, spooned by Mick -- and the first thing he realized was that Mick was still inside him, that huge cock still hard, filling him past the point of comfort. Even in his sleep, Mick gently thrust in and out, like he was dreaming of a fuck. Tino was afraid to wake him. The relentless, non-stop pounding Mick had given his ass last night was enough -- he couldn’t imagine it starting again. Slowly, gently, Tino slid off Mick’s cock, his hole so defeated that there wasn’t even a “pop” when the gargantuan head came out. Mick’s cock had felt huge inside him -- bigger than Tino had remembered it, even when last it had been fully hard, years ago before last night. As Tino quietly sat up on the edge of the bed, the movement seemed to disturb Mick -- his breathing changed slightly. They’d been together long enough that Tino knew even the most subtle change in Mick when asleep. He waited a moment until he heard Mick sink back deeply, then he stood, waiting to see if that changed anything, then he took a step and turned around, just enough to glance at his man. The first thing to catch his eye was Mick’s cock -- how could it not? -- it was gigantic! Truly gigantic, as the head of it slapped the very bottom of his abs with every dreamy thrust Mick took, leaving a little trail of cum between the slit and his core. Mick’s cock had never been THIS big -- not even in his prime! Mick’s cock measured out at just over 11-inches when fully hard, formidable on its own -- the cock he had now was well over a foot long, possibly as long as fourteen inches… and substantially thicker. How on earth could Tino have taken that? It wasn’t just the cock, though the cock held his attention -- that cock would hold ANY man’s attention, gay or straight -- it was beyond possible. The stuff of fantasy. But it wasn’t just his cock -- no, it was his balls, too. Tino had never seen balls so big on any man, except maybe those guys who have injections, or implants or whatever. Because of his heavy steroid cycles, Mick’s gonads had all but atrophied, shrunken well smaller than average -- he joked that it made his cock look bigger by comparison. The balls he had now were easily in proportion with his over-sized cock, easily as big as lemons, maybe avocados. The weight of them gently pulled on the base of that big dick, causing it to pulse even more. And then Tino widened his focus and saw Mick in his entirety. It wasn’t just his cock and his balls -- it was all of him! Mick was… Mick was… Mick was massive. Diesel. Tino had been the bodybuilder -- Tino had been the competitor -- Mick was the proud daddy who watched from the side, proud of his boy, but not looking for the attention himself. He had his own audience, and he didn’t think the two should mix. Mick had loved being a porn-star -- and he joked that he had a better build for that, anyway. (Imagine Mick’s dick in posers!) Mick had always had a bulky, muscular thing going on, big and thick, but not ripped -- no perfect abs for Big Mick Masterman. No need. Though to Tino’s disappointment, Mick had been going soft lately. THIS Mick, the Mick in their bed, was a very different man. This Mick was a bodybuilder -- this Mick could’ve just stepped off the competition stage -- this Mick was muscular and ripped, heavily-veined and pumped. The only thing ruining the illusion was the body hair -- Mick had always been hirsute (his back alone kept his waxer employed full-time) -- but this morning, Mick was covered with a layer of rough, short hair -- his shoulders, his arms, everything. The stubble on his face was heavy, like he could grow a beard in a day. Was his brow a little thicker, as well? He looked like he’d overdosed on testosterone, like he was tripping on some crazy hormone sauce… Saul! THAT SHIT SAUL HAD GIVEN THEM! Is that what had done this? It HAD to have been! Horrified, Tino quickly waddled his way to the bathroom, grabbing his phone off the dresser on the way past. The first thing he did was examine himself in the mirror -- if Saul’s formula had done that to Mick, what had the stuff he’d taken done to HIM? And the answer was… nothing that he could see. What had Saul said? He’d said the pink vial would make Tino able to take what the blue vial would do to Mick. The horror of that sunk in, which caused him to relax just enough that the cum that had been inside him started to leak down his muscular thigh. Fuck... Sitting on the toilet, easily a gallon of Mick’s cum rushed out of him, wetly filling the bowl with its salty scent. Why wasn’t he sore? Exhausted, yes, but not sore. What had that shit done? He said, “Call Saul Bennett” into his phone, quietly, though he was pretty sure Mick couldn’t hear him with the bathroom door closed. It took the phone a few seconds to connect -- longer for Saul to pick up. “It’s five o’clock in the morning, Tino,” Bennett mumbled from his end. “Why the fuck you calling me at five o’clock in the fucking morning?” “What was in that stuff, Saul?” Tino said, angrily. “What the fuck did you give him?” A sleepy laugh over the line, an evil chuckle. “I guess you guys used my gift,” he said. “What’d you think, Tino? Bet you haven’t got nailed like that in a while.” “Fuck you, Saul.” Saul laughed. “I think you got all the fucking, Tino. How’d you get away from him long enough to call me? He’s not fucking anybody else right now, is he?” “No!” Tino said in a whisper louder than he’d wanted. “He passed out sometime during the night and I’m sitting here in the bathroom emptying myself out! What the fuck, Saul?” “Okay. You definitely don’t want him fucking anybody else.” “Yeah, I’ll try to stop him. You should see him, Saul! He’s fucking HUGE! Did you know that would happen, Saul? Did you know? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” “I’m telling you now, don’t let him fuck anybody else.” Tino sighed (and the final bit of cum dripped out of him). “Why don’t you want him fucking anybody else? Why do you keep saying that, Saul? What aren’t you telling me?” There was a slight pause on the other end of the phone that Tino was about ready to interrupt when Saul spoke. “Let’s just say… the stuff I gave him? Well… it’s communicable.” “What?” “It means other people can catch it…” “I know what ‘communicable’ means, Saul,” Tino sighed again, his patience nearly gone. “What did you fucking give him?” Saul chuckled again -- the bastard. He said, “I’m giving him his career back, Tino.” A beat of silence where Tino didn’t respond, so Saul continued. “Tino, what the fuck good is a total top who can’t get hard -- can’t even get hard with an injectable, you know? I mean, he totally fucked his own head! I had to give him some time off.” “‘Time off’,” Tino mocked. “You know that ‘time off’ fucking destroyed him, right? You act like it was some kind of sabbatical and you were going to welcome him back! He was done -- except for a few guest appearances, his career was all but over! Once word got out that he was given some ‘time off’ because of ED, nobody would even ‘like’ his social-media posts!” Saul Bennett sighed. “Look… I’m sorry for that. It took my guys at the lab longer to come up with a solution that I thought. But here we are, Tino! And if I understand you correctly, the problem’s solved, right? Big Mick Masterman gets a triumphant return AND a major series! It’s gonna be awesome! I got HUGE plans for Mick, Tino -- we’re gonna make a fucking fortune!” Tino sighed again, more impatiently than before. “What did you fucking do to him, Saul?” “Turned him back into a top,” Saul said, matter-of-factly. “Cranked up the hormones and turned him into a hyper-masculine super-stud. How big is he, Tino? I bet he’s fucking huge!” “This is crazy,” Tino said to himself. As he stood, he realized he hadn’t cleaned himself up completely -- Big Mick’s cum still ran down his leg. He grabbed a hand-towel and started wiping himself. He wanted to hop in the shower, but he didn’t dare wake Mick -- not until he knew what was going on. “And what did you mean when you said he was communicable?” There was a pause, again long enough that Tino almost repeated himself, when Saul confessed, “So there’s a… side effect of the compound. If he fucks somebody who hasn’t had the antidote, they… also transform into a hyper-masculine super-top, just like him. Think of it, Tino,” Saul continued, and Tino swore he was drooling, “It’s a series. Big Mick fucks some fem little twink and transforms him into another out-of-control, unstoppable muscle-top -- then we follow the fun as they transform all the major bottom boys from all the other major studios. I’m calling it ‘Fuck Zombies -- The Series!’ It’s gonna be huge, Tino -- HUGE!” Tino was nearly speechless. “But he fucked ME,” he whispered. “Why didn’t that happen to me?” A small snort. “Cause you took the antidote, Tino. I told you, the pink vial made you able to take anything the blue vial did to your husband. It’s not just that you can’t catch the virus,” Saul explained, “but physically, it made you able to take the pounding one of these guys can give you and not get your ass torn apart. You’re my Ace in the Hole, Tino -- so to speak.” “You’re crazy…” Saul Bennett’s chuckle was nothing short of evil -- super-villain evil -- he was fucking PROUD of what he’d done! “Here’s what’s gonna happen, Tino,” he said, in a patronizing tone he hadn’t had before, “I need you to get him to me here in LA -- that’s your job. Well, your job is REALLY to get him here without him fucking anybody along the way. We wouldn’t want a pandemic to start, would we? You get him to me, we film this series -- ten films, twelve on the outside -- and then I’ll release him to you, good as new!” Tino was horrified. He stood, shouting, “You monster!” into the phone. “You fucking MONSTER!” And then he heard a sound from the bedroom -- fuck, he’d been too loud! He’d woken Mick. “Oh, fuck!” he whispered. “What’s going on, Tino?” “I woke him up.” A sound then, from the bedroom. “Fu-u-u-u-uck…” -- a moan -- “Fuck YEAH!” “Oh, fuck,” Tino said, panicking. “What do I do? What do I do?” Saul said, “Turn the camera on, for fuck’s sake. I wanna see this!” Tino could hear Mick in the bedroom, trudging around, his breathing heavy, his voice rough. “Fuck yes! Oh… oh, fuck… Fuck YEAH!!!!” And then the unmistakable sounds of Mick having an orgasm -- it went on and on, as Tino’s panic-level rose. And then he was pounding on the bathroom door, a dull, repetitive thud. Tino got the camera on just as Mick broke the door down, so he and Saul saw the same thing. Big Mick stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the morning light behind him, his new mass making him even bigger than Tino expected -- he was truly a monster, a diesel freak. Muscular, hairy, radiating power -- and then the unbelievable cock that stood there, rock hard, dripping freely, throbbing along with Mick’s heartbeat. A muscle-morph made real. Tino’s first thought upon seeing Mick’s cock? “I’m able to TAKE that?” Saul’s first thought upon seeing Mick’s cock? Very different -- he saw dollar signs. He began to record the call. Mick made eye-contact with Tino and growled -- he grabbed his dick -- slowly, a predator, he advanced. “Fuck,” he muttered, crazed, incapable of rational thought. “Gotta fuck…” Tino held his hands in front of him (giving Saul a front row seat). “Mick,” Tino pleaded. “Mick, please... listen to me…” And then Mick charged, causing Tino to drop the phone as he protected himself. The phone clattered to the floor and flipped -- and Saul ended up with an up-shot of the action, seeing the whole scene from below. It wasn’t the worst porn-angle in the world. Mick threw Tino over the counter and just started fucking him -- using his own cum as lube, he somehow managed to push his freakish thing into Tino’s over-worked hole. Flexing for himself in the mirror above the sink while he fucked, turned-on by his own incredible physique, he drooled like an animal. Tino had little choice but to take it -- even with Tino’s impressive size, he was no match for the monster his husband had become. All he could do was take it -- fortunately, Saul Bennett had made him able to take it. Mick’s cock was SO big… he hated that he liked it so much. “Saul?” Tino called as Mick ravaged him, between Mick’s powerful thrusts. “Saul, are you still there?” Mick suddenly fucked him harder, angrily. “Fuck Saul…” the beast muttered. From the floor, he could hear Saul’s voice. “I’m here, Tino -- he’s spectacular! You gotta get him to me, Tino. That’s’ all you gotta do. Get him to me. Now, lift your leg a little, you’re blocking my view of his cock.” How the fuck was Tino supposed to get Mick all the way across country to LA? It was impossible. Mick began long-dicking his hole, pulling his fourteen-inch shaft nearly all the way out before slamming it all the way back in to the root. Over and over again -- Tino was nearly delirious, ecstacy and horror mixed together. Fuck. Fuck you, Saul Bennett, he thought, while being fucked. How the fuck am I gonna do this? Between orgasms, Tino started to plot. AUTHOR’S AFTERWORD: Hey, all -- absman420 here again! Feels like a cliff-hanger, doesn’t it? I mean, there’s easily a chapter (maybe two) in Tino getting Big Mick to LA -- plane? Train? Auto? -- and then, there’s as many chapters as one could imagine as Mick turns industry twink bottoms to Fuck Zombie Super-Tops before Tino does (or doesn’t) get Saul to keep his deal and release Mick from his “contract” (haha) Could be quite a series. One I don’t want to write. That said, if anybody DOES want to contribute a chapter, please feel free to add one on! I’m very cool with the IDEA of this being a series, I just don’t have the time to do it justice myself. I only ask that you reference this story -- and me -- when you submit something. Otherwise, go to town! Tattcub has already written a story thread and posted it on this forum ("Priapus Pictures") and he inspired me to write a chapter myself (the upcoming "Twink Number Twelve").
  24. Absman420

    story THE LUCKY JOCKSTRAP

    Author's Note: I wrote this story in 2017 -- a little muscle-growth, a little mind-control, and some gear fetish -- my usual tropes. Enjoy THE LUCKY JOCKSTRAP By absman420 “Gentlemen, it’s the last game of the season and you know what that means….” The boys did. Collectively eager sighs all around. Some of them murmured “lucky jockstrap” under their breath, hoping it would be them this year. Toby sat on the bench in front of his locker, shaking his head slightly -- he’d heard the rumors, but he thought they were ridiculous. There was no possible way… The Coach chuckled, his thick, muscular frame flexing as he leaned against the row of lockers. “That’s right,” he said, adjusting his own package as he spoke. “One of you boys is getting the chance of a lifetime! And with all the scouts out there looking at Goldy, you might get a free ride someplace yourself!” All of them -- Toby included -- glanced at Robbie Goldman, who was already dressed in his jockstrap and hip pads, slowly sliding his game pants up his muscular thighs. He was fucking gorgeous, built and handsome, his self-confidence radiating with the kind of casualness only possessed by the kind of guys who’d never suffered, who’d never known opposition, who’d never even had a zit. Toby hated the mother-fucker, the big muscles, the movie-star looks, the big cock that he showed off with pride in the shower. It just wasn’t fair. When he noticed them all looking, Goldy flexed his abs hard, all the grooved lines leading the eye to his big jock bulge. He winked and blew them a kiss. Most of the boys laughed -- not Toby. The Coach still had a smirk on his face -- he looked at Goldy like the boy could do no wrong. He was so obvious about it. “So suit up, boys!” he said, righting his stance to be on both feet. “One of you is about to have a helluva game!” Stuff and nonsense, Toby thought as the Coach left the locker room, glad-handing boys on the back and laughing with them. The pre-game excitement was nothing compared to the speculation over who would win the Lucky Jockstrap. “I think it’s bullshit,” said Eddie Brannigan at the locker next to Toby as he slid off his boxer shorts. “Agreed,” said Toby, pulling off his school shirt and stuffing it in his locker. “What chance would we have of winning, anyway, even if it WAS real?” Eddie bitched, picking the new, clean jockstrap left in his locker and examining it before his slid it on. “They’d just give it to one of the starters, the popular fuckers…” “Probably that douchebag Goldman already has it on,” Toby said, taking the jockstrap left for him off the hook in his locker. And then, as if he’d heard them, Robbie Goldman was standing right next to them, in his game pants and the t-shirt he wore under his pads, ripped to expose his entire, glorious core. “Did I just hear my name?” he asked, ever flexing. He saw the jockstrap in Toby’s hand and nodded toward it. “Think that might be the lucky one?” Toby barked a laugh. “Well, why not? Could be anybody.” “My guess would be you,” Toby said, pulling the jockstrap on and adjusting himself in it. “Coach has a fucking hard-on for you, anyway. Why not give your Gold Star some magical, Lucky Jockstrap?” Instead of taking his bait, Goldy shrugged -- his attitude dripped of the kind of casualness only produced by the most arrogant. “Cuz I won it last year,” he said, making his way back to his locker, “and I doubt I’d get it two years in a row. Like you could improve on this.” He motioned to his crotch. “Good luck, bitches.” With that, he grabbed his shoulder pads and jersey and headed toward the training room, muscular poetry in motion. “‘Like you could improve on this,’” Eddie mumbled under his breath as he belted his game pants. “I hate that fucker,” Toby said, stepping into his own pads. “I swear to God, I wish there WERE some kind of magic jockstrap that could make me big enough to pop that pretty-boy ass-wipe upside the head! I would fucking love that!” As he pulled his pants up and belted them, he didn’t notice his jockstrap feeling any different than any other jockstrap he’d worn in his life. He laughed to himself -- magic jockstraps! Obviously, the Coach was doing some weird, motivational thing with the team on this, the last game of the season. Maybe if they thought they were wearing a magic jock, they’d play harder or something. It was obviously a joke that had become an urban legend, thought Toby. Or maybe it was some elaborate prank on the New Kid in School -- he wouldn’t put it past this bunch of assholes. Even as a senior, maybe because he was a senior, nobody had made this new school feel like home to him -- they were all busy looking forward to college -- they didn’t have time. Toby looked forward to college, too. Sure, it meant starting over -- again! -- but this time, it wouldn’t be just him. EVERYBODY was a naive freshman. And he’d already gotten early acceptance to his Ivy-League favorite, so it wasn’t like he was worried. Just gotta get through senior year, shitty as it might be. He and Eddie grabbed their shoulder pads and headed their skinny asses to the training room along with the other boys -- all of them secretly wishing they were wearing the Lucky Jockstrap, whether they believed it was true or not. *********************************************** Things started getting weird for Toby during the very first play of the game -- the freakin’ punt return! He was a third -- or fourth -- string receiver, which automatically put him on special teams. He and Eddie were deep in the back and though the punt was clearly headed in Eddie’s direction, he didn’t signal a fair catch -- it was almost like he didn’t see the ball at all. Toby watched the ball smack Eddie clearly in the facemask, where it bounced clumsily toward him. Surprising himself, Toby caught the ball before it hit the ground and with a little twist, started running toward the opposite goal. He felt really good, easily going fifteen yards before meeting the defense -- this would be one his best return stats ever! Then, to his surprise, he passed the defenders like they weren’t even there. It seemed odd to him that such big guys moved so slowly -- he dodged them easily, almost reading their bodies and feeling their moves before they made them. He was open-running now, striding like a gazelle, feeling the strength of his hamstrings and glutes -- he felt so open and free, light and powerful. He could feel a defender approaching him from the rear, so like a rabbit, he changed his trajectory. The boy following him fell to the ground empty-handed just as Toby crossed the goal-line. Touchdown. He’d just scored a touchdown. He couldn’t believe it -- he wasn’t even breathing hard. He’d just scored a touchdown on the first freakin’ punt-return of the game! Maybe he was wearing the Lucky Jockstrap. And before he had time to laugh at his own thought, his team was upon him, cheering and smacking his helmet and his ass. “Where you been hiding those moves?” “Fuckin’ made them look like chumps!” “It’s gotta be the jockstrap!” That made someone laugh in the way of high school boys and fart jokes. “Yeah,” someone repeated. “Gotta be the jockstrap!” Then they all started in, laughing and picking at his ass. Toby, who’d never been the center of good-natured intention before, was flying high, though his own innate cynicism kept trying to rear its ugly head. He really wanted to believe that there might be some Lucky Jockstrap -- and that for some reason, HE’D been lucky enough to get it. He’d gotten the tiniest bit of wood at the thought -- his dick plumped up a little anyway -- but he kind of liked the way it felt, so it didn’t bother him. It made him feel kind of alpha male. Even the Coach patted his ass. “Good job, Toby. How’d that feel?” Toby laughed. “Surprisingly easy,” he said. “When can I go out again?” “I like your hunger,” the Coach said, “but I’m saving you. I got plans for you later.” With that, the Coach was back in the game, yelling as their punter kicked the point after. For the rest of the game, Toby wondered if he was the one. Other players were having good games, too. But every time Toby found himself on the field, he moved with strength and ease and an awareness of his body in space that he’d never felt before. He’d always been a nerd who played football because his dad made him, but now, in his last game of his senior year, he was finding a love for the game he’d never had before. And his jockstrap -- lucky or not -- felt great on his half-hard dick. It came down to the last play of the game. They were behind by a field-goal, but it was fourth down and too far to kick. Hail Mary. Coach put Toby in -- hell, ALL the receivers were in. “I need you to run, boy,” he said, as Toby, with a strange sense of confidence, trotted out to the huddle. The snap -- everybody went in motion. Like before, Toby suddenly felt like he was the only one moving in real time -- all the other players seemed to be moving slowly. It took no effort to dodge them, pass them, leave them behind. And then the strangest sensation of all -- he became aware of the ball, descending above and behind him -- he could feel its arc. And even with defenders on his tail and others crowding the endzone, Toby knew the exact right moment to break his run and leap, turning just enough for Goldy’s pass to land perfectly in his arms, like he knew it would -- right on the numbers. Picture perfect. He came down in the endzone -- touchdown! First and last touchdowns of the game, he laughed to himself. That’s when he knew he had the Lucky Jockstrap. Toby, a mediocre player at best, just scored the game-winning touchdown on the last game of his senior year -- if that wasn’t the definition of Lucky Jockstrap, he didn’t know what was! Why wouldn’t he get a hard on? His teammates were upon him, cheering and smacking him and lifting him off the ground. He even had this strange moment when Goldy ran up to him, hugging him close. “You caught it” he yelled happily. “You fucking caught that pass like you knew it was there!” “I did!” Toby replied, just as giddy. “I could feel it!” Goldy started banging their helmeted heads together. “You got the jock!” he yelled, and Toby could feel the start of Goldy’s erection pressing into his own. It was a fucking moment. The cheers and horseplay followed him all the way to the locker room -- the energy of the win had the boys at a fever pitch. Eddie danced around him like a puppy off the leash! “That was fuckin’ amazing! You were fuckin’ amazing! Gotta be the jock!” Toby had barely gotten his shoulder pads off when the Coach yelled, “Toby!” from his office door. “Toby,” he bass rumbled, an ear-to-ear smile, “get your ass in here!” A big, jealous grin from Eddie started him off. The boys cat-called him and slapped his ass as he made his way down the aisle toward the coach’s office -- it was the first time he ever felt part of the team! He was lucky -- jockstrap or not. The Coach closed the door behind them, cutting off most of the noise from the locker room -- he sat his muscular form on the edge of his desk, looking at Toby with a smile on his face. Toby stood there in his game pants and the sweaty t-shirt he’d worn beneath his pads and he felt kind of weird -- what was this all about? “How do you feel?” Coach asked, his thick, muscular arms crossed in front of his chest. “Pretty fucking great!” Toby said. “You know, for a guy who just scored the game-winning touchdown!” Coach chuckled. “Must be the jockstrap.” Toby smiled -- his dick still half-hard. He shrugged. “Must be.” “Let’s find out,” the Coach said, shifting his weight. “Take your shirt off.” And even though Toby said, “What?” he immediately found himself pulling his t-shirt over his head. “Flex for me. Let me see those abs.” Toby was more than a little confused when he put his hands behind his head and flexed his abs for the Coach. First, he was confused that he was doing it at all, and then second, he was confused as to where his abs had suddenly come from. What a rack! A tight, lumpy eight pack with deep grooves and separations -- an Adonis belt showing an obvious “V” leading into the front of his game pants. He turned to display his obliques -- why was he doing this? “What’s happening?” he asked, voice wavering, panicking -- not that that stopped him from flexing. The Coach smiled. “Relax, Toby. Don’t panic. You love flexing for me -- it turns you on.” That’s for sure, Toby thought, squeezing his abs tight and twisting his hip. If the old man wants to look, let him see. Toby’s cock thickened a little, kind of obvious itself. “Nice,” Coach said. “Lose the pants.” Toby undid the belt and the lace-front pants, then slid his thumbs behind the waistband, about to shove everything down, leaving himself naked, when the Coach said, “No, no. Leave the jock on. Never take off the jock.” And then he was standing there in front of the Coach in only his jockstrap, his half-hard cock obvious in its cotton mesh pouch. Toby calmly said, “I don’t understand what’s going on.” The Coach eyed him up and down, like he was a piece of meat, then made a motion for Toby to turn around. He obeyed, but he didn’t know why. “Very nice,” the Coach said. “You’ve gained some good size in your legs and ass. I’ll still need you to be bigger, though.” Bigger, Toby thought. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll get bigger.” And when he did, his cock twitched -- pleasure. He was so confused. “Tell me what’s going on. Please.” “Hold on a second,” the Coach said and sauntered over to the locker room door, his own massive legs swinging around each other. “Goldman!” he hollered, head through the door. “Get your ass in here!” Toby could hear the other boys laughing and joking to themselves, probably getting ready for showers. He wasn’t able to call out to them -- he just stood there, waiting. Goldy entered the office, wearing only his jockstrap and carrying a towel. “What’s up, Coach?” he asked, making quick eye-contact with Toby and smirking. “How’s our lucky winner?” “Flex for us, would you, Goldy?” Coach said. “Toby needs something to look at as I explain things to him. You don’t need to pay attention to us -- just focus on flexing.” “You got it, Coach!” Goldy said, immediately beginning his routine, flexing his abs -- his cock sprang to life in his jockstrap, beginning to stretch the pouch. Even Toby could see the guy had a big cock. He seemed to be really into posing. “You know Goldy’s going to State next year, full ride.” Toby DID know that, but when he turned to acknowledge the Coach, the Coach said, “Keep your eye on Goldy. Look at that incredible body.” Toby shifted his eyes back to the quarterback -- Goldy DID have an incredible body, so ripped and muscular. He didn’t mind watching while the Coach spoke. “Goldy’s gonna be a superstar there -- probably get drafted early -- as long as he stays focused on his game. That’s where you come in. Tell me, what do you think of him? Tell me the truth.” Toby watched the boy pose and flex, a vapid smile on the quarterback’s face. “I think he’s a douchebag,” Toby said calmly. A douchebag with an incredible body. “I can imagine,” the Coach said. “He’s a winning quarterback going full ride to State, and the pros beyond that, an incredible body, he’s gorgeous. And look at that fuckin’ cock. Imagine having a cock like that…” Toby looked at Goldman’s cock -- lucky bastard. “I can understand why you’d be jealous.” Jealous? thought Toby. Was he jealous? Is THAT what he’d been feeling? It must have been -- everything the Coach said was so TRUE. Had he let petty jealousy get in the way of appreciating Goldy for what he really was? That made so much sense. “In fact,” Coach said, “I think it would do you a lot of good to admit how you really feel, how you recognize Goldy’s natural superiority and wish that it could be you.” Toby had tears in his eyes. “It’s true!” he said, as if he were confessing. Why had it been so hard? “It’s not him -- it’s ME! I was so jealous I pushed all that negative shit on him when it was ME who was fucked up. He’s gorgeous! He’s perfect! He’s EVERYTHING! And I’m just some petty, jealous mother-fucker who’ll never be that lucky.” Goldy just kept flexing, oblivious to it all, a self-loving smirk on his face. “Feels good to get it out, doesn’t it?” And Toby did feel good, a wave of peace and ease overtook him. Everything was so clear. “Yes,” he said. “I’ve wasted so much energy hating him.” “Well, you can make it up to him. Goldy’s going to State next Fall and I need him to be focused on football, not worrying about homework and papers and grades -- that’s the stuff you like.” That was true, thought Toby. While Goldy may have been his physical superior, Toby was the brains of the outfit -- he was going Ivy League, after all. “But I’m not going to State,” Toby said. “I’ve been pre-accepted to…” “State,” said the Coach, interrupting him. “I just got you recruited to State. That’s why I put you in the Lucky Jockstrap, so the recruiter would see you making some sweet moves and snap you up. Now you can have Goldy’s back -- he can focus on football and training and you can take care of all the bullshit, the papers and the homework. Isn’t that awesome?” A smile crossed Toby’s face. It WAS awesome! It would be so much easier for Goldy if he didn’t have to get bogged down with all the stuff that Toby was so good at. Of course Toby would go to State if it meant he could help Goldy .The Coach had thought of everything. “One more thing,” the Coach said. “I need Goldy focused on football and training, not dealing with some sexual assault case or accidental pregnancy -- I don’t need girls fucking up the picture -- so there’s something else you can help out with.” “Wait a minute,” Toby said, calmly watching Goldy flex his magnificent body, “I’m not gay.” “I don’t care,” Coach said, sounding a little annoyed. “You kids and your labels. I don’t give a shit what you call yourself. My boy has needs -- you’re there to satisfy them so he can stay focused on the shit that matters: football and training.” “But I don’t want…” “Yes, you do. Now be quiet and drop to your knees.” Toby obeyed, kneeling in front of Goldy, the muscular quarterback’s sweaty jockstrap pouch right in his face, inches away from his mouth. He was repulsed.. “Look at that package,” Coach roughly whispered, squatting down next to Toby. “Look how full, how masculine.” Toby had to admit, whether it was gay or not, Goldy had a beautiful package -- he filled that jockstrap so fully. So masculine.“And look at his cock,” Coach continued. “Look how much he likes posing for us, how he gets off on it. Look how his cock gets thicker and more beautiful as it grows there in the pouch. It’s an amazing cock.” “It’s an amazing cock,” Toby agreed, and his own cock started to get hard in his own jockstrap. “Get in there close,” Coach said. “Smell his scent -- get to know it.” Toby did -- his nose was buried in Goldy’s sweaty jockstrap. He could feel Goldy’s amazing cock hardening against his face. “Kiss it,” Coach said. “Kiss that amazing cock.” Toby found himself kissing it, licking it, soaking the jockstrap in his spit. He couldn’t get enough. Goldy’s cock was rock-hard, straining the cotton webbing of the pouch to the max. Toby had never wanted anything so bad. “Feels like you’re ready,” Coach said. “Why don’t you take it out and suck it? Really pleasure him -- the way he deserves. It’s what you want.” He did -- Toby wanted it. He needed it. Frantically, he pulled the waist strap down and Goldy’s big, beautiful cock flopped out. Gorgeous. It was fucking gorgeous. As perfect as Goldy himself. Toby nearly gagged, it was so big and he was so anxious. Goldy moaned and Toby realized it was from the pleasure Toby was giving him -- that turned him on even more! Coach’s voice faded into the background as Toby worked Goldy’s cock -- he knew Coach was talking, but he couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t care. All that mattered was Goldy’s cock.. Amazing. He’d never felt anything like it -- never even considered it -- taking a man’s cock in his mouth, feeling it push itself against the roof of his mouth, the taste of his sweat and pre-cum. Giving pleasure gave him so much pleasure himself -- wave after wave coursed through him, reinforcing his desire. Nothing mattered but this -- nothing mattered but serving Robbie Goldman. Toby would do anything for him. Anything. He lost track of time as he sucked and Coach told him what he needed to know -- how he needed to feel. When Goldy came in his mouth, filling it with his salty ambrosia, Toby came himself, soaking his jockstrap in cum -- but he ignored it. He was too busy swallowing every bit of Goldy’s -- there was nothing better. No reward more fulfilling. And he wanted more. He was so lucky. ************************************************** Nine months later. State University -- the athletic dorm. The morning sun shines through the slits in the blinds, highlighting the sleeping muscular jock in striped shadows. His morning wood is quite obvious beneath the thin cotton sheets. From the darkness of the other bed, a heavily muscled young man carefully turns his alarm clock off before it rings and gingerly crawls across the floor toward the sleeping jock. Kneeling beside the bed, he carefully lifts the sheet away, exposing the jock’s glorious cock, rock hard and thickly lying across the jock’s hip. Without hesitation, he takes the jock’s cock in his mouth, gently sucking the jock awake.The jock orgasms in that moment, filling the heavily muscled young man’s mouth with his salty cum -- the first of many today. The jock has been awake for a while, but he doesn’t open his eyes or move until after he’s orgasmed. Then he casually wraps his hand around the heavily muscled young man’s head and affectionately pushes him off his cock. “Thanks, Toby,” he says quietly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “That’s how I like to start my day.” The heavily muscled young man takes the compliment and a shudder of pleasure runs through him. “As if I could resist a chance at that cock,” Toby says, standing up and adjusting his own morning wood in the jockstrap he never takes off -- his Lucky Jock. “What do you weigh now?” Goldy asks, lounging in bed, studying Toby as Toby brings him his coffee. “I was 238 at weigh-in yesterday,” Toby says, flexing seductively. “I’m getting there, aren’t I?” Goldy smiles over the brim of his coffee cup. “You know I like ‘em big.” Toby has already become too big to be an effective receiver, so they’ve made him a tight end, which Goldy thinks is hysterical. Toby’s new-found muscle size is more useful in that position -- and it allows him to train with abandon. Goldy likes a training partner who pushes him in the weight room -- and it adds to the illusion of their relationship. “I’ll get as big as you want,” Toby says, flexing his arms in a double bi. “I love being big!” “You love being anything I want,” Goldy says, chuckling to himself. “It’s too perfect!” “You deserve it,” Toby says, earnestly, kneeling at the foot of Goldy’s bed. “You need to focus on football and training. I’m happy to take care of anything else. Anything -- I’m so lucky!” “Did you get my English paper done?” “Of course. I also took two of your online midterms. I’m finishing your pottery project after practice.” “Cool,” Goldy says, rubbing Toby’s head like a dog, which makes a shiver of pleasure run through Toby. “Let’s go get some breakfast at the union and then hit the gym. I feel like pumping some chest this morning.” “You got it!” Toby says, jumping up to get changed as Goldy takes a piss in the bathroom. “You seen my yellow compression shirt?” “I did your laundry yesterday -- it’s folded and in the drawer.” “Damn,” Goldy says, coming out of the bathroom, grabbing at his crotch. “Someone’s looking to get fucked, isn’t he?” Toby laughs quietly ducking his head, sliding shorts on over his jockstrap as Goldy puts on compression pants. ”I only want to please you.” Goldy pats Toby’s butt. “Your ass in that jockstrap pleases me.” Some of the guys made fun of Toby because he never takes off his jockstrap, but he waves them off. “This jock changed my life!” he says. “The first time I put it on, I got a touchdown on a kickoff return and then the winning touchdown in the same game! I swore then that if we kept winning, I’d leave it on! It’s lucky, I tell you. It’s my Lucky Jockstrap!”
  25. THE NEW ADVENTURES OF KAKE & PEKKA (A TOM of FINLAND Rhapsody) By Absman420 It's because of the heavy, pea-soup fog that you don't see the man tied to a tree until you're right on top of him. You've been hiking the Appalachian Trail through the Shenandoah Valley, heading north back home to Maryland for the past few weeks and absolutely nothing has been out of the ordinary -- until this fog rolled in. And the man you find tied to the tree. The fog had caused you to get off the main trail, though you weren't worried about it. You knew that if you continued to head north, you'd eventually come to one of the many small backroads that criss-cross the area and find your way back to where you were supposed to be. Lucky you did, or who knows how long this guy would've been trapped here. He's hugging the tree, tied from wrist to wrist with a course rope. Your first thought is "Thank God he's not dead!" because you see him moving, struggling against his bonds. Then you realize what you see -- and you wonder, "Maybe I've stepped onto the set of a porn movie...?" He's a hugely muscular man, although fairly out of proportion in the upper body -- big arms, shoulders, a thick, bull-like neck -- with an impossibly thin waist that not only emphasizes his upper body, but also makes his ass -- his muscular bubble butt -- pop. He wears calf-high motorcycle boots on his lean, muscular legs and a sleeveless white t-shirt that doesn't even reach his waist. Most telling, the black leather motorcycle cap -- the kind worn by old-school gay leathermen channeling Marlon Brando makes you wonder if you've really encountered someone in trouble, or someone making a movie...? You call to him. "Buddy? Are you okay?" He turns his head and faces you and you're awestruck by his beauty. Impossibly handsome, a strong square jaw and cleft chin, dark hair, long sideburns, beautiful, bedroom eyes hidden beneath the shadows of his cap. He looks tired... but satisfied -- there's a bit of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. "I suppose you are going to fuck me, too," he says, and you can't quite place his accent -- Nordic, maybe. "They told me that others would come -- they promised." "How long have you been here?" you ask, shedding your backpack to access your small hatchet. "It is hard to tell time in all this fog," he says. "Long enough to make me wonder if they are sending anyone. What a waste of a morning. Not even the police could find me in all this fog." "But you're not hurt?" you ask, pulling the hatchet from it's pouch and turning to free him. "Oh, HELL no!" he says, smiling broadly. "Well, only when my cock rubs up against the bark of this tree." He laughs. "Those boys were so HUNG, too! They told me they would sending others -- I was hoping." "I'll have you free in a second," you say, preparing to cut the rope. He looks concerned, which you mistake for fear, until he says, "Are you sure you do not want a go at me before you cut me free? I mean, a handsome young man tied up and helpless and perhaps a little eager, too, yes? Look at this ass -- you would not be disappointed." He wiggles it for you, muscular and round. You don't know how to react -- you stammer. Here is a half-naked man who's been tied to a tree and apparently gang-raped and he wants to know if YOU want a piece of him, too! He takes your silence as a cue to continue. "Oh, I understand," he says. "You are embarrassed with your size! I can see that you are small, but do not worry -- I have a very talented hole, with much control and strength. I will be giving you a great fuck." "No..." you say. "No, that's not..." "Then you are a bottom only? Is that what it is? Would you like to trade positions?" Instead of answering him, you raise the hatchet and cleanly cut through the rope that binds him. When he steps back, you get your first look at the entirety of him -- and your sense of shock doesn't abate. If his backside was exaggerated, it's nothing compared to his front. His chest is impressively large, appearing to be even larger because of his tiny waist. The sleeveless t-shirt he wears clings to his over-sized nipples with the legend "FUCKER" printed across it -- it doesn't even reach to his navel. But all that is secondary to his gigantic genitals. As he stretches, his cock starts to harden -- easily as big as your forearm -- exposing the two lemon-sized balls hanging heavily behind it. "Ah, that feels good," he says, raising his arms up in the air and placing his hands behind his head -- then he looks at you and indicates his cock. "Do you want to feel it for yourself?" It is now rock hard, arching up to nearly the base of his pecs -- the head throbs a blushing red, a single pearl of pre-cum on the tip. It's nearly irresistible -- this obscenity -- you find yourself drawn to it, regardless of the insanity of the situation. What the hell is going on here? "Again you hesitate," he says. "Am I not the most perfect example of man that you've ever seen? Even in this land, I am one of the biggest and the best. Yet, you hesitate. Where are you from, outlander -- what repressed, Puritan land do you call home? America?" He laughs at his own joke, but can tell by your reaction that he's stumbled on the truth. "Oh. I'm so sorry." His dick mirrors his emotion by softening a tad, still impressive. "It's not that," you say. "I just don't understand..." He advances on you. "This is not a time for thinking," he says, smirking. "You've just saved me. NOW is the time for rewards earned." He wraps the rope around the back of your head and pulls you toward him. You fall on your knees. With his cock literally in your face, it's impossible to control yourself anymore -- you flat-tongue his big piece from base to tip. It's like licking a baseball bat made of hard flesh. "Oh, fuck yeah," he moans. "Finally." He leans against the tree he was just tied to, putting one booted foot up behind him, releasing the rope so he can pinch his own nipple -- he knows you're not going anywhere. It's so monstrously big you can do little more than lap at it, running the flat of your tongue up and down the thick shaft -- the head alone is the size of a Gallen Apple -- your entire hand doesn't even go around it. How on Earth could you be expected to put that in your mouth, let alone your ass? So you do your best, which seems to be satisfying him, if his breathing is any indication. You're hard as a rock, too -- three weeks hiking the Appalachian Trail alone, remember -- shamelessly rubbing yourself against his boot as you work his enviable cock. You've never thought of yourself as small -- your eight inches has brought you (and others) nothing but delight -- but you're a banana compared to a skyscraper next to him. You're probably gonna cum without even getting your dick out of your pants. And then you hear it -- you both hear it -- voices coming through the fog, out of the woods. "Where the fuck is he?"-- "Over here, not far." -- "Damn fog!" He speaks first, raising his head and pursing his lips. "NOW they come! And after I have been all rescued." He strokes the back of your head affectionately, then pulls you away from his softening cock. "But perhaps we should go," he says, looking in the direction of the sound. "It was a hot scene, but quite brutal. I am not sure you would fare so well against them -- they are lumberjacks... and quite large." He indicates his cock. You're immediately on your feet -- your own erection vanished -- your fear level rising. (There were more like HIM?) "What'll we do?" you ask him, sotto voce. "The road is that way," he says, pointing in the direction opposite of the voices. "It is where I left my bike." Then he smiles. "And my pants." We hear the voices again. "Where are you, Leather Boy?" one calls, the same accent as the man you rescued, the one who now seems to be rescuing you. "Are you ready for more fun?" They're close -- within a hundred yards. "Come," he says to you, motioning to follow him. "Can you run in those... things?" He indicates your hiking boots, top of the line models, like he's never seen anything like them before. "Faster than you," you say -- and you aren't nearly kidding. You grab your pack and follow him blindly into the forest, back into the dense fog. The two of you hold hands for fear of getting lost, but at least he seems to know the way, taking confident strides through the thick pine trees, this half-naked man beside you, his giant cock flopping back and forth. Somewhere in the back of your mind, it registers that this forest is much older than the one in the Shenandoah Valley where you've been hiking -- everything's different. But it occurs to you that YOU are the one in the wrong place, not the other way around. You eventually come upon a road -- although "road" is a bit misleading, barely more than a semi-paved trail through the forest. A Mountain Road, clearly used for little more than logging. His motorcycle is parked just off the packed dirt, next to one of the massive pines that make up the area, his leather pants draped over the handlebars. "There, see? Just where I left it!" "How did all of this happen?" you ask as he puts the pants on, kicking off one boot, sliding his foot through the pant leg and back into the boot again, then repeating on the other side. "I had stopped by the side of the road to piss," he says, carefully tucking his huge cock down the leg -- it reaches his mid-thigh, then buttons up. His over-sized genitals make an obscene bulge in the worn leather pants. "And these loggers came upon me." He snorts his disdain. "Loggers -- they rape the country side," he says. "And anyone they come across in it, as well." That brings his smirk back. "Come," he says, righting the bike and kick-starting the engine. "There is a Service Station a kilometer or so down the road where I work. We will be safe there -- and we can figure out what to do about you." As tempted as you are to go with him, as hungry as you are for another chance at that crazy dick of his, instead you say, "Listen, this is all just a little bit too much for me. Just point me in the direction of the trail and I'll be on my way." He is genuinely confused. "What trail? What trail is this?" "The Appalachian Trail. I can't be more than a couple miles off -- it's gotta intersect around here someplace." "My friend, there is no trail, not by that or any name. Come with me -- we will be safe at the Service Station. We can figure out what is confusing you." You are defensive. "Nothing's confusing me!" "Except you do not know where you are -- you speak of places that do not exist. Your size concerns me enough, but that you do wear such odd things on your feet. Do you not even have a pair of boots?" "These ARE boots!" He sighs, frustrated, crossing his arms before his massive chest while straddling the motorcycle. "Do you even know your name?" he asks. "Well, it's not like we've had time for proper introductions..." He barks a laugh. "Yes! And when being chased by rapists, when is the best time for this? If you must know, I am Kake." (It sounds to you like he said "COCK-uh" -- but with his accent, it's hard to be sure.) "What did you say your name was?" "Kake. K-A-K-E. It is Finnish." (Yup, "cock-uh" -- that's what he said.) You react to this, not his name. "Finnish? Really? My surname is Finnish!" He acts as if he's never heard of such a thing. "'Surname'...?" "My last name," you say. "It's Pekka!" His jaw drops. It's the first time you've seen an emotion on his face unconnected to lust -- in a way, it's disconcerting. "What?" he asks, squinching his eyebrows. "What did you say?" "My last name... is Pekka." He is fighting the smile that's breaking out on his face. "No," he says. "It's not possible. It can't be..." "What?" He studies you more closely than he has before. "But it IS!" he says, rubbing his chin. "I see it in your eyes, in the shape of your face. It's true -- and it explains EVERYTHING!" He steps off the bike and hugs you, kissing you on each cheek -- his cock has come back to life, pushing hard against the constraining leather. "Now you MUST come with me, Pekka," he whispers in my ear. "At the Service Station, there is something I must give you." You assume he means that big dick of his. And there's a part of you -- a growing part of you -- that figures, what the hell? You're not on a deadline and you've gone weeks without -- is this any different than taking advantage of any other bounty that crosses your path? It's the old saw about the hiker and the farmer's daughter... sort of. Which is how you find yourself riding down the road hugged up close to him, your arms wrapped around his waist, the smell of his heavy leather jacket in your nostrils. Between the width of his back and the vibrations of the engine, you can't help but get an erection -- you also can't "help" but press it into the back of his ass. He responds by pressing his ass back into your cock, seductively rubbing it even while riding -- (he must be a fantastic fuck, you think. He seems MADE for it.) With his left hand, he grabs your right wrist and pushes it down, until you take his leather-covered cock in your hand. As you gently squeeze it, it grows, already as thick as your wrist. As you travel out of the forest, descending down into a valley, you notice that the fog has been lifting, becoming merely overcast -- the view is not what you're used to seeing in Central Virginia. Wherever you are, you begin to seriously suspect that you're far, far from home. Far, far from home on the back of some superstud's motorcycle with the biggest cock you've ever had in your hand. Could be worse. Approaching the Service Station, you begin to wonder if you've stepped back in TIME, as well. You're reminded of rural back-woods country -- a farm house that's been converted with a false store front and two fuel tanks in the matted dirt of the front yard. The fading, hand-painted sign reads, "TOM'S -- Fuel and Motorcycle Repair." There is a small repair shop -- about the size of a three-car garage -- around back. Kake parks his bike at the door, but not before revving the loud, growling motor once as he cuts it off. Stepping out of the garage comes another man, another man built -- and clearly hung -- as well as Kake. This guy is a redhead with a flat-top so perfect you could land a plane on it. But for that, he has the same rugged good looks as Kake -- the two could be brothers. He's dressed in an dangerously small pair of greasy coveralls, open to his auburn pubes to expose his sweaty, dirty musculature, but barely containing a package that rivals Kake in size and girth -- also, you can't help but notice that he wears motorcycle boots, too. His name is spelled in cursive writing within an oval on his coveralls -- "Vicky," it reads, which makes you snort. The noise gets his attention, and he sizes you up quickly. And as he is about to speak, a truck pulls into the station, distracting us all. "A customer," Kake says. The blonde -- Vicky -- speaks, his voice deep and sexy. "I know that one -- he is only interested in my ass," he says. "Not in buying Petrol." Kake laughs. "You ass is better than the Petrol. Go take care of him -- we only want happy customers, yes? I must take my friend upstairs and give him something." Vicky looks at you and rolls his eyes. "You have a fondness for the little ones," he says to Kake, chuckling. "I think my small finger is bigger than his cock!" You almost speak up this time -- you're just about sick of these guys making fun of your dick. Eight inches is nothing to sneeze at! You want to say, Sure, you two are monsters, but where I come from, being eight inches is something most guys lie about! Instead, you watch Vicky's incredible ass as he sashays over to the truck and sticks his head in the driver's window. Within seconds, he's leaning in up to his waist, tip-toeing on the metal step -- the "customer's" big hand is holding his ass and pressing up the crack in the coveralls. "Come," Kake says to you. "He will not bother us for a while." The house is smaller than it looks on the outside, very old-fashioned with little in the way of furnishings. Kake takes you up the back staircase to his room, which is as simple as he rest of the country house -- just a big bed and a small dresser. Not even as many mirrors as you would expect. "It is simple but good for fucking," he says cheerfully. "The bed makes all kinds of good noise." You sit on it, unsure of what to do, and the bed groans a metallic sigh. "I cannot believe I did not figure this out sooner," he continues, stripping off his leather jacket and hooking it on the back of the door, revealing his incredible upper body once again, the tight little sleeveless tee reading "Fucker." "If it was a snake, it would have bitten me -- is that how you say it? I think, yes." He opens his closet door and a waft of leather-scent fills the room. "I have them in here somewhere. It has been a long, long time -- but I kept them faithfully!" "I wish I knew what you were talking about," you say, unable to help but stare at the globes of his ass. Indeed, he's made for fucking. "You do not remember," he says, "but you will. HERE they are!" He pulls out a pair of dusty motorcycle boots, almost exactly like his but they have a buckle and strap across the bridges. "What are they?" you ask. He smiles broadly. "They are your boots!" he declares, holding them out to you -- you resist taking them. "I do not joke. Look at them -- look at the inside seam." So you take them from him, these heavy, clunky things and you look inside. There, scratched in the leather -- with a nail or the tip of a knife, perhaps -- is one word, the same in each: PEKKA. "At the very least," Kake says, smiling again, "it explains why you wear those ridiculous things on your feet." "How is this possible?" you ask, examining the boots, hoping for any sign of familiarity. Your mind is racing. You think, maybe "Pekka" is a common name around here -- around here! And just where are you, exactly, that makes you think there's an "around here?" "As I say," Kake says, leaning against the wall, sexy even when he wasn't trying, "it makes complete sense, given the parts I know. My friend Pekka loved the lumberjacks, the mountain men -- he loved the brutal and clumsy way they fucked, their big cocks. And one morning, one morning like today, thick with fog, my horny friend Pekka disappeared during his hike to their camp. Days later I found his boots deep in the woods -- I have held them ever since. That was long ago, though time is difficult to feel here. But now you reappear, looking weaker for sure, like you've lost your manhood, without boots -- well, it all makes sense. You are back! My Pekka has returned to me!" "But... how...?" He waves you off. "'How' does not matter," he says, gently touching the side of your head. "'Why' does not matter. All that matters is you are back -- you are finally back. Now, put on the boots and be whole again." Okay, so you're sure you're the victim of mistaken identity -- however incredible it would be to actually BE this Pekka of whom he speaks -- but you're not against putting on a costume and doing a little role-play, either. If the most incredible man you've ever seen in your life wants you to put on some boots before you fuck, you put on the boots, right? There's humor in the way he holds your hiking boots, like they were some dead animal carcass or the laces were snakes or something, after you've untied them and stripped them off. He tosses them deep into his closet, as if even looking at them will ruin the illusion. Whatever -- you still wear your thick cotton hiking socks, the most comfortable in the world. The boots are dusty, which to you is no big deal, and incredibly well-worn, like this "Pekka" never took them off. Kake apologizes for it. "At least I kept them," he says, rubbing the leather that covers his cock. "Perhaps we will stumble across someone who wishes to shine them, perhaps even lick them, yes?" This thought gives his dick a jolt, pushing it that much further down his thigh. "Perhaps that someone will even be me..." You chuckle, saying, "Tease," while sliding on the right boot. And the coincidences continue to pile up -- the boot fits like it was made for you. You're... shocked at how comfortable it is, how beautifully it supports your arch, pads your heel -- the leather is supportive, yet yielding. You've never felt anything like it. Suddenly, this scene has become less about acting -- no need to pretend fucking in boots is hot if fucking in boots IS hot... "It fits!" you exclaim. Kake is unsurprised. "Of COURSE it fits," he says. "They are your boots." So you put the left boot on and you're jubilant when it fits the same way -- no, more. More than ecstatic. You're... You're hot. You're turned on by them -- by you in them. You stand, and even your stance is more confident, more manly. More sexual. You start to get a hard-on, your dick coming to sudden life beneath your cargo shorts. No, more than a hard-on -- it's almost like your dick is thickening, but not getting harder -- like it's growing. It makes you feel confident and masculine, feelings you do your best to encourage, rather than frighten away. Because fear is one of the first things to disappear, followed quickly by shame and guilt. You love how it feels to be a man, to get hard and be comfortable with your body -- with your beautiful, masculine phallus. Wearing these boots reminds you what it's like. What it used to be like. And your clothes are getting tighter in the ass and thigh, but looser in the waist, and nearly painful in the crotch. Your whole body's getting an erection, swelling and growing more muscular. The bigger you get, the more confident you become, the more erect you become and the more turned on you become, which causes you to get bigger, continuing the cycle. You don't know what's happening -- you don't CARE what's happening -- just that wearing these boots is helping you remember what it is to be a man. No... what it is to be a gay man -- the ultimate gay man. You are Pekka. You realize it with a clarity and a simpleness that makes it impossible to deny, even if you'd want to deny it. You remember everything as if your brain suddenly found all the forgotten neural pathways. You remember your homeland, your backstory, your hunger for woodsmen and sailors -- visiting a logging camp staffed by three horny brothers in a water-colored haze -- your nearly insatiable need for cock -- in your mouth, down your throat, up your ass, all at once. You are the ultimate expression of gay male sexuality and pride. Your cock is huge again -- you are restored. Pekka is once more. Your upper body ripples with muscle. Your pecs are nearly out-of-proportion with the rest of your body -- your nipples are larger than a 10-markkaa piece, full and inviting. Your skin is so smooth, it shines like a delicate pencil-on-paper drawing. Your chest and your ass are your best bodyparts, as they've always been. Your big, bulbous buttocks can take a battering from the biggest men and bounce back for more. It's hungry for a fuck right now -- it's been so damn long... Fortunately, Kake is there -- and few men have bigger cocks than Kake. You grab it through the leather even as you pull him in for a kiss. He immediately begins massaging your ass as his tongue slips deep into your mouth. He spins you around, so you're gripping the metal bedframe, and he presses his bulging package into the crack of your ass, reaching around your torso and roughly pinching your gigantic, tender nipples. "Do you remember now, Pekka?" he whispers gruffly. "Do you remember how much you love my cock up inside you?" "Fuck me, my brother," you answer, your voice back to its sexy, gravelly timbre. "Fuck me the way you used to -- the way you did before I got lost. Fuck me until those memories of that other place fade away to nothing. Fuck me back to Pekka." He chuckles slyly and drops to his knees, slipping his fingers into the hem of your cargo shorts and yanking them down your muscular legs, burying his face into your deep crack and attacking your hole with his tongue. You moan -- it's so good, so familiar -- and you pinch your own nipples, your cock springing up and slapping your upper abs. He's so aggressive, spitting and licking, lubing you up for that gigantic cock of his -- it's been so long, you're liable to be ridiculously tight. What a great fuck this will be. What a way to come back. (Hopefully, you've returned before the fleet rolls into Helsinki.) And just as he pulls out that magnificent cock and touches it to the bud of your hole, there is a commotion just outside the window, down in the lot. You both see two pick-up trucks pull into the station and several huge, gruff men step out. "Those damn lumberjacks," Kake says, his huge erection hanging out of his leather pants. "Looks like they found us after all." You smile. "That's okay. I think I'm more than able to handle them now." Looking up, they see you both in the window and -- monstrous dicks swelling -- yell for you to come down. "Where will we fuck down there?" you call. "On the gravel? Come up here and use the bed like civilized men! Fucking lumberjacks!" As they lumber up the stairs, you help Kake strip off his leather pants, easily taking the head of his cock in your mouth -- Pekka will show these lumberjacks a thing or two, you think, as the mist finally burns away to reveal your new world, and a hunger that you'd nearly forgotten completely takes you over. You are Pekka. And you and Kake are together again -- and you will fuck the world. END [AUTHOR'S AFTERWORD: I know it's unusual for the author to address the audience AFTER the work, but I figured if I got all intellectual in a foreword, some might not read the story, figuring it to be too cerebral, so I'm commenting here. Hopefully, you've taken the time to clean up first (hopefully, there's a need for you to clean up!). As a young gay man in the 1980's, Tom of Finland had a major impact on me, how I saw myself, and how I saw the gay community. He showed me that gays could be strong, masculine men to whom sex was a pleasure, not a punishable offense. In his images were the men I wanted to be and, in a funny way, idolized. I've had a "man wakes up in Tom of Finland World" story floating around in my head for a number of years, but it wasn't until I recently read a new, complete collection of Kake cartoons that the penny -- or in this case, the markkaa -- dropped and I was able to craft the story. Clever readers may recognize some of the images that pack this text. Most of the settings are based on specific ToF drawings, although I've taken some liberties with the physical look of Pekka. (Pekka appeared in a water-color series that Tom did in the 70's -- although Pekka's appearance is much more "classic 70's" -- sandy blonde requite with cheesy mustache -- I've given him the standard 1980's ToF body, MUCH more muscular and thick.) Of course, my hope is that readers unfamiliar with Tom of Finland can enjoy this story, but those who are fans can find some of my little in-jokes and nods to the Master. Please let me know one way or another if I've succeeded. I have strong feelings about this piece and want to know what you all think. Thank you for your indulgence. Please -- if you haven't already -- search out Tom of Finland's work. His drawing will speak to you and you may just like what you hear. Absman420 or... Tom of Maryland Oct09]
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