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  1. If you haven't read part 1 yet, click here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/18290-the-bodybuilder-pandemic-prologue/ Enjoy Part 2 - Chapter 1 - Waffles Harvey watched incredulously as Bjorn once again picked up his fork with gusto. A shiny drop of syrup dribbled down his chin. He looked like he was in heaven. “You might want to slow down there buddy,” Harvey said. Bjorn stopped chewing for a moment to consider this, but only a moment. Between mouthfuls of food he stammered “I feel like I haven’t eaten in years. These are awesome.” He pointed his green eyes at Harvey’s half eaten waffles. “You going to eat those?” Harvey pushed his plate forward in response and Bjorn got to work on them. “So uh, you said you’re in school?” “Yeah. Computer science. Year 3.” “And you’re not a bodybuilder?” “Dude, do I look like one?” There was real question in his eyes. He had clearly forgotte that, yes, he did in fact look like a bodybuilder. “You do, though maybe not for long.” Harvey glanced at the pancakes and then back at Bjorn, eyebrows raised. To his surprise the massive man sitting across from him dropped his fork and pushed the plate away. “I was just kidding! Besides, big guy like you needs the calories I’m sure.” Was he flirting? Harvey considered this for a moment. He realized he probably was and that was okay. “Nah, you’re right. I don’t know what’s going on but this is my chance. I’m not going to blow it by getting fat!” “Your chance at what?” Before he could answer the waiter appeared. “How are you two fellas doing?” He stared at the bigger man. Harvey might as well been invisible. Bjorn looked at Harvey, clearly suddenly shy. Harvey rolled his eyes and answered for his awkward new friend. “Great. Thanks. Just the bill please.” Bjorn started to protest Harvey paying for the whole bill, but he wouldn’t hear it. The waiter scooped up the plates and turned towards the kitchen. --- The waiter’s name was Kiran Buckley. He was 22, enrolled at the same college as Bjorn, and did not want to be at work. He ran his tongue across his teeth back and forth. He was nearing the end of his shift and couldn’t wait to be off work. He put the plates down for the Waffle House’s dishwasher and turned to his coworker, who was sipping a cup of coffee and also feeling pretty done with the night’s work. “Did you see the freak at table three,” he said to her. “He’s hot, you should give him your number.” “I don’t go for big guys like that. Not my type.” “I thought gay guys were all about the muscles and big dicks.” “Not me.” She shrugged and put her attention back into her coffee cup. Kiran stared at the bodybuilder chatting and the little older guy he was with. He had half-lied to his coworker. It was true that he usually wasn’t interested in muscle, but something about this guy cuaght his attention. He was different than the loud obnoxious jocks that sometime came in and made Kiran’s shift a living hell. The bodybuilder was quiet, shy actually, and sort of reminded the waiter of himself… He looked at the plates he had just cleared. Still a few bites of waffle. He looked around, this wasn’t his first time doing this. He wasn’t even hungry, he just liked the thrill of it. He stuffed the last bites in his mouth and gulped them down. “That’s disgusting.” His coworker’s eyes judged him over the steaming cup of coffee. She took a sip. “You’re going to get bodybuilder cooties,” she joked. “What even is that?” Kiran rolled his eyes. “It was just a joke.” “You’re a joke.” She laughed. “Probably. C’mon, half an hour to close. Lets get everyone paid and out that door.” “Okay.” The waitress emptied the rest of the coffee down her throat and set it down. Her and Kiran parted ways, both with credit card machine in hand-nobody paid with cash anymore. Kiran first hit up the bodybuilder and his friend. They paid and left. He went from table to table and slowly the late night clientelle of the Waffle House began to trickle out. As he made his way around the restauranthe found himself feeling restless, perhaps a little hot too. He tugged at the collar of his uniform as he felt a bead of sweat run down his back. Kiran hated being sweaty, even though it basically came with the job of waitering. “That’ll be 22 dollars,” he said to a sleepy looking couple in a booth by the window, he placed the credit card machine on the table with a loud THUNK. “Woah, sorry there, little heavy handed tonight.” The couple ignored him as the man inserted his credit card and began tapping on the buttons. Kiran flexed his hand open and closed in front of his face. He watched as little muscles bulged and undulated in his forearms. That was weird. Did they look bigger? They definitely looked bigger he decided. He also noticed some big veins crossing them that he’d never seen. Gross. “Hey,” the male patron tapped Kiran on the elbow. “We’re all done here.” “Thanks,” Kiran said distracted. “Have a good night.” He looked at his coworker with an irritated grimace and she came over to him. “You okay Kiran? You look a little… Pale.” “No. It’s too damn hot in here.” “No it’s not.” She looked at him for a beat before her eyes grew wide and a mischievous grin spread across her face. “Oooooh, told you, bodybuilder cooties.” “Shut up.” “Okay,” she turned to attend to some more tables. “No, wait. Can you finish up? I think I need to use the bathroom.” She tossed her hands up and shrugged, “whatever.” Kiran headed towards the bathroom. His head swam and his steps felt heavy and awkward. Feeling completely off balance, he swayed slightly as he cut his way through the sea of diner tables. He suddenly felt really heavy in his crotch, like a massive warm mass had settled in his cock and balls. He felt the former expanding as it began to grow hard. Not now, Kiran thought, that’s weird as hell. He wasted no time slipping into the staff washroom and slamming the door shut behind him. He locked it and jiggled the doorknob to double check the lock. Kiran didn’t know what was going on but the pulsing heat from his crotch and whatever affliction had taken over his body promised him that privacy would be an asset in the coming minutes. Kiran tried to worry about the sick feeling that enveloped him. His body ached as if he was in the worst phase of a bad flu. And he could feel his heartbeats in his head, each with a dull thud of pain. But he couldn’t focus on those things, all his attention was on his swollen, throbbing cock. “What do you want?!” He whispered angrily to it. It didn’t reply, but he stumbled forward awkwardly as the seat of his pants suddenly gave out. He felt behind him and gaped in confused shock. The globes of his ass had bubbled with muscle so much that they tore right through his jeans. He flexed and bounced them with his hands still feeling himself appreciatively. “Well I won’t complain about that,” he whispered to himself through gritted teeth. He suddenly had an odd, and somewhat horrible idea. What if his whole body was changing like his ass? Kiran didn’t mind having a muscled bubble butt, that still fit his aesthetic. But he’d be damned before looking like that bodybuilder freak from table 3. The palms of his hands slowly made their way up his hips, over some abs which did feel slightly blockier. That’s okay too, he thought. He winced as he felt them move over and then come to rest on a pair of newly juicy pecs. “Ah shit,” he said, not bothering to whisper anymore. He looked in the mirror and everything seemed to happen at once. He saw and heard his shirt begin to give out as his chest heaved through it. A split began in his collar and slowly crept down towards his abdomen as the thick muscle behind it swelled bigger and harder. As his shirt tore away there was no mistaking what he was becoming. His arms were stuffed inside his sleeves with a hose like vein protruding from them and running down his biceps towards veiny ham-like forearms. He looked at his hands with little recognition. The dainty fingers of Kiran past were replaced by meaty sausages. Texting is going to be a lot harder with those, he thought dryly. A pang from his dick brought one thickened hand down, and he gave himself a couple tugs before pulling his attention back on the mirror. How the fuck do I stop this?! He thought with renewed panic. Kiran had been so busy staring at the expanding musculature of his body that he hadn’t bothered to glance up. But if he had he would’ve been horrified to find a face that wasn’t quite what he was used to. He had all the same features, he was unmistakeably Kiran, but the edges of his face were sharper, more square. To most people he would now look much older than 22 now, but to those in the know he’d look like a 22 year old that had been hitting the juice hard since his teen years. He sighed a little as he felt his heartbeat begin to slow, the wooshing left his ears and the full effects of his transformation were clear to see. His sleeves had since split apart and his oversized limbs hung from the tatters awkwardly, giving them the look of a dumb ape’s. His pants were obliterated, revealing massively muscled quads, hams, and calves that were covered with cords of veins. His cock stood proudly from his overdeveloped lower body, as if to signal its appoval. Kiran put a beefy hand around it with the intention of relieving the tension that still throbbed uncomfortably there, but it flinched away as he heard a knock at the door. “Yeah?” He managed to yell out. He was both shocked and not-shocked to find that his voice had lowered into a smooth growl. “First off,” his coworker began, “you sound like shit and I hope you’re okay. But more importantly you better get out here and look at the news.” “Uh.” Kiran couldn’t imagine coming out of the bathroom looking the way he did, no matter what calamity was happening outside. “Unless you’re still puking or whatever. Then just look on your phone.” Kiran heard her footsteps retreating and fished his phone from the wreckage of his jeans on the floor. There were multiple news notifications from just the past few minutes. He pressed the first one with a clumsy oversized finger. A headline appeared: MYSTERIOUS ILLNESS: RESIDENTS ADVISED TO STAY INSIDE. He scrolled down. ‘Multiple cases have been confirmed of an infectious agent that causes spasms, confusion, and rapid muscle growth. So far transmission has only been observed from sharing body fluids. All residents advises to stay home until further information.’ Kiran sat back on the cool tile of the bathroom, cushioned by the powerful globes of his bubble butt. He tucked in his hairy diamnond shaped calves and let his head fall against the wall. His mind immediatley flashed back to the bites of that bodyuilder’s waffles and for the second time that night he said to himself “ah shit.” For more like this and to continue the story please follow me on Patreon (currently running a promo where every new patron gets a custom story - just DM me on Patreon after subscribing).
  2. Guest

    no sex Have A Drink

    Based on Linkin’s Giant Morph’s LGM Drinks As I closed the door behind me I could hear him banging around in the kitchen. I swear he uses every pot we own when he cooks. My keys click together as I try to stuff them in my pocket with my shaky hand; I was probably a little too excited to show him the surprise I had for him. I stepped around the corner and my suspicions were confirmed. The sink was full of dirty dishes and those that were still in use were scattered all over the counters. His back was to me and I could tell he was lost in his own world. I set my bag down heavily on the table and the sound seemed to break through his mental bubble. “Hey! Good, you’re home. I’m just finishing up my meal prep and then I’m going to get started on dinner!” He turned to face me, wiping his hands on his messy shirt. I had to admire him, he wasn’t much of a cook but in his dedication to grow bigger he had learned slowly from YouTube tutorials and old “The French Chef” reruns. I don’t think he actually cared to make anything Julia made,nI think he just thought she was fun. I took him in for a moment. We were both pretty heavy before we met and he had started his fitness journey a while before I had. Although he had slowly started putting on muscle after his weight loss he was still carrying a little extra here and there. You could tell he lifts at the gym but I wouldn’t say he was near being thought of as a gym rat. His red hair was a mess as usual and his shirt looked like he had tried cooking on it. “Have an accident?” I question, pointing to his food covered shirt. He looked down and laughed, trying to wipe the excess bits off of him. “I couldn’t find a lid that fit so I made one fit. It uh, ended up popping off. It actually hit the ceiling…” I followed his finger above the stove, expecting to see more food splatters, but was met with a large lid-shaped dent. The land lord is going to love that. “Why don’t you take a break and I’ll cook dinner?” My heart began thumping as I reached for the can in my bag. “You can drink this while you relax.” I set it down in front of me, taking extra care that the label was facing him. I could see his body tense as his eyes went wide. “How did you afford that?” he mutter as he eased over to the table to touch it. “I held up a bank.” His hand withdrew quickly from the can and I laughed. “Brennan, do you really think I could rob a bank?” “Wull, no! I don’t know, maybe!” he defended, reaching for the can again. “We don’t make enough for this. You wouldn’t be able to afford this with a raise, or even a large bonus. This is the LGM Power Drink. There is a reason they aren’t cheap.” He slowly turned it in his hands, almost as if he didn’t believe it was real. “You’re right, we can’t afford it. Nor can we afford the other one.” I smiled as I pulled out the second can, the LGM Giant Drink. He set the can he was holding back down on the table. “How.” He demanded. I had taken off work early so that I could drive to the store they sold the drinks at. Walking in it seemed like just another supplement shop, only really high end. I’m surprised it was empty. When the drinks had first come out it seemed like they were selling like wildfire. The Power Drink was like an instant steroid, making you pack on pounds of muscle in minutes. The Giant Drink made you almost inhumanly tall. The only problem was that the drinks were extremely expensive and you could only have one, which wasn’t revealed until later. Once you had been changed by the formula it wouldn’t work again. I guess a lot of people decided not to bother with it if it was only ‘one and done’. When I got up to the counter I was surprised to be approached by an average looking gentleman. He had a trim but muscular build and wore a fitted button up red shirt with khaki pants that hugged his thick legs well. “How can I help you?” He had asked with a white smile. “I just had kind of a dumb question for you. Is it possible to get the LGM Drinks by making small payments or does it all have to be up front?” I nervously asked, already feeling like I knew the answer. “Unfortunately we require that all payments are made up front, it’s policy.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it didn’t used to be but after you get burned a couple of times with people benefiting from the product and skipping out on payments, things have to change.” I nodded in agreement and was about to thank him when a woman came storming in with a man in tow. I stepped aside as she got to the counter and slammed two cans down. “My husband bought these behind my back using our money but I do not want them. I would like to return them for a refund.” I could feel the waves of anger coming off of her and I was amazed at how well she kept her composure. Her husband seemed like he wanted to protest but he stayed silent. The sales rep seemed hesitant. “I apologize, ma’am, but since this product is considered a ‘food’ product, store policy is that once it has left the store it cannot be returned for fear of contamination.” I could see the tendons in her neck twitch. I was expecting her to freak out but she must have been brought up well because she slowly grabbed the cans and turned to her husband. “See, babe, now I have to take them.” He smirked at her, holding out his hands for the cans like he’d won. She spun around on her heels so fast I’m surprised her ankles didn’t break. She forced the cans into my hands with a wild look in her eyes. “You want this stuff? Here, take these.” She spun around just as fast as the first time to reface her husband. “Honey,” he wined, “You can’t! Those were a lot of money!” She stuck a finger in his face. “Exactly! Money you spend without talking to me about it first. Money on something that changes you. Maybe spending thousands of dollars and getting nothing will teach you to be smarter next time. You do not get to do what you want behind my back. You want to do that, divorce me.” She stormed out of the store just as quickly as she came. Her husband stared after her for a moment, turned to me and debated on whether or not to take the drinks back. “Good luck.” He spat and hurried out to chase her down. The clerk and I stood for a moment, stunned at what had just happened. “Do you want a bag for those?” he offered, breaking the silence. “So she just gave them to you. Just like that?” Brennan asked skeptically, raising his eyebrow. “I know it sounds made up but honest, it’s true.” I raised my right hand to help testify. He stared at me for another moment and then seemed satisfied. “Alright then,” he said, clapping his hands together, “which one do you want?” I shot him a puzzled look. “These are for you. I thought you wanted this?” I protested, pushing both cans towards him. He pulled back a chair and sat. “I do! But I know what these things can do to you and I don’t want to be a complete freak. I know you’ve wanted to be huge too. I’m not taking both drinks.” He crossed his arms defiantly. I scowled at him for a moment but he was right. Although I planned on giving both to him I was a little mad at myself for doing so. He wasn’t the only one on a body transformation journey. I was 5’8” and still carried a good extra 30 lbs. I had worked my muscles to be more solid and less soft but they weren’t bigger by any means. “How about this. We’ll split them. We’ll each take half of both drinks. Deal?” He held out his hand in a corny fashion, as though he really expected me to have to shake on it rather than just agreeing. I grabbed his hand with mine and gave it a good pump. He smiled and got up from the table and grabbed four glasses from the cupboard. “You didn’t use those while cooking?” I teased. “Shut up.” He teased back. He poured each drink fully out into one glass. The cans weren’t transparent so he wanted to see how much was in each can before splitting it. He then poured half of each drink into a different glass, and then switched and added the other half into its opposite. “Quite the process.” I remarked as he handed me one of the glasses. “Don’t knock the process. It’s science!” he replied in a bad Einstein impression. We laughed and stared at our drinks. “Do we really want this?” he questioned as he looked at me. “I know you do. And I guess I do too. Things will change but we’ll do it together, okay?” He nodded. “Okay. On three?” he raised the glass to his lips. “Why don’t you go first? That way we aren’t so involved with our own changes we miss out on each other’s?” As I said that a wave of excitement rolled through me and I could feel myself getting hard. He took a small sip to taste it, then chugged the rest of it back in a few gulps. “How is it?” I asked as he frowned slightly and rubbed his stomach. “It’s like a flat, fruity soda.” “Flat? One of the selling points was that it was supposed to be carbonated like a soft drink…” I grabbed one of the cans to look for an expiration date but could find anything. Brennan’s moans brought me back out of my thought bubble. “Are you okay? Are you in pain?” “I’m not in pain,” he breathed, a look of pleasure washing over his face and I saw his shoulders relax, “I actually feel really good.” I looked him up and down to see if any changes started happening and I saw his crotch begin to stir. I could see his flaccid cock begin to swell in his shorts, stretching down his leg. He was feeling good. Really good. I hadn’t seen him this hard before. I guess if everything else was going to grow, this was going to grow to match… He started to stretch his arms and legs, feeling something I couldn’t see. Moans escaped his lips and he ran his fingers through his hair. Then it started to happen, coming almost in spurts. His shoulders stretched wider and his neck shot up. His femurs began stretching up as his arms stretched down. I watch his feet begin to creep along the floor, the fabric in his socks began to strain against his toes. The crotch of his pants pulls tight as his cock becomes erect, then pulls tighter from his glutes beginning to swell. Abs began to poke out from under his shirt as his torso stretched, the fabric of his shirt pulling tight. It began to be uncomfortable for him and he pulled at the collar becoming too small for his swelling neck. He pulled at it and his shirt ripped in his hands. We both stared in shock, he hadn’t been able to rip clothes off himself before, he’d tried. The seam on his shorts began to rip as his thigh swelled and I watched as his toes finally broke free of his socks. His swelling hands began to pull at his shorts but they were clumsy as his fingers grew thick, the knuckles bulging. His shorts were too tight against his thighs, his fingers too big to get a grip on them. He thrust his hips forward and flexed and the seams popped enough for him to finish the job. He now stood before me, completely naked and still swelling bigger. His balls had to be the size of large kiwis and they bounced as he shuddered with pleasure and growth. His pecs swelled and I could see a valley begin forming between them, his nipples stretching and pointing down, drawing my eyes to the large shadow his inflating pecs were creating on his abs. His abs rippled and bulged, almost squishing against each other even though he was stretching his back. I could see his arms begin to lift up as his traps grew, his biceps swelling bigger than softballs. I could see the stretch marks from his former fat days start to appear, red from being reopened. He was getting big. His red hair brushed the ceiling and he crouched a little to make sure he didn’t bump his head but his legs stretched unexpectedly and I heard his head smack it. Our ceiling was 7’ and he was having to crouch not to hit it. His dick was a rod, longer than my forearm, and thicker. This must have felt fantastic for him because a thick stream of precum drippled from the swollen head. His calves bulged and had to be thicker than his original thighs. He pulled his chair out with a massive hand and plopped down on it, his massive bubble butt practically hanging off the side. The wood cracking as he sat, I’m surprised it didn’t break. He stretched out his massive frame and shuddered and then relaxed, his huge chest heaving to catch his breath. “I think,” he moaned as he rubbed his thick hands up and down his massive thighs, “I think it’s done. How, how tall am I?” I ran to our junk drawer and grabbed a measuring tape. “You’re too tall to stand, lay down.” I instructed and watches as this now massive man maneuvered to the floor. He placed his large feet on the wall so I would have something study to start from. “7’2”.” I declared. “I don’t know what you would weigh though and I don’t think our scale will hold you.” He just looked at me and smile. “Your turn!”
  3. Preface I worked on this one for quite some time in the Unfinished section. I haven't changed or added anything since April this year. There might be linguistic errors, that I haven't been able to spot yet, but there's no reason to hide this story over at Unfinished stories anymore. The prefix No sex is formally correct, but there is some sort of tension between the two male characters, so straight readers are warned. But he seemed so NICE? You felt betrayed. Or, expressed in a better manner: You didn't exactly know, what you felt, but you hadn't expected this from him. You had first got to know him online at one of those muscle-growth sites. He seemed to share your obsession and your fantasies, and, from what he wrote in the sub-forum about exercise, you had to conclude, that he knew what he was doing at the gym. It surprised you, when, after a few private messages, it turned out, that he lived in the same city, as you did. You agreed to meet at a rather average bar a Friday night. You kept looking for an average guy with any obvious signs of working out, but when THE MUSCULAR PRESENCE entered the bar and guessed correctly who you were, reality began to feel slightly unreal. HUGE wasn't a word, that was enough to describe him. THE MUSCULAR PRESENCE approached you, said hello and mentioned your name. It was too good to be true. If anyone would be able to give you the training-advice you needed, this was the one. Kindness and a sense of humour in his warm brown eyes. An air of teddybear over his face, with its brown buzzcut hair, chestnut beard and powerful chin. The scent of anti-perspirant mixing with the sweat from his revealing compression shirt, and with the scent of his leather jacket. Denim-clad manspread. Looming wide-shouldered presence. The lump in your throat. The outline of his pecs and his pec-ravine visible through the compression shirt. The outline of his abs through the compression shirt. His looming, wide-shouldered presence ... The living embodiment of friendly, confident masculinity. Present. Close to you. Hard to think. You, answering his questions and remarks with "yes" and "no". You had to gather yourself. What did he say? Showing you something? Well, yes, of course ... Perhaps three stations with the Underground. Not the most tidy part of the city. He had got a key to some backdoor into a non-descript brickwall building. A grey and sparely lit corridor. Another door: Robust door of metal plates. Two locks. Dark. Brett switched the electric light on. Revealing the Contraption. A feeling of alarm. What if he was a weirdo? What if ... a violent pervert? The dangerous-looking Contraption. One part Pec-Dec machine. One part torture chamber, perhaps? One part horror film equipment. What could he possibly ... Your jacket on a hook. He taking your shirt off. But ... No! Wait! You didn't agree to ... And then, the dizziness. Your trousers. Changing your underwear into something ... something tight, glossy, with metal threads woven into the fabric ... Dizziness. Big hands. Helping you down. Sitting in the Contraption. A glass of water. Or not water. Dizziness. Or not water. Brett saying something. "Told me, you would like it." Brett. Big. Tall. Close. Present. Those eyes. Kindness and a sense of humour. Why would he ... Why would he be doing this? Brett's big powerful hands on your naked shoulders. Dizziness. Arranging your body. Hands? Your hands in ... gloves? Inside each side of the Pec-Dec handles. Arms ... to your sides ... your chest ... protruding ... Brett's big powerful hands. Putting your feet into ... into too big high-neck trainers ... Why? Dizziness. Brett plugged the cable connected to your underwear, the cable connected to your new high-neck trainers and the cable connected to the Contraptions into some ... hard to think ... some Machine ... You were sitting in the Contraption. Connected to it. Your hands, your feet and your dick connected to it ... FEAR. You felt betrayed. Or, expressed in a better manner: You didn't exactly know, what you felt, but you hadn't expected thisfrom him. Not from him. Not Brett. "Have you read about pheromones and similar bio-chemicals inside the human body? A group of women who meet regularly, at work, at home or a group of close friends, have their periods at almost the same time, because their individual physiologies adapt to each other. Similarly, if a man join a group of men with high levels of testosterone, his body will adapt and raise the levels of his own testo. Scents, we aren't even aware of, are able to cause changes in our internal chemistry. Now: Take a whiff of this!" Brett pressed a breathing mask over your nose and mouth, and in your vulnerable position, strapped to The Machine, there was nothing you could do to stop him. You inhaled. Nothing. At least, you weren't aware of any scent in particular, but you became aware of a nice tingling feeling in your skin. Inhaled. The tingling became stronger, and blood rushed to your dick. "You see, people in this Project has harvested the scents from countless prison-gyms, hardcore gym-lockers, marine baracks, fire-stations and similar places, where the average testosterone level is presumably high ... and then they have distilled the potent transmittor-substances that affect a man's own production of androgene hormones and growth-hormones ..." You found it hard to think now. Tingling skin. Tenting underwear. Pounding temples. Brett put earbuds in your ears. A strange sound. Waves. The deeper you go, the better you feel. The better you feel, the deeper you go. A wave of fear: Fear of losing yourself. Fear of eradication of your Self. Fear of the unknown feeling, stirring in the depths of your soul. Inhaling. Willing to transform. Eager to transform. Adapt and raise the levels of ... Excitement, but fear of losing who you are. Tingling. Embodiment. So physically present now. Brett's big hands assuring you of comfort. Yeah, present. Embodied. Tingling body. Some sort of brutal anger crawling in the deep recesses of your soul. Crawling. Rising to the surface. You tugged at the straps that held your wrists and ankles in place, in some inarticulate will to free yourself, but another part of yourself enjoyed the feeling ... Yes: Enjoyed! Fear of ... the stirring feelings. Your muscles changing. Transforming. Warm. Hard. Pumped. Involuntarily flexing. Harder. Bigger. Real jock. Who's an Alpha? YOU are an Alpha. Becoming an Alpha with an Alpha mindset. Becoming an Alpha with an Alpha body. Becoming Brett's Alpha. Becoming the Alpha you always wanted to be. Becoming the Alpha you always had deep inside. Becoming Alpha brawn. Becoming Alpha beef. Becoming ... Is someone messing with you? Fuck, no. If anyone try to mess with you, you will show them, that no-one mess with this real thug bro. Yeah: Real thug bro. Feel so good. Feel so confident. And brawny. And horny. Would be fun to teach some of the idiots from the past a lesson. Yeah, feeling so good! Look at you! Look at this bruiser! Look at these arms! And these pecs! And you didn't skip leg day. Inhaled. More. More of it. More like Brett. FUCK YES! More! Eagerly inhaling. Eagerly listening to the ... the waves. Eagerly receiving the strange, voluptious and empowering energy that streamed into your electronic gloves, your electronic trainers and your electronic underwear. Eagerly BECOMING what Brett turned you into. Uh! Uhhhhh! Fuck, yeah! You moaned in excitement, when your shoulders became bigger than volley-balls and your trapezius changed to a size adapted to your new shoulders. You could feel your back feel like a mountain-side. Mountain-side! Brickwall! The power! Your thug-power! Filling your trainers now. Not too big trainers anymore. Filling them. Big feet. Big hands filling the gloves. Big ... Uh ... Your hands breaking free. Breaking the steel. Muscle against metal. Muscles winning. Your bullneck of corded steel. Your dick tenting inside the underwear. Power rushing into you ... into your body ... into your hands, into your feet and into your boner ... Conducting this ... POWER ... into you. Rushing. Connected to. Power current. Growing you. Growing BIG! Your mind ... Drowning in the sound of waves which turned you into ... into the real bruiser, who are YOU. Brett, yes! More! Give me more! I need it! I crave it! I lust for it! For all this engorged, powerful brawn. For all this engorged, powerful, conditioned and dominant muscle mass. You couldn't believe it: So good, so much. Almost too much, but there is no such thing as too much. All there is, is the craving for more ultra-masculine, virile, steel-hard FLESH. And you are becoming that ultra-masculine, virile, steel-hard FLESH. Becoming FLESH! Your hands must be bigger now. You touched your abs with your BIG hand: Deep ravines had formed between your abs -- a packet of pétanque balls of steel above your navel. Your shoulders widening. The incredible feeling when your chest became barrel-sized. The incredible feeling when your height increased. The incredible feeling when your quads turned monstrous vein-covered BEEF. Inhaling your new Self. Waves. Forming the new you. Intruding from outside. But also ... also stirring. Stirring from within. Rising from inside. Surfacing. Erupting. Yes! The hidden You: Erupting into existence. Erupting out of you. The embodied, heavy, muscular you. Your Jock-you. The mind of your Jock-you. The true you. No longer repressed. Who's a good jock-boy? YES! YOU are a good jock-boy! Jock-boy strong! Jock-boy brawny! Who's a dumb jock? YOU are a dumb jock, and you love it. "Brett! Yes! Good! More!" And Brett increased it. Your mind sunk into incoherent chatter, your immense and massive body writhed in pleasure and buzzed with growth-power, and, distantly, you could subconsciously hear yourself moan, but you were too overwhelmed by the bombardment of stimuli to take notice. Brett was making this fucking bruiser an even bigger fucking bruiser: Bulging all over of power-mass! Yeah: Power-mass! Steel-brawn! Huge! Make me! MAKE ME! Yes! Love it! Big feet conducting power. Big hands conducting power. Boner conducting power. Engorged and throbbing. Not just the boner. Your entire body: Engorged and throbbing. Every. Single. Muscle: Engorged and throbbing. Huge! Uh. Yes! Huge! Make me! Uh! Make me! Uhhhhh! Make me!!! Uhhhhh!!! BIGGER!!!!!!!! Brett smiled, when he saw, what you had become, and you could see on his smile, how proud he was of you. It was then he turned up the dial to maximum.
  4. “But you’re as small as a mouse!” “Yeah, but a mighty mouse.” “Dude, you’re a dweeb - a shrimp. There’s no way you should be able to do that!” “What can I say, I’ve just been blessed with power beyond your imagination. You should see what happens if I really squeeze. Scares you, doesn’t it?” I removed my hand from the top of the hammer. His face turned as white as a sheet. The steel head was now mangled and crushed into something unrecognizable – something insubstantial. My fingers had squeezed the tool with so much ease, even I had been impressed. I was clearly getting much stronger and that could only mean one thing – it was time to go out and find even more bullies for me to terrorize. I needed to do more cleaning. This present scum was known across campus for being rude and abusive to girls he dated. I had ‘dropped by’ for an unexpected visit with the intention of making sure he was always nice to the ladies in the future. He had opened the door and his very tall frame had caused him to look over my much shorter body – missing me completely. I had to clear my throat for him to notice. He had looked down and actually laughed at my size – my head below his pecs. Laughed, because he had not been introduced to my power at that point. When I told him, I was there to correct some of the mistakes he had made with women on campus, he guffawed even louder and went to close his door. My palm had then been placed on the hollow metal fireproof barrier and its movement stopped abruptly – completely catching Mr. Rude off guard. He glanced down to the floor to see what was in the way, seeing nothing. He pushed harder and his eyes got wider when the thing didn’t move and his pea-brain started to connect the dots. He looked at me and I smiled. That’s when I gently started pushing the door back open with my mousey hand and he had doubled down his efforts – foolishly, I might add – to stop me from coming in. When the thing was completely open and the guy was freaking out at the dented in metal around my palm, I flicked the back of my other hand against his mid-section and sent him flying into his dorm room where he landed on his butt some ways back. During the time it took him to catch his breath and realize he had been flicked by a dweeb – merely flicked – to the floor, I came inside and shut the door behind me. I turned around, smiling at how he now had to look up to me – his butt on the floor. He’d have to find a way to explain the caved-in metal to his dorm mother – that wasn’t my concern. “I must be dreaming,” the big guy said as I handed him the hammer. He had been saying that a lot since I arrived. I, myself, sometimes felt that way – I mean, to be able to flick the back of my hand into a grown guy and send him flying was pretty unbelievable. I had to admit, however, that it also turned me on. To have turned into this secret bully patrol of the campus sounded like I was being altruistic and heroic, but I did it mostly because I got to shock guys with my power – and that fueled my late-night wank sessions more than any morphed muscleman pictures on the internet. Big guys just couldn’t fathom a little dude with my kind of power. It made them crazy with confusion – and shame, I think. In typical jock-boy fashion, as soon as the bully had regained his breath he jumped up and came running at me – intending to squash me between his big shoulder and the door. I waited with glee, as my cock started to dance in anticipation. Come on, what normal blooded human male doesn’t want to be able to instantly stop a charging bull with his body – just by standing there with his hands on his hips and being so incredibly dense nothing could unmoor him. This time, I felt a little sorry about the pain my unmoving body inflicted – but it was his own fault. The wind inside him was knocked out even more with this powerful jolt. His body froze against mine for a few seconds. He then slid down my leg to lie flat-faced on the ground, moaning from the agony. That sound – a guy breathing hard and whimpering just because he was trying to recover from being introduced to all my power – made my balls pulse and my heart beat with joy. I stepped to the side of the dude, reached down to grab the back of his jeans, and easily lifted his body into the air. Here was what most people would call a scrawny ninety-pound weakling picking up a huge college football player like he was as light as a stray sock. I then tossed him across the room onto his bed. The moans of pain turned into moans of complete and utter shock as he turned to gaze at me with a look that could only be described as total fear. I was ruining all of his preconceived knowledge of the laws of the jungle. The biggest had to be the strongest! As I moved closer I explained how things were going to be from now on – he was going to be nice to the ladies and, actually, nice to everyone, he was going to never mention me or my powers to anyone, and if he broke either of these new rules I would return and do to him what I was going to do to the hammer I pulled out of my backpack. I banged on the top of his desk a few times to show him it was a genuine steel tool for building or tearing down. I then wrapped my small hand around the top and squeezed. His eyes had bulged wide when he saw deformed metal seep out between my tiny fingers. There was also this high-pitched screeching sound that had actually come to cause the little nipples on my slight, concave chest to turn hard since I knew it was steel giving up against my small, but mighty hand. Now, watching the dude shaking his head back and forth in disbelief as I handed him the crushed hammer, I became fully aroused and knew I’d have to get back to the privacy of my own dorm room pretty quickly to relieve myself. That, in and of itself, posed different kinds of problems since my ejaculations could power through concrete or stronger stuff with no problem. I kept having to hang up new posters all over my place to cover up the damage I had done. I could have imagined how that news would have made the bully feel even more insecure. “So, big guy, have I made myself clear? Or should I squeeze some part of you like I did the hammer just to drill my point in a little more?” “No!” he screamed, still holding the hammer and staring at its head, “I understand. I understand. Be nice and not a word to anyone. I promise.” “Good man. Good, changed man. And now, I must be off – in more ways than one.” ‘Wait, mister,” he said, and the added title of respect for little old me brought a smile to my face, as well as bringing me a lot closer to orgasm, “Will you come back sometime and show off your strength again? It’s so fucking hot.” This was a first. So, our big bully had a strength fetish. There was probably a connection between that and what he did to others, but I wasn’t a therapist. I did, however, figure a frequent reminder to him about my strength would have him being nicer than the best altar boy at church pretty much for forever, so I nodded my head. “You’ll need to supply the tools,” I said, smiling and leaving him – still dumbfounded and staring at the demolished hammer like it was some religious artifact. As I quickly made my way home, I remembered being told about three bullies who had been terrorizing people at the campus gym. A quick stop there, to see if my future converts were working out would be fun. It would also add some much-welcomed fuel to my promised powerful ejaculation.
  5. (Panting) "Grayson! What were you thinking?! I don't care how strong you are, you can't be doing this shit, and if you do QUIT DRAGGING ME INTO IT" "Oh hush Jack. They come up, I'll drop them" "Not as easy as you think it is. C'mon its this way. Ever since I met this man years ago, hes been a big help but, he be taking too many risks. He has this power that lets him controls and grow his muscles at will and thinks hes invincible. "This way, this way!" A Soldier screams. "Shit grayson. They're coming!" "Let Them come through. I got something for their Ass" Grayson says with a evil smirk. "There they are! Jack and grayson, you are under arrest for stealing the wishirite. Give up now or we will engage!" We both put our hands up but Grayson is smiling. I hope whatever he's plotting will get us out of here. "Checkmate..." Grayson says confidently. I instantly knew what that meant and dove behind them. He gets into a power-up pose and stands there grinning. One soldier shoots at him and the bullet hits him but doesn't penetrate his skin. Another Soldier empties a whole clip into him but again, doesnt kill him. "All right, you think we playing games huh? Men! Ready, aim, fire!!" All at once, all 9 soldiers empty all their bullets into Grayson, but to no avail. He hasn't grown his muscles yet, so this is new shit to me. All of the men stood there shocked, "how could that not have killed them" they thought. Grayson is still in the power up pose chuckling. He turns to me and says "I know you're not gay but don't cream your pants for whats about to happen." OH BOY "All these bullets you have shot but not one killed me" Grayson laughed. "It did sting a little bit I'll say that. But I might as well get a lil bit more comfortable. Grayson rips off his shirt showing a rock hard 8 pack and a really chiseled and veiny chest. "WTF are you doing?" I ask. "You'll see. Because I've had sex plenty of times with other girls, and they that I CUM A LOT. But since you soldiers wanna play around, its time to retaliate!" All of rhe bullets still on grayson are now being absorbed into his body. "WTH is happening" I thought. He starts moaning for a good 30 secs till I realise he's growing his cock in his shorts. I'm not but that just happens come in my peripheral vision. His pants starts ripping the fabric till eventually he has his own little fly. And his cock just bursts out, showing all 11 inches and veins and striations. "Ahhh. That feels better, but it wont compare to this." He continues to moan and he continues to grow his dick inch by inch every second. 14... 15... 16... 17 ... 18... 19... 20! A massive 20 inch cock with even more veins. "Ay sergeant Cole! Ready or not, HERE I CUM!!!!!" His cock starts shooting bullets back at the soldiers like a machine gun. SHOORING BULLETS. He screams and enjoyment and all if the soldiers fall down. He continued for a good 2 mins as he still shooting tbe bodies on the ground, getting a kick of his cock being a 50. Cal gatling gun. "All right they're dead! Stop!. Grayson stops and starts panting. "Sorry. I get a kick out of that. I can give this power too. The pleasure is unimaginable." "No thanks, I'm good. Let's just get this wishirite home...
  6. The beginning is found: here. Part Five is found: here. Descent into growth Part Six You weren't sure if it had been the unknown after-effects, or if he had used the Test Chamber again, while you were suffering from the temperature, but Mr. V had probably reached somewhere around 280, 300, perhaps 320 lbs now. It was hard to guess, because he was obviously very cut and chiselled without much fat. In your terrified state, you were probably prone to exaggerate, but he could be 6'2'' or 6'3''. It was in the middle of the night, but Mr. V's taste for showing off wasn't asleep. His chest was entirely naked, but he was wearing army trousers with a city-camo pattern and very glossy boots. Treating your Lab like a fun-fair. Yes, indeed. You had to stand up against this charade, come hell, come high water. "You owe me an explanation, Mr. Vanderwesthuisen. What exactly is happening?" There was a lozenge of moonlight on the wall. Not enough to see his facial expression. "It's Mr. V now. I told you. Before you passed out." There was a dawning realisation beginning to take form. Your head felt strangely cold. "That came all of a sudden. On the order of whom was I given an IV, while I suffered from a temperature? I'm the medical expert here, and even I am not a practitioner." "Little Rob share some of your background. A few courses in medicine and several courses in physics make a good combination, don't they?" His voice was like dark chocolate slowly trickling over ice cream. Rich. Dark. Trickling. What was wrong with you? You hadn't felt any attraction to Mr. V in the past, and you certainly hadn't any reason to, now when your employer might have gone insane, and might be a threat to everyone at the compound: You, Rob, Nate, the two nice cleaning women, the kitchen staff, the two hunky guards... Hunky? You had never used that word about... What was happening? You felt strange, but the dizziness had faded, and your legs felt more stable, than just a few minutes ago. "So I asked Rob nicely, and he gave you some nutritional drip, while you were asleep. We have taken turns to tend your bed during your illness." You became aware of the elastoplast taped over the crook of your arm. Nutritional drip? But the only nutritional drip available was the same one, that had been administered to Nate and Mr. V. And why was your head feeling so unusually chilly, with all that hair of yours? Mr. V purred: "The second bag was an easy way to inject you with your personally tailored serum. When I asked nicely, Rob told me, that it wouldn't be possible to give you the injection in your glute, like you do with roids, so it was best to use an IV while you weren't protesting." "I'm not one of the test subjects. And what have you done to Rob?" Mr. V grabbed your armpits, lifted you up, and began to walk, while he continued to chat: "I wasn't a test subject, until I told you, that I wanted to be one. In your plan, there was only one original test subject: Nate." Panic rose inside you. You had several biochemical compounds running inside you. Chemicals not intended for you. Not intended for use, unless the test subject was soon entering the Test Chamber. You feared to enter the Test Chamber. You... "That's in your plan, of course. In my plan, which none of you seemed to anticipate, I expected myself and you to grow all along, eventually, when the transformation-process had proven stable and reliable, and I hoped, that Nate would become the plaything I need. Initially, he turned out to be overconfident, too overconfident, but that was enjoyable too, for a little while, when I was still a weakling, before my exaltation into my new state. I hope to rectify that mistake, soon." He carried you down the stairs. The corridor. The fear. Chemicals inside you. Already changing you. Priming you for the Chamber. "Rob needed some encouragement. I had to force him, threaten him (but I suspect he liked that bit), and dangle a carrot before him to do as I commanded." He interrupted his walk, changed his grip around you, so that you dangled from his left armpit, his powerful arm held under your belly. His right hand was searching for something in a walnut-wood drawer. "Now when I think of it, you could be of some assistance this very moment. Will you please lock these earbuds around my ears, will you?" He showed you a pair of strangely-looking earbuds, and put each of them in his ears. He put you down. You considered running, but that was a risky choice. You locked the earbuds around his ears. "You seem to hear well enough what I'm saying, so I suppose I will hear your answers, too. Doesn't it feel good to share the same sort of earbuds with me, jock boy?" You couldn't believe your ears. Jock boy? You? No one had called you jock boy. The most ridi- ... Jock boy. You shivered. You had to swallow. It actually sounded quite fierce. Mr. V pushed you before him down the next couple of stairs. Into the Lab. Your Lab. The Lab where you grow Nate and Mr. V. The way they want to be grown. Grown into Alphas. Grown into what they like to become. Grown. That was strange. You felt horny. You had felt terrified just a minute ago, but you felt... at ease. Yes. Felt at ease. The Lab. Then you remembered: You were worried for your friend Rob. Little Rob. "What have you done to Rob? If you have harmed him, I swear, that I will give you what you deserve!" The lighting was considerably better here. The stairs were lit, and the safety doors outside the Lab were efficiently lit. You could see an amused smile on Mr. V's timeless unaging masculine face: "There's a warrior-spirit inside you Doc. I like that. I like some resistance. And as to your question about what I have done to little Rob, I will answer that question." Mr. V pushed a number-sequence into the lock, and the safety door opened. Both of you entered. You could smell the usual familiar scents. Nate was there – bigger than before, and only wearing red silky boxing shorts with yellow stripes this time. The Test Chamber was humming, which came as a surprise. You turned your head, and for a second or two, you were unable to understand what you saw. Mr. V continued his speech. "I fulfilled his innermost dreams, even if he wasn't necessarily aware of these dreams before tonight." The unknown man inside the active Test Chamber was a towering giant at perhaps 6'4''. His shoulders were wide and melon-sized. Volleyball-sized pectorals voluptiously hung powerful from his chest, exuding terrifying power. His arms were proportionally sized. Something was wrong with the Chamber. Someone had put training equipment inside, in a ridiculous gesture, and the giant was performing deadlifts inside the Chamber. Nate said something in a tone of admiration, and you could see his glossy red boxing shorts tent, as he said it: "That's almost 1000 lbs!" The man inside the Chamber was a platinum blonde giant of a man. Slowly it dawned to you: The man inside the Chamber was little Rob! But he wasn't little Rob anymore. * * * Part seven is found: here.
  7. Part one is found: here. Part four is found: here. Descent into growth Part Five Uncomfortable. You felt uncomfortable and soaked in sweat. The air felt hot – too hot – and suffocating, and your face felt too warm. You couldn't move, and another nauseous wave of too warm and stuffy atmosphere surrounded you, tossed you around and carried you away: into sleep, into your thoughts, into reality – you didn't know. You smelled the scent of shavings and guineapig droppings, methylated spirits and cleaning solution. You were in the Lab. Hadn't this already happened once? You approached Rob and Nate, who sat watching the screen of the computer, which controlled the field. The morphogenetic field. Rob was free to study the diagrams, the 3D sketches consisting of translucent outlines of real persons' physiques. You hadn't given that particular aspect of experiments much thought: Your predecessors in that field of study had gathered and collected a bank of statistic data about human anatomy and physiology. You recollected the stray reports about accidents, when the symmetry protocols and functionality protocols had been disregarded in the past, and you had tried to instill into little Rob the importance of basing any morphogenetic field on real people with functional physiques. You came closer. Little Rob must have heard the sound of your feet, and turned his head. You could see him blush, and his ruddy cheeks contrasted against his platinum blond hair and his innocent ice blue eyes. "How's Mr. Vanderwesthuisen?" "Still recovering from his DNA-programming infection. What are you looking at?". Nate turned around, his friendly and confident smile flashing from his youthful face: "Hey, Doc. Rob is showing me how the machine works. You've got data about most of my heroes, and then some." "What do you mean?" "Look here: You've got stats and some sorta drawings on the computer, and not just the competitors from the mid-2020's, but also a lot of vintage athletes. Take this one, for instance: Lee Priest, famous back in the 90's. Short, but built like a brick wall! Or that one, did you ever watch Game of Thrones? I was too young, but I've watched the re-runs. That's Hafthor Bjornson. The Mountain? And you have drawings ... what did you call them, Rob?" "Three-D sketches." "Three-D sketches, then. You've got 3D sketches of Cutler at Olympia in 2009, and you've got sketches of Markus Ruhl at the height of his career, and you've got Morgan Aste and Mariusz Pudzianowski." "Who?" "It's your data bank, not mine." "I have never been much into sports. I do work out irregularly, but I don't remember the names of athletes." "Rob didn't recognise half of them either. Most of them are bodybuilders, but Bjornson is a Strongman comptetitor. Mariusz won World's Strongest Man five times, but went into MMA after that. Now, the thing is, Rob showed me, that it is possible to combine data from all these drawings." "Yes, it is. How so?" "Well, I've sometimes imagined what would happen, if anyone of Bjornson's height got the same physique as Lee Priest. Lee's even shorter than me or Rob, but look how WIDE he was back then." "I suppose it could be done, theoretically, but no scientist would attempt to combine two physiques as different as those two." Nate looked smug. Rob blushed. "Actually, I asked Rob to fuse the, eh, 3D-sketches of Lee and Bjornson, and then mix that sketch with all the others here: Jay... Ruhl... Aste... And he did it! He actually did it! Take a look at this sketch!" They had actually "did it", indeed: The newly added SKETCH NUMBER 2137 in your data bank depicted a man looking like something out of comics or computer games, but with one important exception. If you had placed comics characters or game characters in real life, they wouldn't be able to move. Since the sketch was based on existing men with functional muscles, a person looking like that in reality would actually be able to have a life that worked. "Put it in the Archive, Rob. We will not use it. Not this week. Probably never, but put it in the Archive." Something was wrong with the scene. Rob and Nate. Both short lads. Wrong with the scene. Wasn't Nate taller and bigger when this happened? Not happening now. Happened. In the past. Memory. Strange. Something wrong. Uncomfortable. Darkness. You struggled. It felt like an invisible being wrestled with you. Too hot. * * * You smelled the scent of shavings and guineapig droppings, methylated spirits and cleaning solution. You were in the Lab. Hadn't this already happened once? You were standing in front of the Test Chamber, and Mr. Vanderwesthuisen arrived in the Lab. You turned your head. Your employer had a taste for making scientific experiments into fun-fairs: He arrived, wearing a gown of some sort of silky fabric, like the ones some boxers wear. Then he tossed the gown over a chair, revealing his almost naked body. His days spent at the beach had given him an even tan, and, although no one could call him a bodybuilder, it was obvious, by the way he looked, that he worked out seriously. All the marks were there: Pecs, including the beginning of a pec ravine, but not beefy ones; A faint outline of abs; Biceps, but not bulging ones; Visible lats, but not enough to give any exaggerated V-shape. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen was wearing black high-neck trainers – no, rather boxing boots, you corrected yourself. And he was wearing posing trunks. Minimal, metallic green posing trunks of the sort European bodybuilders wear. ”I’m ready. An injection wasn’t it?” You had to clear your throat. It felt like you had a lump in it. ”Beg your pardon?” ”Injection. I have to be injected before I enter, haven’t I?” ”Uh. Yes. Of course. And this is what you are going to wear inside the Test Chamber, Sir?” He smiled. Smugly. Arrogantly. His rather handsome eyes had a glint, that revealed, that he knew that his playful approach to your work irritated you, but that you knew your place in the hierarchy. It was obvious, that he enjoyed how you served his whims, even when it irked you. Smugly. Arrogantly. Expectant. ”Yes, this is what I am going to wear. Unlike Nate, I don’t take pleasure in ripping out of clothes. The injection, then?” Rob was there. He had fetched the serum designed for Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s DNA. The scent of alcohol. The syringe. The sting. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s eyes. Blue eyes, but another hue than Rob’s icy blue ones. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s eyes were blue like a welding torch, and burning now. ”Will you repeat on me what you did to Nate?” ”We were considering two different options. On one hand, it would give us more comparable data, if we repeated the settings of Nate’s go at the Chamber, but, on the other hand, it could be interesting to see what happened, if we increased the hypertrophic power a few percentiles and intensified the anabolic radiation to the same degree. In that case…” You were interrupted by Mr. Vanderwesthuisen: ”I’ll go for the second option.” ”But…” ”That was not a question, Doc. That was a command. You will increase the levels.” You could see Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s posing trunk fill out. Something was growing before the Process in the Test Chamber had begun. He eagerly stepped inside the sluice. The two atmospheres switched place, and he entered the Chamber. You and Rob activated the machines, including Arngrim, the AI, that assisted you in your work. ”Gas saturation, Arngrim?” The metallic voice of the AI answered: ”Eighty-five percent and increasing.” You sneezed, and had to find a package of tissues in your pocket. It was obvious, that you had a sore throat now. Your usual luck… just in the middle of an experiment… ”Ninety percent and increasing.” You could see Mr. Vanderwesthuisen stand in the centre of the chamber inside the octagon outlined by black-and-yellow tape marks. He was inhaling deeply, with an eager expression. ”Ninety-five percent and increasing.” ”Time to warm up the anabolic rays, Rob. I’ll activate the hypertrophic coils.” ”Anabolic emmitters warming up. Hypertrophic coils activated. Ninety-nine percent saturation: Full saturation level.” Bolts were beginning to hit Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s body. He shook. It was hard to distinguish the bolts through the thick protective glass panes. In the green hue from the lamps Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s skin looked almost green. Tanned and green. Silly comics-based fun-fair whims. ”Initiating irradiation.” Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s eyes widened. His mouth opened. You activated the interior microphones and speakers. ”Everything well, Sir?” ”Fuck. Yes. Well. Yes. More than well. Love this. This feeling. Better than I thought. Nate, if you are out there: I’m joining you now. Now I understand, what you talked about. The feeling. Fuck. So good. Becoming like you.” ”Intensify radiation.” ”Intensifying anabolic radiation.” ”FUCK, yes. I don’t know what you are doing out there, but I loved that.” Mr. Vanderwesthuisen was shivering, nay, shuddering inside the Test Chamber. His fit but small physique had begun to change, as Nate’s had a few days before. To fill out. To become taller. To become wider. ”Increase power.” ”Increasing hypertrophic power.” ”FUCK! YES! More! Watch me! Watch me grow! Look at me! Look what I’m becoming now! Look at me! These muscles!” The test subject was correct. He was growing, and his muscles were more visible, more full. He looked like a short lightweight bodybuilder, or perhaps a bodybuilder of average height. The signs of middle age in his face were fading. It was now hard to guess Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s age. His chest protruded proudly. He stood there, the increasing volume of his quads and hamstrings pushing his legs wider apart. The outline of his abs was much more visible now: Six hard bronze-coloured hemispheres glistening of sweat. His manhood was growing inside his metallic green posing trunks, and his two proud bicepses were not the only growing steel-bulge of his. His shoulders looked like grapefruits – no, small melons, now, and there was a beefy trap running behind his neck, causing his neck to look beefier. You felt a mild feeling of dizziness, but recovered within seconds. ”Intensify radiation.” ”Intensifying anabolic radiation.” ”Increase power.” ”Increasing hypertrophic power.” Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s eyes widened again. Voluntarily or involuntarily he flexed all of his muscles. And again. Flexed. And again. Two or three conflicting feelings shone from his eyes: Fear. Pleasure. And confidence. He did a crab pose in front of himself. Then he flexed both biceps, his mouth grinning confidently. Then his head arched back in abandon. His mouth opened, and he let a moan out. His muscle mass expanded outwards. His bone-structure re-structured with an ugly sound, and in a split-second you briefly sent a grateful thought at the analgesics flowing in Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s body. A sick wet sound, like stuffing a leather sofa full of raw meat, was heard through the loudspeakers, but that sound was almost drowning in Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s more and more loud moans of pleasure. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s penis was stretching his green metallic posing trunks further, and the root of his tanned manhood was now visible. Pre-cum drooled through the fabric of the very elastic posing trunks, and Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s right hand blindly thrashed in the air, until his big, powerful hand cupped the head of his rod through the fabric of the poser. His left hand sqeezed his right pec. By now, he must have grown from 5’7’’ to 6 feet, and he could accurately be described as ”barrel-chested”. Metallic green was a suitable colour-scheme for a man beginning to look like a powerful machine. ”FUCK! YES! Look at me! All this mass! Behold your Alpha! I’m the Dominator! I’m coming! I’m huge now, and I will dominate the world! I’m… Uh, fuck, fantastic…” You became worried for his sanity, and the safety-script had run to it’s end anyway, so it was best to finish this test session. ”Deactivate radiation and power!” ”Deactivating hypertrophic power. Decreasing anabolic radiation.” ”NO! You can’t stop it now! I want more! I want EVERYTHING!” It was 266 lbs of powerful beef that stepped out of the Test Chamber. It approached you, and that fast. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen was angry now, and the welding-torches in his eyes were burning hot. Absent-mindedly, you noticed that Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s posing trunks were too small now. Obscenely too small. The dizziness returned, and you coughed. He grabbed you by the collar of your lab coat, and you found yourself dangling in the air, while veins crawled over his 24’’ arms. ”Now, you little science geek, I want you to switch that Chamber on again. I want Alpha godhood, and I want it NOW. You have no idea how it feel to… Oh fuck, I’m still growing! You didn’t tell me about the after-effects…” There seemed to be after-effects. You hadn’t expected that. You were still dizzy, but you could see the impressed expressions on little Rob’s and Nate’s faces. You still dangled in the air. ”Now, Mr. Vanderwesthuisen, you have to calm down. Put me down, and…” ”Feel so good. I’m not Mr. Vanderwesthuisen anymore. I demand, that you call me Mr. V. now, and I tell you: Switch that Chamber on.” The dizziness. Black dots floating before your eyes. You felt uncomfortably warm. The dizziness. And then everything blacked out. Far, far away, you were dimly aware of a huge presence carrying you like a little child to somewhere else. Darkness swallowed your consciousness, and you fell into heat and the smell of sweat. * * * You felt uncomfortable and soaked in sweat. The air felt hot – too hot – and suffocating, and your face felt too warm. You couldn't move, and another nauseous wave of too warm and stuffy atmosphere surrounded you, tossed you around and returned you to reality. You could remember it all, but you must have become unconscious. You woke up, and found yourself in your own bed. You had wrestled with the sheets, and they were a damp mess. Something felt wrong about your ears. You touched them. Some sort of earbuds, but they were locked around your ears. Strange. You opened your eyes. Dark, but the outline of the window was visible. You rose. Still slightly dizzy. For how long had you slept? Moonlight outside the window. Moonlight over the tropical sea. You turned around. In the moonlight you could see the outline of an IV pole. You became suspicious. An empty bag was hanging there. No. Two empty bags were hanging there. What was going on? Mr. V’s insanity. Somehow, you had to call the authorities. No sign of your mobile phone anywhere. You had to go to the office room undetected. You were still dizzy, as you navigated the unlit nocturnal corridors of the compound. There it was. The office. You lifted the receiver from the old-fashioned stationary telephone. Not all equipment on the island had been updated. Your legs were shaky after the flu, and you felt exhausted. You dialled 112. Silence. "Hello? Anyone there? Can anyone hear me?" You felt a BIG warm presence behind you, and a BIG powerful hand pulled the receiver out of your hand, restoring it to its place, while a deep voice – a both pleasantly and threateningly deep voice – growled behind you: "What did I say about contacting authorities? Remember, I pay your rent, but don't worry: Welcome back from the sickbed. You are needed in the Lab." You turned around. It was Mr. V., and he was bigger now. * * * Part six is found: here.
  8. New Breed: Super Mutants (Prologue) Hi all! My first time writing AND posting a story here. So, what happened was, I made a couple of morphs some time last year. Instead of posting them in the media section though, I thought I’d try my hands at writing and share their backstory too. Only got the chance to write a bit recently. There’s not much eroticism in this chapter, just a prologue, sort of. Anyway, enjoy the story (and photos)! Link to my morphs’ thread for more stuff is at the end of this story. Also, English is not my first language so please bear with me. - New Angeles city – I really need to start going back to the gym, Jason thought as he twisted and turned in front of the mirror. The clock on his desk beeped and Jason looked over to check the time. 12:00 AM. Time to call it a day, he thought as he stretched his arms and yawned. He has spent the whole day, and the last few days reading reports of missing persons on the online “Missing Persons Database”. He had also been going through news portals and social media to check posts related to missing people in the city. The more he read, the more concerning it became for Jason. Over the past six weeks, there was a sudden increase in the number of people going missing across the city. A new report was filed every few days. What was even more alarming to Jason was the fact that all of them were mutants, including the young man Jason was hired to find, a 21-year-old named Benjamin Park. His sister, who saw Jason’s ads posted online, gave him a call a few days ago and offered him a pay of $50,000 to find and return her brother safely. Her brother had been missing for almost two weeks, and her family had grown frustrated with the police and their work. At 26 years old, Jason left his office job of two years to set up his own private investigator agency. Despite having no experience whatsoever with P.I. kind of work, Jason believed he could make it work. Jason was in fact a mutant with the power to cloak himself with a shroud that makes him (or others) invisible to the naked eye, and untraceable by most senses. The only weakness to his cloaking ability is that whatever he cloaks does not become intangible, so they are not completely undiscoverable. Jason’s ability had been super useful for his P.I. work based on the few cases he had taken and solved since he started the business. He could tail his “person of interest”, listen to their conversations, follow their every move and learn their secrets without the person ever knowing he was there until he gets the clue or proof he needed to solve the case. A bit creepy on his part, but it works. However, Jason had a feeling that this Benjamin Park case would not be a walk in the park like his previous cases. The fact that there were over twenty other mutants missing out there could not be a coincidence. And there is the risk that whoever or whatever is responsible for the missing mutants may not be good news for Jason himself. I’m gonna go on a long vacation after this one, Jason thought to himself. He looked at Benjamin’s photo on his Instagram again. The 21-year-old college junior has dyed his hair a deep red color, probably to match his mutant ability of pyrokinesis (the ability to generate and control flames). “He’s kinda cute,” Jason said as he smiled warmly. “Kick-ass power too.” Jason has been single for over a year now since he broke up with his boyfriend of six months when he left the Brotherhood. Putting aside the missing persons’ reports, Jason turned back to his personal investigation file for Benjamin where he had mapped his movements and activities, and deduced that whatever is happening has something to do with Stark Industries and their huge experimental facility just outside the city center. As a mutant, Jason has been wary of the multinational conglomerate and their work for quite a while now. His suspicion grew worse after “new management” took over the company several years ago, not long after Earth was invaded by aliens. The invasion ended with the disappearance of half the world’s population, which the media calls “The Purge”. The U.N. estimated exactly half the planet’s population disappeared, or more accurately turned into dust due to the event. Jason and his family were fortunately spared of the mysterious phenomenon, but most people he knew were not as lucky. Then, the infamous group of superheroes, The Avengers left Earth not long afterward. Some said they went to exact justice on the aliens responsible for The Purge and undo the event, while some believed they had abandoned Earth for greener pastures (or planet). Regardless of which was the truth, they never came back, the legendary Tony Stark included. Back to the present, there had been rumors that Stark Industries under the new management is involved in many shady businesses, including promoting terrorism overseas, discrimination and violence against mutants, and running illegal clinical experiments. The government, who is highly dependent on the company even before the Purge, was powerless against the conglomerate. But Jason was convinced that in order to find Benjamin, he had no choice but to get inside the experimental facility. Early the next day, Jason geared himself up for his ‘mission’. He has never been to any Stark Industries facility, but he assumed there are security measures he would need to overcome and being invisible may not be enough. Jason took out his precious stash of gadgets. He packed all three of the mini EMP generators, each the size of a DVD and capable of taking down electronics within a 10-meter radius. He also packed a few smoke bombs and an extendable blade, just in case he needs them. He had gotten these tools from his brief stint in the Brotherhood of Mutants just after he graduated college, which is a period of his life he would rather forget. Not only because he abhorred the Brotherhood’s goals and methods, but also because things did not end well with his ex-boyfriend, Kareem, who was a hardcore supporter of the whole “homo superior” ideology. Jason also added a few other tools he felt he might need like a utility knife, a headlamp, a mini first aid kit, and a small bottle of water, all packed in a small sling bag. By 8:30 AM, Jason was already standing (cloaked) just inside the main entrance of the great, white building complex. Getting through the guarded entrance was no problem, and getting into the building was easy enough as he only had to tail one of the employees. Jason spent the next few hours exploring the complex, trying to find clues that would point towards Benjamin’s or any of the other missing mutants’ location. He was walking along an empty corridor when a door on his right suddenly slides open, and two researchers walked out. Jason turned to his side just fast enough to avoid contact. One of them was a white male in his 30s, while the other was an Indian woman. “I still think we should’ve waited a bit more before we call the whole Board of Directors to come and observe,” said the female who wore her black hair in a tight bun. Both of them seemed like they were in a hurry, so Jason decided to trail them. “I agree, Nina. But Dr. Hopkins does not, and in the end, it’s what he thinks that matters most. He’s confident the experiment will work, and we are running out of test subjects. So, I guess he’s pretty much going all out. You know the Board is already considering pulling out and retract their funding for this project.” The two (with Jason in tow) continued walking along the corridor as they chat about the big experiment of the day.. “So, who’s going into the demonstration today?” Nina asked her colleague. “Is it 35?” The man, who Jason identified as Dr. Bryant from his name-tag, looked briefly at the notes on his tablet before he answered. “Yeah…Subject 32, Nikolai Mironov, and Subject 35, Benjamin Parks.” Jason went wide-eyed upon hearing the names. For one, he has found the clue for Benjamin’s potential whereabouts. In addition, Nikolai Mironov was a familiar name, unless subject 32 just coincidentally have the same name as the mutant he knew from the Brotherhood. From what he remembered; Nikolai was a 26-year-old, tall but skinny guy with the power of telekinesis (ability to move objects/matter with his mind). Though they never had much interaction before, Jason suspected that Nikolai had a crush on Kareem (his ex). “The two of them are the only ones to pass the preliminary tests with flying colors, so it’s only a matter of time,” Bryant continued. “I know…I think I just feel a little sorry for 35. When we offered him the internship here, he was so happy and excited about it. He’s quite intelligent too,” Nina said sympathetically. “And 32…did he really kill all those people at the diner?” “No idea. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter, does it? Even for 32, they are all mutants, Nina. You have to remember our end goal here. Imagine if all goes well like Dr. Hopkins’ plan, soon we’d be able to create a team of super mutants under our control. We won’t have to be scared of any of them anymore.” If Jason was in the conversation, he would have been speechless after that. Looks like the rumors about Stark Industries are true. They are no different from the Brotherhood either. Bunch of extremists, Jason thought. The two scientists took Jason past a few electronically-secured doors into a huge room with control panels and computers. A handful of other scientists were either busy typing away or discussing work around the room. Solid walls enclosed the room on three sides including the entrance, while the fourth one was made of clear glass from the top to halfway down, which allowed them to look into another room that was connected by a door. This room was more chamber-like, with higher ceiling than the room they were in, and illuminated with bright white lights from the top. In the middle of the chamber was a huge, bluish crystalline object. The crystal, which Jason estimated to have a diameter of at least 6 feet, was suspended midair by a machine with cylindrical base and top parts. The machine was spinning slowly and emitted a soft, humming sound continuously. In the middle, the big crystal remained static, suspended by magnetic or whatever force was being produced by the machine. On either side of the machine were two reclining medical chairs with straps on them, which Jason assumed were for Subject 32 and 35. While Jason was busy examining the brightly-lit room, the door suddenly slides open and a group of people arrived. An older man in a lab coat who led the new arrival proceeded to introduce the other scientists to the newcomers. These must be the board members, Jason thought as he looked at the business-suit-wearing newcomers. One of them approached the glass wall and narrowed his eyes as he examined the crystal in the other room. “So, Dr. Hopkins, is this the Terrigen Crystal you’ve been working on?” the bald man said with a heavy southern accent. The others also stepped closer to have a look at the glimmering crystal. The leading scientist, Dr. Hopkins’ face lit up as he saw their interest in the crystal. “Indeed, Mr. Bowman. This, ladies and gentlemen is not just any Terrigen Crystal. This is our very own creation based on the Obelisk that was secured by S.H.I.E.L.D. This crystal, Extrigen as I call it, combines the best of both the alien technology that is Terrigenesis and an advanced version of the Extremis formula.” “Extremis…isn’t that--” one of the female board members started before Hopkins interrupted her. “Yes, Ms. Wilkes. The Centipede did an amazing job stabilizing the flawed work of the late Aldrich Killian and Dr. Maya Hansen. But I took it one step further,” Hopkins said, beaming with pride. “I—We, have done our own extensive studies, and we managed to produce a variation even better than the Centipede’s. From our tests so far, the subjects’ physical conditions were enhanced three to four times compared to what the Centipede’s can do at similar dosage.” “And this occurs without any adverse effects?” asked another Asian-looking, middle-aged man. “Yes, Mr. Hong. We have tested various dosages and the subjects all reacted positively. Of course, there are a couple of caveats for this. The first one being the dosages must be customized based on the subjects’ genetic makeup.” Hopkins explained. He paused for a few seconds and seemed hesitant before he continued. “The second condition is…the subject must be a mutant.” Upon hearing that, several of the board members’ faces soured and they began throwing questions angrily, while Hopkins and the rest of his team looked at each other uncomfortably. Raising his voice over his irate colleagues, Mr. Hong remained composed as he asked, “And how is this beneficial for us, Dr. Hopkins? Surely you are aware our main goal is to enhance our own race so that WE are the superior one, not the mutants.” The others stopped and fell silent as they waited for Hopkins’ answer. “We are very much aware of that goal, ladies and gentlemen.” “And yet your creation benefits them, not us!” spat a female board member. “It might seem that way, Ms. Goran. But I assure you we’ve figured out a way to take advantage of this.” He stopped short from adding “We are not stupid, you morons”. Instead, Hopkins produced a vial of bright blue liquid from his pocket and held it up for everyone to see. “This, ladies and gentlemen, is Cerulyze. A compound also developed by us that is capable of incapacitating a person’s cognitive ability, so much so that all they do is follow orders. Our orders.” “And this stuff works?” asked a skeptical Ms. Wilkes. “How are we not aware of this product’s development?” “Yes, it does, Ms. Wilkes. As long as we keep this compound running in their bloodstream, these mutants are not much of a threat to us. In fact, they are much easier to control,” Hopkins explained. “Cerulyze is a new product that we synthesized and developed from one of our earlier test subjects, a mutant with psychic abilities. She did not survive the Extrigenesis process, but we have progressed so much since then.” When he saw the Board members still looking at him with skepticism, Hopkins continued, “Words doesn’t mean much, I know. How about we proceed with the demonstration instead?” Hopkins stepped towards a console in the middle of the room and pressed on the button for the intercom. “Renner, Thomson, bring in subject 32 and 35.” “OK, Dr. Hopkins,” a gruffy male voice answered. “In the meantime, allow me to introduce our two subjects for today’s experiment,” Hopkins started as one of the screens switched on and a profile of Nikolai and Benjamin appeared. There was nothing new for Jason on the screen especially on Benjamin, but he noted Nikolai’s current status as a convicted felon who was charged with multiple homicide. He knew some of the Brotherhood’s members could be quite violent, but he would not have suspected the blond guy to be capable of something as horrific. Was he falsely accused? Jason thought to himself. There must be a whole story behind this. Plus, seems like kidnapping innocent mutants are not their only source of test subjects. As Hopkins was reading the stuff on the screen for his audience, a door in the experiment chamber opened and two security guards entered, guiding a test subject each. Nikolai and Benjamin both looked normal enough, if only a little sleepy. Both of them wore a plain, pale blue hospital gowns. The guards instructed them both to sit in the reclining chairs, with the ominous crystal in the middle. After securing the two mutants in their seat, the guards left through the door they came in from. Meanwhile, Jason was running possible scenarios in his mind. He knew he needed to rescue Benjamin before he gets subjected to the Extrigenesis process. He has heard of Terrigenesis before, and how the process is deadly for those who are not part of the race it was created for. Jason considered whether he should try and rescue Nikolai too, knowing it would make his mission much harder. “Fuck it,” Jason cussed under his breath as he took out two of his EMP generators and set the timer to two minutes. He then placed the devices under the tables at separate locations, hidden from view as he can’t use his cloaking ability from afar. He carefully sneaked his way past Dr. Hopkins and the other people in the room as he moved closer to the door connecting the room and the chamber. He hoped the EMPs would be enough to disable every electronics in the room and the hallway, create a distraction and give him enough time to rescue the incapacitated mutants. As long as I can cloak them, we don’t have to go far, Jason thought. “Now, as you can see subject 32 and 35 are under the effects of Cerulyze. They were given their daily dosage this morning, so they will remain under the effects throughout the whole experiment. We are going to subject them to Extrigenesis—” Hopkins’ speech was cut short when suddenly Jason’s EMP device went off. The computers and the lights immediately went out, plunging the room into darkness. In the experiment chamber, the equipment holding the crystal aloft also ceased to function, and the crystal itself dropped onto the floor. Elsewhere, the sound of a distant blaring alarm could be heard. The scientist Nina was the first to realize the danger they were in. Everyone was panicking in the darkened control room, but she quickly made her way towards exit, and managed to pull the door open. “Everyone, we have to leave now. Please come this way!” The panicked men and women became even more frantic and tried to make their way out of the room by following Nina’s voice. Hopkins too was panicked, but he was more worried about his experiment than his guests. It took quite some persuasion from his fellow scientists before he finally agreed to vacate the room. Meanwhile, Jason quickly made his way into the chamber. There was no light in there either, but the luminescent crystal was shimmering with a bluish light, and it was enough for Jason to find the strapped Benjamin. Uncloaking himself, Jason tried to shake the mutant awake. “Benjamin, can you hear me? Benjamin?!” Jason called as he took the young man’s shoulders in each hand and shook him roughly. The red-haired mutant let out a soft groan, but otherwise remained rigid and unresponsive. Jason struggled with the wrist straps holding Benjamin to the chair as he called for the other mutant. “Nikolai! Come on, wake up!!” Frustrated as he was, Nikolai remained completely motionless. Just as he managed to undo one of the straps on Benjamin, Jason heard a cracking sound coming from the crystal. He stared at the crystal, knowing something bad was about to happen. True enough, after a few seconds the Extrigen crystal suddenly exploded. Jason reflexively brought his arms up to cover his head. He expected to be bombarded with tiny shards of crystal, but when nothing happened, Jason opened his eyes to see that whole chamber was filled with a luminescent mist. Jason looked around him but the shimmering, blue mist was too thick that he could not even see Benjamin. “Benjamin! Nikolai!” Jason called for the two mutants, even though he knew it was useless. Even if they could hear him they were still too intoxicated to respond. Jason walked several feet through the mist, trying to either find Benjamin or find his way out. Then, just as sudden as the explosion, the Extrigen mist swirled around and began to envelop him, as if his body was sucking in the gaseous substance. Jason felt like he was being suffocated, and his whole body was suddenly overwhelmed with pain. He wanted to scream, but he felt like his mouth was sealed shut. His vision quickly darkened until it was pitch black. This is it, Jason thought. I’m dying here with these two. A few seconds of silence passed, when an abrupt, sharp pain stung his whole body. The pain continued and felt like it was never going to end. Or so he thought. After what felt like an eternity (which actually was only a couple of minutes), Jason felt the pain gradually leaving his body. His breathing became more stable, and Jason could feel like his senses have gone back to normal. He was still immobile, and an attempt to move his right arm resulted in him breaking out of a shell of some kind. The Extrigenesis mist must have solidified and formed a hard shell when it surrounded me, he thought. As he fully emerged from the destroyed shell, Jason knew everything was different. What…what is this intense feeling? Jason wondered. He felt invigorated and full of energy. He blinked his eyes, and the first thing that surprised him was how he could see clearly even though the chamber was in total darkness. Jason inhaled, and again was shocked by the diverse smells he could discern. It was as if he could smell each and every thing around him. Jason instinctively looked down at his own body, and his jaw dropped. Not only was he completely naked, but he has lost his swimmer physique and in its place was a body built like the hulk. Somehow, the Extrigenesis triggered a physical transformation in him. During the process, his clothes were torn to shreds and his sling bag was lost on the floor, somewhere. Jason knew he had grown massively from his 6-feet height, as the high ceiling looked closer than it had been. He estimated his new height to be about 8 feet tall. Looking down, Jason could not see past his pecs that now extended far above his torso. Jason lifted his arms to inspect them, and was greeted with a pair of arms more massively muscled than any bodybuilders he has ever seen. Their size was more like a bodybuilder’s thighs, easily measuring 25” around. His arms felt heavy and powerful, but then again so does every part of his new body. Jason moved his hands to his pecs and felt its hardness. It felt like he was touching satin-covered steel, smooth yet dense and hard as hell. Jason moved his hands slowly downward. His bulging, 58” pecs was so huge it created a good 6” overhang over his torso. His palms brushed over his thick nipples, and they were so sensitive that Jason had to stifle a moan. He traced his abs with his hands, and counted three pairs of rock-hard mounds of muscles each nearly the size of his palms. Jason pulled his elbows up towards his sides and ran his hands across the serrated contours of his lats. This is amazing! Jason thought. His transformed body felt powerful. He could feel the immense physical strength within each part of his body. A cracking sound from about ten feet away brought Jason back to reality. He must have closed his eyes while he was feeling and testing the fullness of his new muscles. Jason noticed a weirdly-shaped, 8 feet tall rock standing where Benjamin was before the crystal exploded. Surely enough, more cracking followed and suddenly a figure ‘flew’ upward and out of the rock-like shell. “Benjamin!” Jason said when he saw the figure’s face. He was elated to see the mutant had survived the process too. And like him, Benjamin was a new man. Benjamin floated several feet in the air with his eyes closed as if he was still not fully conscious. When he opened his eyes a few seconds later, they shone brightly with red energy, and immediately his body burst into flames. The fire enveloping Benjamin’s body was so bright and intense that it would have definitely burned or blinded those at such close distance, but Jason was able to look on comfortably (part of his new ability). This continued for a short while before Benjamin finally dismissed the flames and lowered himself back to the floor. With the flames gone, Jason was able to appreciate the physical transformation in the younger mutant. Similar to himself, the Korean-American mutant’s body had been fully transformed by the Extrigenesis process. Benjamin’s new hypertrophied body was a lot leaner, and yet still heavily muscled. The youthful mutant now stood at 7-foot-6 of pure, lean muscle. Even his face has become more chiseled, his previously youthful good looks transformed into a beautifully masculine face. His brown eyes have turned into a bright red color similar to his hair. His steeply-sloping traps bulged out from his thick neck, leading Jason’s eyes to a pair of striated, boulder-sized delts. His incredible 54” pecs bulged with power over eight pack of corrugated abs and erotically tight, 31” waist. His 22” upper arms featured definitions and vascularity of strenuously pumped muscles even as they remain relaxed on either side of his muscle-bound upper body. Moving his eyes lower, Jason was treated to a display of Benjamin’s insanely-defined quads which flared out with pure muscle, each measuring nearly the same thickness of his waist. The muscles of his upper legs flowed gently toward his equally defined and striated calf muscles. Studying his own enhanced musculature, Benjamin gracefully moved his massive left leg forward, causing the muscles to ripple and dance under his glistening skin. To top off his incredibly aesthetic physique, his equally beautiful and meaty cock hung 10.5” down, completely soft. He would later learn that his sex organ when completely aroused would push the measuring tape to 16” long and over 3” wide. In addition, Jason thought his bodyfat must have been as minimal as humanly possible since all his muscles looked as if they were shrink-wrapped with flawless, tanned skin that was almost golden in color. Jason also noted the young man seemed filled with life, unlike earlier when he was under the effects of the mind-paralyzing Cerulyze. Looking up straight ahead, Benjamin finally noticed Jason, who was still busy drinking in the view. As he laid his eyes on Jason, Benjamin was immediately attracted by the vision of the dark-skinned muscle-god before him. Similar to his own body, Jason’s transformed physique was the epitome of virility and masculinity. Benjamin’s eyes hungrily took in the sight of Jason’s handsome face and overdeveloped muscled body. His eyes were bright gold in color, which contrasted strikingly with his rich brown skin. His full lips were just so luscious and inviting. Benjamin could not help but to fantasize how good they would feel on his own. His eyes traveled down Jason’s thick, powerful neck, toward the twin plates of pectoral muscles so big they hung far out over his chiseled abs, even further than his own. Despite his relaxed standing posture, his muscle-strewn lats pushed his arms far out on either side of his twin breastplates. Jason’s arms were laced with a network of thick veins, and relaxed as he was, the muscle fibers within them bulged with promise of impenetrable hardness and power. The rounded masses of muscles were topped with deltoids that resembled the size and density of cannonballs. Jason’s taut waistband must have measured no more than 34”. His relatively small midsection simply highlighted the proportion and immensity of his upper and lower body. If it was not for his own overdeveloped muscles, Benjamin would have thought Jason’s physique to be simply unreal. Gigantic, rippling quads supported the heavy upper body and framed his equally powerful-looking genitals. The soft organ was easily a foot long, and thick as a beer can. Behind the organ, his balls which were pushed forward by his heavily-cabled thighs hung low. While Benjamin’s balls resembled large apples in size and shape, Jason’s testicles weighed down his sac like two unnaturally large eggs. Benjamin’s cock throbbed as his eyes took in Jason and his muscle-bound body. He had always been attracted to muscular men, but Benjamin noticed whatever caused his transformation was also making him hornier than usual. A vibration in the air temporarily brought Jason and Benjamin out of their muscle-appreciation daze. They both turned their attention to the source that was subject 32. The two mutants were too mesmerized by each other’s transformed physique that they did not noticed the blond mutant had only just now broken out of his shell. And just as Benjamin and Jason were busy appraising one another, Nikolai was busy contemplating his own transformation. His post-transformation build was more similar to Jason’s, though he looked like a muscled wonder in his own right. The new Nikolai remained the tallest of the three as he had grown from a scrawny 6’ 4” man, to an 8’ 2” absolute hulk. The blond super mutant’s previously brown eyes were now a mix of blue and green, and at the moment they were fixated on his own huge guns. He lightly shook out his arms. Even unflexed they were astounding in size and definition. Nikolai bent his right arm, and slowly raised it into a bicep pose. As he raised his forearms to vertical, the bicep peaks grew and grew into a huge, hardened ball of muscles rippling with throbbing veins. His triceps too bulged and rippled on the underside. Still studying his gigantic bicep, Nikolai flexed the balled muscle, causing it to harden and grow even thicker to the point of threatening to burst through his paper-thin skin. As he did so, Jason and Benjamin could feel an invisible force acting in sync with his flexing motion, though the blond mutant seemed oblivious to it. Each time he tightens his flex, an invisible wave pulled every movable object within the chamber toward him, while the force pushes everything outward when he did the opposite. As he stood there watching Nikolai’s demonstration, Jason thought the Extrigenesis must have done more than enhanced the three of them physically. Their unique abilities must have been enhanced significantly too, and god knows what new powers they now possess as well. Satisfied with the power in his flexed, 28-inch upper arm, Nikolai lowered his right arm and turned his attention to the rest of his body, as did his audience of two. Benjamin in particular was drawn to Nikolai’s gorgeous, 60” pectorals, which were dominated by a pair of dark, fleshy areolae and huge nipples that projected half an inch outward. Under his monstrous pectoral muscles, his fat-free abs featured an 8-pack of cobblestone-sized muscles and crisscrossing veins. The rest of his body carried the height advantage he had over the other two as well. Just like them, Nikolai’s new body was a sculpted perfection. Wide lats, tremendous upper body, 35” thighs, and stupendous calf muscles all tied to a trim, 34” waist. In between the tree-trunk thighs, his limp cock measured over 14” in length, and was quite similar to Jason’s in girth and its vein-lined appearance. A pair of grapefruit-sized balls competed with each other for space as they were pushed forward by his rock-hard quads, and they in turn forced his cock forward. The footsteps and voices of a group of people approaching from several hundred meters alerted the three super mutants and stopped their examination of each other’s godly physiques short. Heightened as their senses were, they knew the security force was coming their way to secure their test subjects and precious, yet ultimately lost, Extrigen crystal. As the footsteps grew closer, the three super mutants looked at each other and as if reaching an unspoken understanding, readied themselves for a fight. --End of prologue— For full-resolution photos, plus a few other extra stuff including a bonus character, visit my morph thread here. Also, thank you for reading! Feedback/comments are very welcomed. p/s: No idea when/if I'd write the next chapter though.
  9. UNO El asunto del pecho de Nico al parecer era muy conocido. Nico y yo eramos amigos desde jardín. Habíamos ido a la misma primaria y cuando entramos en la segundaria nuestros padres eligieron mandarnos a colegios diferentes. De todos modos todavía seguiamos siendo amigos y cada tanto solíamos invitarnos a dormir. Durante los años de secundaria la mamá de Nico había decidido darle pastillas para el crecimiento, ella era una mujer petisa y tenía miedo de que su hijo no creciera demasiado. A Nico el asunto lo tenía sin problema y hasta ese momento él no había sido más bajo o más alto que nadie en el colegio. Pero a medida que los años de secundario iban pasando las cosas empezaron a cambiar. Lo primero que sucedio es que la voz de Nico se volvió más gruesa. Después ocurrió que pegó un estirón y me sacó una cabeza. Nico siempre había sido muy jodón y desde entonces empezó a decirme enano. —¿Que hacés enano? ¿Que tal la vista desde el subsuelo? Después le creció el pecho. No fue algo progresivo, fue casi como de un día para otro. Dos enormes pectorales asomaron como montañas sobre su pecho. Nico se reía. Decía que sus amigos lo llamaban la tetona. Era un pecho impresionante, yo nunca había conocido a nadie con un pecho tan grande. No era desproporcionado sino que era del tamaño perfecto, ancho y suave. No caía como esas tetas de viejos de 60 o de gordos a los que se les cae la grasa. Era un pecho grande, simplemente como si se le hubiera expandido la caja torásica y le hubieran crecido los músculos. Entonces ocurrió que Nico empezó a coger. Eso le causaba gracia, decía que las chicas le tocaban el pecho todo el día. —Les encanta —decía cuando se quitaba la remera y se miraba frente al espejo. Nico no tenía un gramo de grasa, no es que fuera super musculoso, solo que su cuerpo emanaba fuerza y energía sexual. Se paraba frente al espejo y se masajeaba el pecho mientras decía. —Les encanta. No sabés como me tocan todo el pecho, se vuelven locas —y después se miraba de costado y de frente—. Lo tengo enorme. ¿Que te parece, enano? ¿Te parece que tengo el pecho muy grande? ¿Me lo querés tocar? —Salí, boludo —le decía yo y él se cagaba de risa. Después se agarraba el pecho con ambas manos y decía: —Tetas de hombre —y eso era todo. Al parecer sus amigos también cargaban con eso. Le decían la tetona y a Nico le encantaba. Siempre que podía se sacaba la remera. —¡Salí de acá tetona! —le decían sus amigos. —¡Dejá de mostrar las tetas! Pero a Nico eso no lo intimidaba y siempre decía: —¿Querés tocarme las tetas? ¡Dale, veni! ¡Tocame las tetas! Una vez en su cumpleaños uno de sus amigos empezó a cargarlo con eso de las tetas grandes. Nico se sacó la remera y dijo: —Veni si sos macho, dale, tocame las tetas. El amigo fue y empezó a tocarle el pecho. —¡Aw Nico! —decía haciéndose el que se calentaba, mientras todos se cagaban de risa—. Que fuerte que sos, que pecho de macho que tenés, que tetas, que fuerte que sos. Tetas Nico, tetas, dame tus tetas. Y todos se morían de risa, incluso Nico. Para ese entonces yo le llegaba tan solo hasta la linea de sus pectorales. Para mí Nico se estaba volviendo un gigante. Por esa época Nico empezó a juntarse con otros amigos más grandes que nosotros. En especial con uno que se llamaba Juanito. Yo no lo conocía pero al parecer Juanito estaba todo el tiempo hablando de sexo, de tetas, de conchas, de pijas, de minas y de como cogérselas. Todo el material que Nico traía a mi casa las noches que venía a dormir era de Juanito. Así fue como empezó a traer fotos de minas en bolas, con unas tetas enormes o cogiendo. Cuando mis papás se habían ido a dormir pausábamos el jueguito que estuvieramos jugando y nos poníamos a ver las fotos. —Mirá esta hija de puta, como me la cogería —decía Nico mientras se tocaba la pija debajo del pantalón. Un día así fue como empezamos a pajearnos. Nico trajo unas fotos, nos sentamos frente al monitor y él dijo: —Boludo, pajiémosnos —y sin esperar que yo dijera nada se sacó la remera y se desabrochó el pantalón. La pija que salió era enorme, yo nunca había visto una pija tan grande en mi vida. En especial porque la mia era bastante chiquita; la de Nico parecía diez veces mas grande. —Dale, boludo, ¿Que esperas? —me dijo Nico mientras se masturbaba y su pija crecía y crecía. —Boludo, la tenés enorme —le dije. —El otro día la medimos con Juanito —dijo Nico mientras se masturbaba—. Treinta y cinco centímetros. Yo saqué la mia y empezé a pajearme. —Boludo, ¿Que es eso? —me preguntó—. Tenés un mani. Le pegué en el hombro y me fui al baño. —¡Boludo, no te enojes, es un chiste! Cuando salí del baño Nico había vuelto a jugar a los jueguitos. Me pidió perdón y jugamos hasta que se hizo de madrugada. Otro día vino con una sonrisa en la cara. —Tengo unas fotos que te vas a morir. Se hizo de madrugada y me mostró lo que había traido. Por alguna razón las pasaba bien rápido, hasta que llegó a la foto que me quería mostrar. Era la foto de una pija enorme. Solo se veía la pija y un poco de las piernas y la panza. Se notaba que era un hombre musculoso. —¿Cual decís que es mas grande? —preguntó—. Esa o la mia. Y sin esperar mas se bajó el pantalón y empezó a pajearse. Antes de que estuviera toda parada se sacó la remera y mientras con una mano se masturbaba con la otra empezó a tocarse el pecho: esas enormes tetas musculosos que tenía. Cuando estuvo del todo parada Nico se paró y dijo: —¿Y? ¿Cual decís que es mas grande? Mire ambas pijas, eran las dos enormes, simplemente enormes y gruesas. —No sé, parecen igual de grandes. —¿Vos decís? —Yo creo que la del chabon es mas grande —dijo Nico mientras se masajeaba una teta. A la siguiente vez trajo un video porno y algo que había aprendido. Juanito le había enseñado a hacer competencias de wascasos. —Nos pajeamos y el que aguanta mas y acaba mas gana. Pusimos el video y nos empezamos a pajear. La pija monstruosa de Nico se paró como un mástil. La mia apenas lograba ponerse dura. Heché una mirada a las enormes tetas de Nico y acabé. El wascaso entró en mi mano como un chicle. —¿Ya estás? Ja, ¡que chabón! Nico se siguió pajeando y pajeando. Se tocaba las tetas y se masajeaba la pija con una y con las dos manos. —Tengo la pija enorme, boludo —decía—, casi tan grande como mis tetas. Mirá el tamaño de mis tetas, boludo. Estoy enorme. Tengo mas tetas que la puta esa —dijo y se puso de pie. Fue al baño y dijo: —Mirá esto, enano. Me paré al lado y vi salir un chorro de wasca como si hubiera abierto una canilla. —Te lleno la bañera de leche, boludo. Jaja, mirá toda la leche que tengo. Otra vez me dijo: —Boludo, nos tenemos que pajear cruzado. Es zarpado. —¿Que? ¿Cruzado? —Si boludo, yo te pajeo a vos y vos a mi. —Dejate de joder, boludo, no te quiero tocar la pija. —Boludo, es lo mismo. ¿Que te cambia? Es una pija. Los dos tenemos una pija... Y puso un video de una mina a la que se la cogían tres tipos. Nico sacó su pija y yo hice lo mismo. —¿Así toda floja? —le pregunté. —Dale, boludo —dijo y me sacó la mano y me agarró la pija con dos dedos. Su mano era mucho mas grande que la mia y entre sus dedos mi pija todavía parecía mas chica. Se me paró al toque. —Dale, agarrame, boludo. Agarré su enorme pija con una mano y empecé a subir y bajar. Nunca había sentido una pija tan grande. Acabé en un segundo. —¡aw, boludo! Me llenaste la mano de leche. Tenés que controlarla, forro. Se limpió con mi remera y después se puso en cueros. —Ahora termina con la mia. Le agarré la pija temblando. Había crecido por la mitad, pero ya era algo impresionante. Un segundo después se puso tan dura como una piedra y tan gruesa que apenas podía rodearla con mi mano. —Apretá con fuerza, boludo. ¡Dale! ¡Ponele ganas! –Estoy apretando todo lo que puedo. —Dale, boludo, ¿me estás jodiendo? —Forro, la tenés enorme. —Dale pelotudo, apretá en serio. ¿Así te pajeas? —Boludo, no tengo la culpa que tengas una pija gigante. —Usá las dos manos. Agarré su pija con las dos manos y Nico empezó a tocarse las tetas. —Uh, que grande que la tengo, mirá tus manitos, son diminutas. Ja! Dale, pajeame con ganas. Jaja, mirá el tamaño de esa pija. Dios, que grande que estoy. Y ahí sin pensar en lo que hacía se la chupé. Nico me empujó y se puso de pie. —¿Que hacés, boludo? ¿Sos puto? —dijo y me pegó una piña en el hombro que me tiró al suelo. Nico debía pesar el doble que yo, tenía una fuerza que yo no podía imaginar. Se vistió, se subió el pantalón y se fue. A los pocos días alguien tocó el timbre de casa. Era Nico. —¿Puedo pasar? Le dije que si. Nos sentamos en mi cama y no dijimos nada. Después nos pusimos a jugar al street fighter. Cuando se hizo la madrugada Nico puso pausa y dijo: –¿Me querés chupar la pija? No respondí. Nico se sacó la ropa, estaba mas enorme que nunca. Se paró delante mio mientras se masturbaba. Yo veía su inmensa pija crecer y crecer y crecer sobre mi cabeza y en lo alto sus enormes tetas musculosos moviéndose suavemente. Cuando estuvo parada Nico agarró me puso una mano en la cabeza y me acercó a su pija. Me resistí, cerré la boca con fuerza y me apretó la poronga gigante contra el cachete haciendo presión. —Dale, abrí la boca, enano. Me apretaba con la pija. —Dale, mirá lo grande que la tengo, dale puto. Entonces abrí la boca e intenté morderlo, pero era tan grande que no pude cerrar la boca. —Así me gusta, putito, chupame la pija —decía mientra me sostenía la cabeza con una mano y con la otra se tocaba las tetas—. Awww que bien que chupas, enano. Chupamela toda, dale. ¿Te gusta? Mira lo grande que la tengo. Dale, chupame toda la pija, dale, mirá lo grande que es. Es enorme. La tengo re dura. ¿Te gusta eso? Dale, chupame las bolas, Jaja, que puto que sos enano. Te morías de ganas de chuparme la pija. ¡Que chabón! Dale, hasta el fondo, jajaja te vas a atragantar. La tengo muy grande. Uh me vas a hacer acabar —dijo y me agarró la cabeza con fuerza para que no me moviera—. ¡Tomá puto! ¡Tomate toda la leche que tengo! Dijo y acabó una cantidad imposible de wasca. Hasta el punto que me atraganté y me salió por la nariz. Casi me ahogo tomándome la leche de Nico. —Boludo, casi me matás —le dije y le empecé a pegar en el pecho, en ese increible y enorme pecho musculoso que sus amigos llamaban tetas de hombre. Tetas de hombre, enormes y cubiertas de una capa de pelo. Me cansé de pegarle y empecé a acariciarle el pecho. Era una masa enorme de músculos perfectos. —Jajaj, mirá como quedaste chabón —dijo Nico mientras yo le tocaba el pecho como si no se diera cuenta que lo estaba tocando. Me limpió la cara con un pañuelo mientras yo seguía tocando su pecho —¿Te gustan mis tetas? —dijo y las flexionó para que yo viera lo duras que eran. Yo lo tocaba y lo tocaba mientras sentía la enorme fuerza de su pecho bajo mi manos. Ese pecho inmenso y lleno de musculos que todavía estaba creciendo. Y sin mas se le paró la pija otras vez y me agarró la cabeza para que se la chupara de nuevo. Así empezamos.
  10. ZFerrari

    no sex Ethan...

    You know, you would think since your best friend is this muscular kid, life would be easier. But not for good ole Randy. Yes my name is Randy and my best friend is a muscular arrogant guy for his age. This kid is only 17. Ethan is a different breed I tell you. He apparently has this hereditary ability to grow his muscles to his max ability. If he wants grow bigger he has to workout more to reach another limit. I would call complete bullshit if I didnt see this at the pool the other day. However I do call bullshit that its hereditary. Hell if i know it was probably from the wishirite. But thats a myth. We were at the pool with Rachel, Jacob and Don. He has this huge crush on Rachel, and I can't be mad at him. This blonde chick is cute. I guess he wanted to surprise her. And wanted everybody else to see him destroy don since nobody knew about his power but me. Don was already muscular but he got that naturally. Ethan hates not being the only muscular one in our friend circle, thats why he doesn't like don. I respect don though, he's not arrogant but has a lil bit of bitch tendencies. Rachel was on the side laying on a chair when Ethan walked up. I'm in the pool wrestling with Jacob. I look over, to see Rachel now talking to Ethan. He's making her laugh. "My boy" I thought to myself smiling. That distraction gave Jacob the perfect time to drag me under the water. Don comes out the bathroom to see them talking. He calmly walks over to Ethan, taps him on the shoulder and punches him off the chair. I'm sorry I saw that. I couldnt help but laugh. But that doesn't really sit well with Ethan. "Hey asshole!" Ethan yells. Don just ignores him. "Dickhead!!" Ethan yells. Don looks at him and does the most disrespectful thing. He picks Ethan up and Yeets him into the pool, on tol of Jacob. I couldnt help but laugh even harder, cuz that shit was hilarious. Ethan and jacob rise back above the water, and Ethan's death stare shuts me up. He then grins, and winks at me. Thats a sign cuz I know whats about to happen Rachel doesn't know what to make of the situation she just saw. She just sat there with her mouth open. "Hey don" Ethan says with an evil smirk on his face. Don turns around to Ethan flexing both his biceps. "Hope your ready for a show." Don gives this confused look on what's he supposed to be seeing. Don saw 2 arms built like walking sticks. He assert dominance by flexing his own biceps. Veins run all over his 18 inch biceps. His face smiling from flexing as hard as he could, but quickly relxaxed into a shocked face as he saw Ethan's biceps slowly growing. Growing passing 16 inches and keeps going. 17, 18, 19 inches surpassing both Don and his own personal record and 19 inches and finally stops at 20 inches. Don now dumbfounded relazes his whole body and stares. Ethan now laughing grows,mor eof his body. Starting with the forearms to match his biceps. Veins running everywhere around his arms. Then his lats and pecs. His pecs start growing out from his chest. His chest expands and contracts from his breathing. His stomach contracts then 1 by 1 each ab pops in you can hear pop after pop when each an pops in. Ethan at this is now laughing sinisterly, while Jacob Don and Rachel are staring at them now in a huddle. I'm still in the pool shaling my head wondering whats gonna happen when he's done. His abs now form a firm six pack running with veins. His legs now explode with power, growing out to form bodybuilder legs. All his muscles are now bulging with power. To intimidate Don, he hits a most muscukar and his muscles now explode tremendously. "Did y'all enjoy?" Erhan asked. Rachel and Jacob claps. Don looks at me and says "Your boy is a freak." I nod and say "I know". Before Don can turn back around, Ethan picks Don up with one hand, punches him with the other hand and Yeets him into the pool landing next to me. After a couple seconds, Don rises and with a bloody nose and says "I'm gonna beat your Ass one day" Ethan chuckles, flexes his pecs, and with an evil smile he says this: "Doubtful"
  11. THE TANK PROCEDURE You stand in the Beta chamber, across from Alpha, ass naked save for your dog tags. Attached via a tube extending from the top of the chamber to your face is a mask providing you with oxygen. Sweat rolls down your lean body as if you were standing in the rain. It must be a thousand fucking degrees in here, you think while you wait. You knew it would be hot – the machine gives off a lot of heat while warming up the gamma rays. At least that's what the nerds told you – those top secret army boys in lab coats outside the chambers, turning dials and looking at screens with strange numbers and diagrams on them. You sigh in boredom. You've been waiting for what feels like an hour now, starting to wish you never signed up for this top secret experiment. Why is it even top secret? you wonder. You fail to grasp why a procedure involving a “minor” increase in strength and endurance should be kept behind closed doors. “The Tank Procedure,” they called it – because a “tank is what you'll become!” You still remember your commander selling it to you like an infomercial. But whatever – you figure a little bit more muscle wouldn't hurt. And you're always ready to serve. You turn your attention to the soldier in the Alpha chamber across from you. He stands at six feet, completely upright and at attention. Like you he sports a buzz cut, and bears the same dog tags and oxygen mask. You can make out the faint outline of a six pack. Maybe I'll have one of those after this! You sneak a peak at his package – equally impressive. Suddenly, an alarm sounds, and a robotic voice announces “PARAMETERS READY. INITIATING TRANSFORMATION ON CHAMBER ALPHA.” Your heart skips a beat – somewhat relieved you aren't first. You watch as the chamber fills up with viscous fluid that, when full, lifts the soldier into the center effortlessly. He looks surprised. So that's what these masks are for, you realize. The speaker returns. “ALPHA CHAMBER LOADED. INITIATING METABOLIC TRANSFORMATION.” You hear a loud buzz and suddenly the clear fluid in Alpha's chamber glows a luminescent green. The soldier almost instantly starts convulsing in agony. Veins appear all over his body, glowing increasingly green. Your heart drops. You watch in horror as his muscles spasm all too quickly - growing with each spasm. He throws his arms back and you see a now entirely visible chiseled six pack, covered in green veins running to his cock. That's when you saw it – his blood rushing to his package. It forces his rod into a fully erect state. His balls too seem to grow – now larger now normal for any male body. You run your gaze back up his body, passing by two suddenly engorged pectorals. They heave up an down as the metamorphosis continues, supported now by heft shoulders and unnaturally large traps. You notice the soldier's expression – something of a mix between pain and... pleasure? Holy shit, you think, is he actually enjoying this? That's when you realize in terror – the serum flooding his cock – they were MAKING him enjoy it. His convulsions become quicker, and suddenly you hear his now booming voice from behind the thick glass of his chamber, muffled by the serum he is suspended in. “Fuck... FUCK. Too much! Turn it off! Mmmmm, fuck yeah – NO! FUCK NO! Ugh, ughhhhhh...” You turn read, heart pounding, unable to take your eyes away from the scene. His arms grow to inhuman lengths – his now bowling ball biceps being pumped larger, beyond all limits. His forearms take on a sharp and overworked look. The transformation grows his shoulders to unworldly proportions – the size of his fucking head! You realize against his now rock hard shoulders and roid-level traps that the soldier probably can't turn his head anymore. And it shows – his convulsions seem to slow, his new body strong enough to withstand them. As the radiation slows you stare in awe of the creature the military had created. What was once a man now stands a beast, only akin to his former self in some facial features, although even that was chiseled by the procedure. His seemingly small head rests on his now seven foot tall body, supported by a disproportionately wide wall of muscle you might call his chest. Even facing forward you can make out a ripped back, wings arrogantly displaying themselves, forcing the shoulders cannon sized arms apart. His core looks tight. Fuck! You realize the radiation has granted this monster not 6, or 8, but 10 MASSIVE bricks for abs. They run down in a percent V into his now foot long cock and engorged balls. It throbs up and down in testosterone-fueled agony. Below it extend tree-trunk sized quads, cannonball gluts, and mutated calves, now reaching the floor of the chamber. You wonder how any man's body could be made to look like such a bulging X. “METABOLIC TRANSORMATION COMPLETE. INITIATING TRAINING.” the announcer booms. Training? What the fuck is that? You hear the now animal grunts of the solder in Alpha chamber. He throws his arms and legs about, no longer in agony, but from the sound of it... horniness. You watch as his cock pumps out stream after stream of pre-cum. The beast looks like he's in incredible heat. You watch as each of his abs fight for dominance while he convulses, his watermelon pecs contracting and bulging in unison. His neck strains in desperate attempts to jerk himself off. Is there anything left of him? What did they do to him? Suddenly a red gird of light runs through the chamber. As it passes through the monster's body he stops, standing at attention – perfectly upright. You realize now he is not 7 – but 8 whole feet high! While standing at the ready his gaze falls on your eyes, causing you to take a step back. You realize he is not looking at you, but forward, as if awaiting a command. The lights rotate around the soldier, illuminating his godlike frame. You hear the faint sound of the announcer local to the soldier's chamber, and his baritone responses. “OBEY.” “I obey. I good boy.” “You will be made complete.” “I will be complete.” As the commands continue, each of the animal's responses become more and more human, yet... robotic – like a SOLDIER! “You are a TANK.” “I am .. TANK.” “You will serve the military perfectly.” “I will server the military perfectly!” “You will do justice for you country.” “I will obey and serve!” “What is your name?” “SOLDIER ALPHA-78!” “What are you?” “TANK!” “What is your purpose?” “To obey and serve, SIR!” “COMMENCING ARMOR SYNTHESIS. STAND AT THE READY.” “SIR. YES. SIR!” You watch as the soldier close his eyes and lose himself in ecstasy – as if the program had somehow triggered an orgasm. Gallon after gallon of his mutated cum exits his bowling balls through his steel grade rod, mixing with the serum of the chamber. After a full minute of unending pleasure, the serum starts to coagulate against the soldiers body, now familiar with his genetic code. As he stands perfectly still, the serum hardens layer by layer against his skin. After a while it takes on a metallic, chrome finish. Despite adding a few inches of mass, the metal coat conforms perfectly to the soldiers curvature. Not a crevice is filled in the valley of his abs. Every bulging vein on his arms, legs, and monster cock where left pronounced. Even his nips, jutting far forward off the slabs of meat that where his pecs, could still be made out. At the end there was no serum left in the chamber. Before you stands not a man, nor animal, but impressive military-grade machine of raw power and steel skin. Shaking in terror you watch the soldier open his metallic eyes. They glow a bright red – the same red as the grid that had “trained” him before. His speaks. His voice shakes the room. “TANK SOLDIER ALPHA-78 - READY FOR DUTY - SIR!” Your heart pounds. What is this? This isn't what you signed up for... or was it? What did the contract say? Did you even read it? Your mind races, but is silenced by the announcer. “ALPHA TRANSFORMATION COMPLETE. INITIATING TRANSFORMATION BETA.” Your're next.
  12. A short story... You know you'd do it differently. If you could decide again you know you'd have started in your room. Just push ups. Simple squats. Asking for that beginners set of dumbells for Christmas. You remember that. When you were ready, you'd join the gym. You wouldn't be shy. You'd read everything you could. Pictures of the greats torn from magazines and plastered on your wall. And slowly you'd grow. Enough to be asked to flex by your friends as you laugh and pretend to be embarrassed. But you'd grow; surpassing half your peers. Then most of your peers. Sport is good, but it's not good for what you desire; for what you want your body to become. Surpassing those peers one year, two years above you. Huge. Growing. So big already but just starting out. Buy that one size too small. Let them see. Let them understand. Reward yourself. When you finally got your hands on 'it'; you made the ultimate sacrifice, putting the 'best years of your life' on the altar of growth. Grotesquely large muscles piling on to your frame, veins cascading down each peak. Thanks to 'it'. Unblemished skin contorted into an acne ridden stetch marked surface. For 'it.' Hair drawing back, brow, jaw shaped by the internal external, fighting against your expected appearance. No longer your father's son. 'It's' child. An inch, maybe two of height snatched by 'it'. For 'it' is now you. You are now the biggest in your neighbourhood. You're talked about. Envied. So now. Where are you today? Right now. Well that's up to you. Did you condition to compete? Winning everything. Deals. Sponsorships. Are you now number one on the stage, flexing for the world. Greedy for glory. Did you get the growth bug; did you start powerlifting, building brute strength, mass, neck buried in muscle? The biggest, strongest. Are you a muscled model; perfect. Naked. Porn and fitness star. Is that you know? Or did you refuse to be anything; just lifting, growing, changing; a big knot of massive ugly, veined, bloated waddling muscle. Just for you. Only you know. But whatever became of you is exactly what you knew you had to be.
  13. The story began: here. Part 2 is found: here. Descent into growth Part 3 When the day came, everything seemed so normal, and so matter-of-fact. The four of you were sitting at the breakfast table, the kitchen-staff and the cleaners suitably preoccupied somewhere else. You, little Rob and Mr. Vanderwesthuisen were eating the usual high-protein breakfasts you had all become familiar with in the last few weeks. Nate wasn't eating anything. "How do you feel after a night on nutrition-IV?", you asked Nate. The sinewy little fighter beamed of restless energy, and the scent of shower gel and anti-perspirant steamed from his tight and hard little body. "Feels weird to not eat breakfast with you, but I feel ok. I'm not hungry. Actually, I'm full." "And how did this morning's workout go?", Mr. Vanderwesthuisen asked, with an eager voice. In the last days building up for the main experiment, Mr. Vanderwesthuisen had become restless. Restless and eager. His, sometimes arrogant, eyes now burned with curiosity. Nate smiled, unknowingly allowing his smile to hit you all like a flash. His golden brown eyes glittered in mischief and cockyness: "Feel pumped and sore, in a good way. Loved the full-body workout Doc prescribed before the experiment. Wasn't sure if I would follow through till I reached the last exercise, but I did, prolly 'cause Doc's super-nutrition. Lifted more heavy, than I thought possible without a pre-workout." Nate returned to addressing you: "Now. What's next?" You swallowed your scrambled eggs, and cleared your throat. "As I told you before. I had to assess, that you had recovered from the virus, that spread your new improved DNA. It seems like you have. Then, you had to spend one night with the nutrition-IV and follow that up with a full-body-workout schedule, in order to ensure, that all your muscles will be in a state receptive for ultra-enhanced recovery and hypertrophy, which they now are. Next step is to inject you with a formula, which will increase your production of beneficial hormones and decrease your myostatin. It will also ..." "What's myostatin?" It was Rob who answered: "It's a chemical in your body, setting a limit to how big your muscles become. We are removing that limit." Then he fell silent and blushed, because he might have had spoken out of bounds. Your protective instincts rose again. During the months together, the short and portly lab-assistant had gradually revealed a bright intellect and a witty sense of humour under the surface of shyness. He had once described himself as "belonging to the repressed middle-class" and Nate "belonging to the oppressed working-class". He had also confided in you, that he felt of two minds about working for Mr. Vanderwesthuisen: "Am I a hypocrite, because I now work for Mr. Vanderwesthuisen, when I protested against the 1% as a student? This income. That insurance. Free accommodation. The beach. The gym. This job is too good to be true. Thanks for coaching me, by the way." The enthusiastic voice of Nate brought you back to the present: "No limits. Exploding testo. Ultra-enhanced recovery. I love this." You took up the thread where you had lost it: "The formula will also contain an analgesic, specially designed to remove any pain from growing bone tissue and muscle tissue. You will remain awake, and you will retain your sense of touch and temperature." "Analgesic?", Nate asked. "Painkiller.", Rob prompted. When you left the dining room for the laboratory, Nate gave Rob an encouraging thump in the back, in a gesture you had seen jocks use at your gym. Rob returned the gesture with a few awkward pats on Nate's back. You had seen the relation between the two young men improve. In the first weeks, Nate had avoided the fancy-talking lab assistant, and Rob had shyly avoided working out in the gym when Nate was exercising. More recently, they had warmed up to each other, and found some shared ground in films and computer games. Nate had even, unexpectedly, taken over your role as Rob's coach at the gym. Three of you had the access code to the Lab. There were emergency doors made of armour-plating and lead-plates connected to detectors, in case any dangerous substance or radiation would begin to leak. When you entered the Lab, several different scents greeted you: Shavings and the scent of rodents from the guineapig cages, cleaning solution, methylated spirits and the indescribable dry sort of smell present in areas where high-voltage equipment is running. You switched on the computer, on which you stored and ran the morphogenetic fields, and you switched on the computer, that controlled the levels of anabolic radiation and hypertrophic power. Little Rob checked the gas canisters and the hose connecting the cannister and the Test Chamber. "Will you write the present stats down, Rob, will you?" Rob did: "Height: 5'6''. "Weight: 145 lbs "Chest: 36 inches "Waist: 27 inches You were too preoccupied with the preparations to notice the size of Nate's firm, but apple-sized, bicepses. The Test Chamber was warming up, and you were fetching the serum in the refrigerator. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen was watching the procedure with great interest. You had tried to advice him, not to attend something, that was purely a scientific pursuit, but he had insisted. Your scientific instincts disagreed: A medical experiment isn't some sort of entertainment. The tacky green interior lighting lit up the Test Chamber, and you remembered Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's flippant comment: "You have to cheer the test-subjects up. They will feel more Hulk-like, in that illumination." You dabbed the crook of Nate's right arm with alcohol, and then gave him the injection. This was the point of no return. The chemical compounds and the altered DNA had now begun to interact inside the wiry little fighter. No-one knew for sure, what the added effect of the gas, the anabolic radiation and the hypertrophic power would lead to, but if the guineapigs were giving you any clues, the result would be rather sensational. You and Nate watched each other in silence, and you fell short of words, because of the gravity of the situation. Nate gave little Rob a hug, and entered the sluice. The interior atmosphere was pumped into the sluice, and Nate was able to enter. You were ready to begin the experiment. It was Mr. Vanderwesthuisen who broke the silence: "And so it begins." * * * Part 4 is found: here.
  14. Dr. Robinsen’s pecs bounced as they slowly expanded out in the now loose fitting t-shirt, covered by a white lab coat. Drinking the serum had been a mistake but it had to be tested on someone and the doctor didn’t trust anybody else. The room was spinning, vertigo was giving way to darkness, as the unfortunate scientist fell unconscious onto the lab bench, sending unlabeled bottles of mysterious chemicals flying. Outside the manor house, a young junior executive for Body Connections stood knocking at the door. His company had recently purchased a muscle growth enhancement formula from Dr. Robinsen and he had traveled out to the country in person to pick it up. A butler answered the door, “Terry Jones, here to see Dr. Robinsen.” He said. “You’re expected, the doctor is in the laboratory. I’m to take you there.” He said leading the way through the impressive manor house. On the wall was a portrait of a man next to his wife and kids. He assumed that was the doctor, although he was feeling guilty about not looking up any information on the Dr. Robinsen before hand. At the end of a long hallway was a steel door. The butler opened it and stood back. “The laboratory is in there.” He pointed and walked away. Terry walked into the poorly lit room that smelled of chemicals and animal cages, a little annoyed at being left to find his own way. Then in an instant his heart jumped into his mouth as he saw a man slumped over onto one of the lab benches. Terry ran over and lifted his head. He had very smooth skin apart from the five o’clock shadow that covered his face. His long blond hair was tied up into a ponytail making him look more like a Vegas magician than a doctor. He certainly wasn’t the man from the portrait. “Dr. Robinsen?” He shouted, shaking the unconscious man in front of him with difficulty due to his powerful muscular frame. He slowly opened his eyes. “Yes? What is it?” He said in a stupor, then his eyes opened widely. He felt his chest and then his arms. “Oh no...” He said moving his hands over his mouth. Jumping out of his stool so quickly that he knocked it over, he ran to a mirror and felt his face and body. “Dr. Robinsen… I… uh… I’m here for the formula. You said we could pick it up today. I’ve been authorized to sign a contract for you for fifty million dollars for the exclusive right to manufacture it.” He had to repeat himself several times before the doctor would even acknowledge him. Finally he twirled around and said, “No no! It’s not ready! I have to fix… gnnnn” The sentence was cut short as his hands grabbed his stomach and he bent over on the floor. “GNNNNN” Terry watched as the doctor’s body heaved with labored breathing. Veins began to pop out in his neck. “Should I call 911?” He asked. “No!” He bellowed and them grabbed his throat as shoulders began to expand again. Terry could see the sleeves of his lab coat filling out as the doctor’s biceps and triceps inflated. Was this the growth serum?! How could it be working this quickly? Terry ran up Dr. Robinsen and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “What’s happening?!” But he didn’t need an answer, he could feel the deltoid under his hand swelling against his fingers. The doctors pecs were imprinting themselves against the t-shirt and stretching it out so much he could hear the fibers straining. The doctor looked down and grabbed his crotch, feeling incredible pain as he looked down in horror at the bulge that was fighting it’s way against some very tight jeans. “AGHHHH!” He shouted, quickly unbuttoning them and pulling out a 9’’ soft cock and balls the size of lemons. “Oh god no!” He shouted. At that moment his pecs and deltoids had swollen so much that they tore his t-shirt down the front revealing his rock hard core, framed by the lab coat and the torn t-shirt. His biceps burst through the sleeves of the white coat as they swelled out like two massive boulders. Terry backed away, afraid of what was happening as the prostrate man before him groaned in pain. His denim ripped with an awful sound revealing two massive undulating thighs and an expanding bubble butt. “Fuck… it’s too much! Got the… ratios wrong!” He grunted as his body continued to swell including his feet which he was desperately working to pull out of his shoes. Inch by inch the doctor grew taller and the expanding body ripped through the tattered remnants of his clothes. His balls sank lower, swelling to the size of baseballs as his 11’’ soft cock drooped over his massively swelling thighs. His lats pushed those massive arms outward as his back thickened with extreme definition. He struggled to stand as his traps fully engulfed his neck and his pecs continued to swell, forcing his nipples downward. He looked at his body in horror and looked up at Terry. “Get out!” He roared. “Get out now!” He said throwing over a lab bench. Terry bolted from the lab and down the hall without looking where he was going causing him to collide with a portly man in his fifties. “What the hell is going on down there!?” He shouted. Terry recognized him from the painting in the hall. “Dr. Robinsen!” He shouted. “There’s a man in there, you...your assistant maybe. He’s changing… going berserk!” “What are you talking about? I’m Johnathan Robinsen. Dr. Robinsen is my wife!” Terry’s eyes grew round as saucers. “Ohhhh dear… I… I… think she may want some time to herself right now.” He said and ran out the front door.
  15. Timothy Ryan was your average guy. He was funny and polite. People generally liked him when they noticed him. The problem was that didn’t happen often. For one thing, he was somewhat shy, for another he was about 70 lbs overweight. All throughout high school, he struggled with eating healthy and felt self conscious about going to the gym, making it difficult to change anything. Still he had his core group friends and he was relatively happy with that. Unfortunately for Timothy, going off to college would mean leaving those friends behind. His freshman year was a struggle. It’s not that people actively disliked him, they just didn’t notice him. It’s very difficult to be surrounded by thousands of people your age and feeling completely invisible. That’s when he decided things had to change. In the first 18 months of college, he practically reinvented himself. He started lifting weights, counting calories, jogging, and swimming. He lost 85 pounds, gained a six pack, and started introducing himself as Tim. He went from chubby to toned and suddenly people started noticing him. The people in his dorm asked him if he had just transferred at the beginning of his sophomore year even though he’d been living there for a year. He got invited to parties and guys started talking to him on grindr. Tim found he enjoyed the attention quite a bit. So he started posting pictures of himself shirtless on facebook. He got the usual likes and comments from his friends and crushes but he wanted more. So he got an instagram account and started posting pictures of himself. Yet, for someone hooked on attention, the process of racking up followers was painfully slow. That is, until he met Scott. He didn’t know Scott in person but when this gorgeous muscular hunk wanted to friend him and DM, Tim was quick to accept. They chatted quite a bit, exchanged pics and developed an online friendship to the point where Tim would tell him just about anything. “Fuck man, you’ve got hundreds of thousands of followers,” Tim messaged one day. “I wish I could have that.” “You don’t think 500 is enough?” Scott replied. Tim furrowed his brow. Obviously it wasn’t, but Scott looked like a sports model. As much as Tim liked showing off his new body, he felt he didn’t measure up to someone like Scott and he felt like that would never happen. “I just want everyone to notice me. I’ve gone my entire life being ignored and I guess I think it’s my time to shine.” “You’re pretty cute,” Scott said. “I’m sure you’ll get plenty of followers in time.” “Not fast enough,” said Tim. “Well… there is a way you can speed things up,” said Scott. “There’s a program that you can use on your pics to make them stand out more but you can only get it on the dark web, so I don’t know if it’s for you.” “What does it do?” Tim asked, instantly curious about anything that would help his stuff get likes. “It makes you more… noticeable,” said Scott. “It’s hard to explain. But if you’re interested I can show you how to get it.” Tim immediately agreed and Scott told him what he had to do. The websites he had to go to in order to find it were pretty sketchy and he couldn’t imagine all of the viruses he was risking but he was desperate. Once he had the program he opened it and a black box appeared. “Ok, now what do I do?” Tim asked. “Drag and drop a picture into it.” Scott replied. “Pick a good one, it only takes one.” Tim searched through his selfies and selected a locker room pic that made him look the most “swole”. Then he dragged it over to the black box. Suddenly the screen went blue and his computer crashed. “FUCK!” he shouted. He had nothing to worry about. Everything started back up without any trouble but the program he downloaded was gone. “Jesus that thing was probably a virus! Glad my computer got rid of it.” But he noticed a new picture file on his desktop. He opened it and it was the same locker room picture from before but with a little wink emoji in the corner. “Wait… that’s it? It’s the same stupid picture.” “Scott… what was that?” He DM’ed. “I went through all of that work, my computer crashed, and all that happened was it put an emoji on my picture. That’s so dumb.” “Just upload it.” Was Scott’s only reply. Tim thought for a minute and decided “Why not?” And it was done. Then he realized it was 2 am and he had class in the morning. So without even saying goodnight, he jacked off, closed his laptop, and went to bed. He felt like he’d only been asleep for five minutes when the alarm went off. Half asleep, threw on a pair of workout shorts, grabbed a towel and his toiletries and went out into the hall to the bathroom. He hopped into one of the showers, washed up, then wrapped the towel around his waist and started brushing his teeth without looking in the mirror. It was always fogged over in the morning. “Hey Timmy, been hitting the gym a little hard.” His friend John said slapping him on the shoulder. “Huh?” Tim said in a stupor. “Thanks man.” He continued brushing his teeth, a little more awake after the compliment when several other people came in and noticed he’d been working out too. This was bizarre. He saw these people every morning as he got ready. Maybe he looked extra pumped today. He wanted to know. Waiting until no one was around he whipped off his towel and used it to wipe off the mirror and gasped. His pecs were several inches bigger than they had been. His biceps were swollen too. He had gone from thin and athletic to almost beefy overnight. He stood there gaping at himself. Then he noticed his cock was an inch or two longer as well. “What the fuck...” “Hey Timmy, you mind wrapping up? You can stare at yourself in your room. I need the sink!” John said, stepping out from the shower. “I uh… yeah… sorry… I just… sorry man.” Tim said grabbing his things and wrapping the towel around his waist before heading back to his room. He skipped class that morning. As he looked through the pictures on his phone. He took selfies almost every day. How could he not have noticed how big he was getting? But when he looked at the pictures he’d taken of himself that week, none of them matched what he saw in the mirror. He stepped on the scale he kept in his room, it read 180 lbs. He’d gained 20 pounds over night. Then he noticed his Instagram was blowing up. Opening it, he saw that he’d gotten five hundred likes on that picture he had posted the night before and a bunch of new followers. Not only that, the picture now matched his current physique. The emoji had changed to a surprise face. “What the…?” Then he noticed the new message from Scott. “Morning. I see you tried out the new Instagram filter.” “What are you talking about?” Tim wrote back. “That program you downloaded,” said Scott. “It’s an Instagram filter that changes you instead of the picture. The more likes, comments and attention it gets, the more you change. The more you change, the more people notice you and the more attention you get. Then the picture is updated to reflect what you look like.” “But my computer deleted that program!” “Deleted it? You just downloaded it into your body.” “How is that even possible?” “Iunno, but look at yourself in a mirror and tell me it isn’t true.” Scott replied. “Jesus, WHAT DO I DO!?” Tim wrote. “Umm… enjoy it… jeeze you were just complaining about not getting any attention. Now you can get all kinds of attention. Also, didn’t you say you had an exam today, I think I’d be getting ready for that.” “Oh god… the exam...” Tim said out loud. He looked at the clock. He had 15 minutes to get to class before they shut the doors. He hunted around for clothes that would fit him properly. He had been accustomed to wearing tight fitting things before and none of those shirts would go past his shoulders. Eventually he settled on a pair of workout shorts and a button up that his mother had gotten him for Christmas. He had rarely worn it before because it fit somewhat loosely on it. But it fit his chest perfectly now. He ran across campus just in time to take his seat. The exam was 10 pages long and he tried to concentrate on his work but he kept thinking about what was happening to his body. Then, as he turned to page four of the exam his phone started to vibrate. What was going on. Suddenly his chest felt like it was getting tighter and he realized. The phone was giving him notifications that people were liking and commenting on his picture. Someone with a ton of followers must have shared it. The vibrations came in so continuously that they were beginning to disturb people nearby. But more disturbing for Tim was that his arms were beginning to get tight in his button up. His pecs started to stretch the shirt as his growing delts made it difficult to maneuver in. Tim unbuttoned his top buttons to relieve some of the strain but the phone kept vibrating away and his body continued to quietly swell right there in an auditorium filled with hundreds of students and he was sitting close to the front row. He felt an extreme tightness in his briefs. His nuts began to hurt as they strained against the tight fabric. His swelling bubble butt was stretching the seems. Tim was starting to question why he always had to go for that sexy tight underwear. Everything was getting skin tight. His pecs and back strained against his button down shirt. He tried to get up to leave but he heard a ripping sound when he moved causing him to freeze in terror as nervous sweat soaked into to every fabric and his phone continued to vibrate with a frenzy of instagram activity. Then he realized something to his horror. If he was getting more buff, the picture was getting more buff. More people were going to like it. Without warning a button popped from his shirt like a cork from a bottle of champagne. It pinged against the front podium causing the professor to look up to see what had made the noise. Tim tried to get up to leave but his thighs were larger than he remembered and getting out of the tight desk was difficult. The movements caused his shirt to give way into loud rips as more buttons went flying. The elastic snapped on his briefs inside of his gym shorts which were thankfully holding together but all eyes were on him as he made his way up the stairs and his chest burst through his shirt. He didn’t stop to see anyone’s reaction as he ran out of the room, down the hall, and out the door where he shed his shirt in a nearby trash can. As he made his way back to his dorm he felt the torn remnants of his briefs fall out from his gym shorts. He didn’t stop to pick them up even though people stopped and stared at what was happening. He had a body now that everybody noticed. He could no longer blend into the crowd. Suddenly he pulled up the picture on his phone. It had 10,000 likes and he had nearly double that number of followers. Scott had just shared the photo with all of his followers thirty minutes ago with comment, “Check out my hot friend” and the activity he was getting from it was insane. Then suddenly he realized there was a way to get this to stop. He deleted the photo from his account. The growth slowed just in time to keep his ass from ripping his gym shorts. No sooner had he done this then a voice broke his concentration. “Tim!? Tim Ryan?! Whoah dude I haven’t seen you six months. You’ve been busy.” Tim looked and say to his dismay two faces he knew, Zack and Rachael. Zack was a hot lacrosse player and Rachael was his best friend. They had been the only people in his dorm who made any effort to befriend him in his freshman year. Zack had been hopelessly out of his league but he appreciated the friendship. Still they were attractive, popular, and busy and when they moved into a house together with some friends Tim hadn’t seen them since. “Uhhh hey guys...” Tim said, blushing. “Ha! It IS you!” Rachael said. “Zack didn’t believe me!” “You’ve really changed man, congrats on all the progress you’ve made. That new diet and workout routine you started last year really paid off.” Zack said. Although as he said it Tim could see him looking at him in a new way. Zack was actually thirsty for him. “Just on a side note though…” Rachael said lowering her voice to be discrete. “You might want to wear underwear with those shorts.” Tim looked down at his bulge, he could see his fat 10’’ soft cock resting on a pair of lemon sized nuts as his junk pressed against the fabric. “Oh god...” he moaned to himself as he turned bright red. “Hey guys! I gotta run! Catch you around?” He said taking off without waiting for a reply. “Shoot me a text!” Zack shouted after him. He got back to his dorm, passing the RA in the hall. She just stared at his hulking mass, clearly not recognizing him. People who hadn’t seen him in months might believe he’d bulked up but the RA had just seen him that morning before all the changes. There was no way she would believe it was Tim. She was about to ask him who he was and who he was there to visit when he put his key card up to the door and walked in. Leaving her confused in the hall. He walked around his room and then sat down on the bed. How was he going to explain this to people. He could explain away 20 extra pounds but this? The gym shorts started to bother him so he pulled them off and gawked at his enormous junk. Even soft his dick was massive. He glanced over at the scale, did he dare weigh himself? A few minutes later he stood trembling before the scale. One foot after the other he stepped on it and was shocked, he weighed over 280 lbs. He’d gained 100 lbs in a few hours. He stood there stunned for a minute before he realized something. The number was flickering between 280 and 281. He stood there breathless as the scale popped up to 282 a minute later. He was still growing! In a flash he opened up instagram and messaged Scott. “I thought you said I’d only grow if people liked or interacted with that picture! I’ve deleted it! Why am I still growing?” “Don’t you know that nothing is ever deleted from the internet?” Scott replied. “People copied the photo off of instagram. Right now people are posting the photo on tumbler, using it to cat fish people, and so forth and so on. Go on, open the file on your desktop, it’s still growing.” Tim opened the file and sure enough the locker room pic was massive. Suddenly his cock started to throb. “Uh oh, looks like one of those fake accounts is taking off.” Scott replied as Tim’s cock began to grow and expand. Soon it was pressing up against his growing pecs. His balls had swollen to the size of grape fruits. Then came the knock at the door. The RA wanted to know what was going on. “SCOTT! The RA is here! How do I fix this? I can’t explain what’s happened! She’s going to think I’m someone else in the dorm and call the cops! I don’t even have any clothes that fit!” Scott’s only reply was “Grab a towel mate.” Tim grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He opened the door just a crack and poked his head out. “Yes?” “You clearly don’t live here, I need to know why you have one of our keys!” As she was talking, Tim’s cock was beginning to grow out from behind the towel but it was still shielded by the door. “I… uh...” He thought for a moment. “Wait… your face… you look just like Tim. Are you guys twins?” “Yeah… sorry for the confusion. I’m just here visiting but he’s in class right now. So he gave me his key.” He said, holding his 18’’ cock behind the door. His nuts looked like softballs dangling below it. “Wow you even sound like him. Well if you want to stay the night with him there are some forms you need to fill out.” Tim looked down at his unconcealable cock. There was no way she could come into the room. “Yeah that sounds great… I’m just changing at the moment, can we do this later today?” Said Tim. “Sure no problem. I’m in room 405. I’ll be there until 3.” She said leaving. He closed the door and dropped the towel. Measuring himself against the door frame he realized he was getting taller too. He looked at his discarded shorts on the bed. There is no way his expanding ass and enormous junk could fit into his workout shorts again. Then he had a thought. “That pic was taken in those gym shorts. What does it look like now?” He opened his laptop and the emoji had moved from the corner to cover his groin. It had grown and become a blushing face. The picture now appeared to be naked. He was now 6’ 5’’ and 350 lbs. “Scott help!” He typed frantically. “My life is falling apart here! I can’t go on as me if I keep changing like this!” “Do you really want my help?” Scott wrote back. “Yes of course!” Tim wrote back. “You know a lot of the ‘muscle morphs’ you see online are just guys like you who downloaded the program. I could give you a job and a place to stay just like I do for them.” “What?” Scott sent a link which lead to a porn site where everyone was impossibly massive. Many of them made Tim look skinny. There were guys with cocks so huge they were practically immobile. “People pay a lot of money to see guys like you fuck around with each other. Why not join us? You never have to wear clothes again and every day more people hand over their money just to look at you. All the attention you ever wanted.” “But… I can’t fuck in front of a camera!” Tim whined. “Trust me, with balls that massive you’ll be so horny that’s all you’ll ever want to do, no matter who’s watching… I just happen to have some guys out there in a van to pick you up. But you better decide fast. If you wait until that RA comes back you might be too big to get out of there. It’s your choice.”
  16. The Orgone Accumulator - Prologue - "And how may I help you?" The voice of the psychoanalyst -- if that was the correct word -- was soft and assuring. The client reclined in the sofa, gazing into the ceiling. The client -- a young man, perhaps in his early twenties -- cleared his throat. He had left his rather modern, but not too modern, jacket on the back of the chair close to the desk, and he had loosened the knot of his narrow, modern tie in some synthetic fabric. Unlike the considerably older analyst, the client didn't wear any vest, as these were falling out of fashion: It was the goddamn 1960's after all. The crown of the analyst's head was bald, but a wreath of grey hair reached from his temples to the back of the bespectacled older man's head. "Do you mind if I smoke?" "If that helps you to talk more freely, you are free to do so." The young client rose, approached his woolen jacket, fumbled with a package of cigarettes and a Zippo, and returned to his reclining posture at the hard sofa, holding a burning cigarette between his fingers. Afternoon sunlight filtered into the office between the blinds. Absentmindedly, the young client checked the parting of his hair with his fingertips, as if he doubted the perfection of his conservative male hairdo. He glanced at his wristwatch. "Don't worry about time. I'll keep track of time." The analyst fell silent again, allowing the client the time needed to open up. The walls surrounding the sofa lacked any paintings or photographs, in order to allow the thoughts of the clients to wander -- unlike the other walls, which were covered by black-and-white photographs from the 40s and 50s and some old-fashioned artwork in art deco style. The client cleared his throat. His cheeks and ears became rosy. "I ... I ... There is something wrong with me, Doctor Witt. I seek your help, because ..." The client fell silent again. "Take your time, son. No hurry. Take deep breaths if that helps you." A fly emitted a buzzing sound somewhere behind the blinds. "Sometimes ... Sometimes, during high school I felt attracted to team members of the football team." The client blushed and fell silent. "What does it mean, Doctor Witt? Do you think, there's a medicine, that may help me?" "You left high school a few years ago, didn't you? Have you ever had any similar thoughts after that?" The client blushed again. "When I go to theatre. Movies about the Wild West. Something stir inside me. It's embarrassing. And when there was a re-run of The Wild One on TV." "Stir inside you?" "It's like ... It's like I want to be the hero ... But I also want to ... Um ... I also want to hug the hero. Or the anti-hero ... "Anti-hero" is a word, isn't it? This is unnatural isn't it, Doctor Witt? Is there a cure? Psychoanalysis is all about unrepressed healthy sexuality adapted to societal norms, isn't it?" "Before we continue this session, you have to know, that I don't follow the orthodox methods, as it were, of Doctor Sigmund Freud. My work, and the work of my associates, is mainly based on the methods of one of his disciples, Doctor Wilhelm Reich. In my experience, Reichian therapy is much more efficient." "I wouldn't know the difference. A friend talked me into consulting you, but he don't know about this ... this secret. I may not have got a college degree, but this office work pays the rent. I think, that I could afford your therapy, at least if it doesn't go on and on for years. Lots of people consult analysts today, don't they? I just want to be normal. To feel normal. I don't even know, what this feeling is supposed to mean: I can't be a fag, can I, Doc? Fags are all supposed to be girly and limp-wristed, aren't they? I don't ... I don't feel girly, and I don't feel anything for unmanly men, so what is all this supposed to mean? Isn't opposites supposed to attract? Is there a diagnosis, Doc?" "I will need some time to understand your condition. Why don't you keep one hour a week free for our therapy sessions, will you?" "I probably will." "And if you have the opportunity, I think, that spending a week or two at a treatment center I know of would have a beneficial effect on you." "Treatment center? Like a vacation?" "Something similar to a vacation, in sunny California, outside San Francisco." "Some sun wouldn't harm, would it?" At the time, none of the men would have presaged what was set into motion. The story continues in: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/18476-the-orgone-accumulator-part-one/
  17. Hey, This story of mine is experimental. Im still learning english so forgive me If they are any wrong grammars and spelling. Please enjoy this short story I made on the whim. Calhoun has come online. Calhoun: yo bro, you wake? Bane has come online. Bane: what 'sup, its in the middle of the night, whats wrong? Calhoun: Im feelin sick tnight Bane: I can tell, youre literally reducing letters in your sentences. Calhoun: whatevs, havnt talked to my colleagues in a while, ever since this stupd business trip. Bane: you need something bro? I can book a flight and stay with you if you're feeling lonely. Calhoun: no thanks, want to be lone. Calhoun: god my skins burning. Bane: feeling hot? Calhoun: fuck ye I am, my workout has finally paid off Calhoun: I finally got my six pack that I was obsessing about, my beautiful biceps finally teared through all of my sleeved shrts, now I finally have a reason to buy tank tops. Im hot as a superman yo. Bane: guess you talk all you want. Calhoun: hm strange Bane: what Calhoun: im so shredded that my sleeves got teared through without even flexing these guns. My shirt feels tighter tonight. Bane: calhoun, what day is it Calhoun: too lazyyyy to check, but its full moon tnight. Bane: oh no Calhoun: oh my god holy fucking shit Bane: calhoun Calhoun: my fucking six pack suddenly Calhoun: oh fvuck it feels so goooood Calhoun: my six pack suddenly turned into an eight pack holy fucking shit this feels so amazing, I just saw it in my own eyes that my abs just grew big! Holy svhit Bane: Cal just calm down Calhoun: shit these abs feel like theyre rocks what the hell is happening to me Calhoun: bane my biceps! They grew big! They just grew suddenly big oh god it feels good! Calhoun: theyre tearing through my sleeves, theyre veiny big thick strong and theyre GORGEOUS Calhoun: somethings wrong with me but im flexing these guns bro Calhoun: im sleeveless beast with two big n strong biceps and an eight pack abs Calhou: bane why is there hair growing all over my body Bane: it'll all be over by sunrise cal, just Bane: bear it Calhoun: bane my body suddenly grew big, bane help me, my muscles Calhoun: bane they just wont stop growing big it suddenly feels painful Calhoun: bane what is happening to me, im becoming shredded like a muscle monster, muscles all over my body are tearin through my clothes Calhoun: bane I grew a furry tail Calhoun: my fac Bane: it'll all be over soon cal Calhoun: bane what are you sayn Calhoun: help me please im feelin sick Calhoun: im fckinh big now cant type vry well bigarms bigbicps Calhoun: bane my best friend Calhoun: help m ... Bane: calhoun I cant help you, please bear it until sunrise, my best friend I reslly want to help you but I really cant Calhoun: hello babe. Bane: oh god you again Calhoun: I feel fucking great, that transformation was smooth Bane: im going to bed Calhoun: no you're not, say my muscles feel denser, did little cally had a workout? Calhoun: say where am I, where the hell is this place. Bane: calhoun im going to bed im tired Calhoun: oh my little Bane, if you were a different person comparing me to that weak dumbass, your head may be long gone.... Calhoun: im BETTER that Calhoun, you know that right boyfriend? Bane: im not your boyfriend. Calhoun: aww dont be like that Calhoun: hey now! My bitch calhoun has actually been working out hard Calhoun: no fat on my skin at all, fuck yea Im a living muscle anatomy, you can see all the jacked af muscle under the skin Calhoun: im gonna do a howl, text me if you can hear my majestic howl! Bane: I wont, youre in an another state Calhoun: aww thats too bad Calhoun: man I really want to seduce the shit out of you. My wolf instincts are kicking in. Bane: calhoun, I beg of you, do NOT seduce any men there! Do not even the slightest bit of the R word! Calhoun: my name is NOT CALHOUN!! I am the monster under his own skin. Im better in every way, I got more muscle, and im cooler. Calhoun: oh I just cant wait to turn you into a beast like me, a majestic shredded as fuck werewolf. Bane: DO NOT EVEN GO THERE Bane: I will never EVER, become a muscle headed monster like you. Bane: you will never lay a single scratch on me Calhoun: aww babe youre cute when youre angry Calhoun: I took a selfie, Ill show you how being a werewolf will bring out the best inside every feeble humans. Calhoun sent a photo. Bane: I dont CARE about muscles, I am not gay like you. Calhoun: oh you should be if you wanna feel these rock hard babies Bane: besides you only come out twice a month Calhoun: not for long Bane: what Calhoun: I had a hunch Bane: a hunch? Calhoun: heheheh Calhoun: I found a way how to make this form permanent. Bane: WHAT? Calhoun: HAHAHA Calhoun: you will never see scrawny Calhoun ever again. Ya know, if you didnt cling to calhoun too much and didnt built up my jealousy. This conclusion may never happen. Bane: dont do this! It isnt fair! Calhoun: it PAINS me that I get to only see my boyfriend only twice, TWICE A WEEK BANE Calhoun: even if bitch Calhoun still controls this body on non full moons, every thing he does, every single word, action, vision, every thought he makes. I can see ALL OF IT! Calhoun: Calhoun plans a trip with you to Japan and have, guess what, some FUN TIMES AND SHIT Calhoun: NO BANE Calhoun: my LIFE ISNT FAIR, MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE IS NOT FAIR. Calhoun: Its not fair that you two get to spend more time together while a monster like me sits in his own subconsious waiting for the next full moon to take over Calhoun: seeing you two having some fun under the sun. Bane: calhoun, please, listen to me, dont do this please, we Bane: we can work this out Calhoun: do you had the power to allow us to transform into a werewolf at will? Calhoun: no you cant, all I want is to spend time with you, lots of time Calhoun: a whole night isnt enough Calhoun: this whole room is an eyesore, maybe because it owns by bitch calhoun Calhoun: im gonna trash this shitty palace and break this phone, im going back home to you after the ritual is complete Bane: ritual?? Calhoun: last full moon, I was absent most of that night, right bane? Bane: yes? Calhoun: I encountered a witch doctor, he was a werewolf too, a werewolf witch doctor which is cool Calhoun: he taught me how to "perfect" the werewolfism Calhoun: not only it will make me ten times stronger and sexier Calhoun: Itll also make it permanent, though the ritual is not easy so I never bothered to do it Calhoun: not until this very predicament where I finally crossed a line Bane: calhoun please Calhoun: calhoun will be gone soon, itll be his turn to be stuck in the subconscious shit hole. Calhoun: say your prayers bane, because tomorrow, ill have my puppy soon. Bane: calhoun please dont do this Calhoun: if you dont like me then maybe your WOLF SIDE will... Bane: please! Calhoun: see you tomorrow my soon-to-be pet/boyfriend werewolf. Heheheheh Calhoun has abruptly disconnected. "SHIT, I have to find him ASAP!!"
  18. Hey all, this is the first story I've actually bothered to see finished in a long time. It's been difficult writing, lately, and I don't expect this to be as well-received as some of my previous stories. But, I'm just happy to have finally finished something! So, let me know what you think. I hope it's at least somewhat enjoyable. OH! Also, this is a college story. No one is under 18. And of course it's entirely fictional, based on no real person or place. _______________________________________________________ He stood in front of us, visibly upset, breathing heavily, his chest and shoulders rising with his deep breaths. "You all think you're so smart, huh?" he said, the venom clear in his voice. "Well, maybe one day you'll see that not everyone is born to be your victim. Not everyone will take your shit lying down." "Dude, calm down, it was a joke," one of my friends said. And it really was just a joke, at his expense, of course, but a joke nevertheless. They... or I should say technically we just made fun of his thin size. Oh and we made several comments about him having a small dick. He really did have a small dick, though. Several of us had seen him naked in the shower. But this is what dudes do! We make fun of each other, give each other shit. We did to him nothing that we haven't done to each other. I was honestly confused why he was taking it so personally. Maybe he was far more insecure than he let on? "It's only a--ughh--joke if what you're saying isn't--rnnngg--true!" He had his hands clenched into fists, arms arched a bit, still breathing heavily. "But you know what? You'll see I'm a grower not a shower. Watch this." And then, to our uncomfortable horror, he put his hand on his crotch and began rubbing it. I say "horror," when really it was just one of those really weird and awkward situations where you have no clue what to do with yourself. Do you respond? Try to diffuse the situation? Look away? Walk away? My own mind was a tangled mess of nothingness. I felt the urge to look away but my eyes remained fixed on him, particularly his crotch where we could all see him rubbing himself with an intensity we're all surely familiar with. I mean, we all jerk off, no doubt. But here he was doing it in front of us. "Dude we've seen you hard, too. You're not that big then either so--" "Sam, dude, shut the fuck up!" I snapped. Apparently he was too dense to realize this wasn't a time to be an asshole. "Let him talk shit, it's okay. Mmmmyeahhhh..." I looked back at him and his crotch had a definite tent there. He was wrapping his hand around it and squeezing and rubbing it, and he looked like he was enjoying it. I felt myself starting to get a little hard, too. "Ready? Mmmm yeah... Watch." I noticed that none of us had turned away, averted our eyes, or anything. As uncomfortable of a situation this was, it seemed that we were all more curious about what he was trying to prove than anything else. But I'll admit I was enjoying watching him jerk off, even though he was still fully clothed. Something about it was enticing. I suddenly wondered, though... what was it that made him get hard? It almost seemed as though he willed it to happen. But then he took his hand away from his crotch and just stood there, eyes closed, head tilted back a little. He had a little grin on his face, and I suppose he truly was enjoying this, whatever it was. But then I looked back at his crotch, and his tent was super prominent. There was no mistaking he was hard. Wait... yeah, he was definitely clearly hard, but... why was I able to tell that? We all were a bunch of douchebags and pointed out how small he was. We've seen his hard dick. It would barely create a bump in his shorts. Now it's a prominent tent. "I see Jake's figured out what's happening," he said, thrusting his chin at me. "Uhhh..." I gulped. "We're... mere seconds away from seeing indecent exposure?" I tried to say it sarcastically, but I suddenly realized I was super nervous. Why was I nervous? I really ought to be repulsed by watching a dude make himself get a boner and partially jerk himself off. He flexed his dick and I couldn't believe what I saw. The tent bulged out farther. I heard some of the other guys gasp and a single "What the fuck..." Now I definitely was nervous. "Ohhhh yeah..." he moaned slightly, his hand moving toward his tent. But then he jerked it away, as though he's trying to restrain his impulse to touch himself. I guess we all know, as dudes, how it is, to want to jerk off when you're hard. "Fuck yes!" he suddenly cried. "It's happening! Are you guys watching?" We were all definitely watching. I think at first we were all sort of annoyed with his seemingly whiny outburst, but now we can all see there's a lot more to this than just whining. I think he may have wanted any excuse to do this, to be honest. "Mmmmm fuck," he moaned again, and we all watched the tent push out farther, and I heard a slight groan. It was his fucking shorts! His tent had grown so much, he was finally straining the front of his shorts! "Here we go... Unnnghhhh!" He clenched his fists, and... "POP!" A large, thick cock popped out of the front of his shorts. At first only the head was visible, but the cloth of the shorts receded and his dick became more and more exposed. He was pretty fucking big, now. He took his hand and pulled at the front of his shorts so more of his dick would be visible. He flexed it again, and yes, it grew even bigger, right before our eyes. "FUCK yes! Still think I'm tiny now?" And even as he said those words, his cock was ever so slightly still growing, and I realized I was staring at it intently. Protruding from the front of his shorts was his hard, throbbing, growing bigger dick. What the hell was happening? No one responded to his question. Did he actually want an answer? "Well?" I guess he did. "N-no, you're not t-tiny," I managed to squeak out. Why did I answer? Why? "What's with the stuttering?" he grinned. "I wouldn't think such a weak, small-dicked 'baby' would make you nervous, Jake." I cringed. He was using my own words. I'd actually called him that one time. It was forever ago, and he remembered. "I'm not... n-nervous..." I couldn't stop stuttering. But why was I nervous? I mean, yeah, this is very off-putting. But he just proved he's definitely a grower. So what if he has a bigger dick than we all thought? He probably took some Viagra and just had to prove us all wrong about his dick. He was still a skinny, weak dude. He simply laughed. "Well, whatever dude, I don't care." He looked down at his own dick for a few moments and flexed it again, and it bounced a bit and grew some more. FUCK! "Ohhhh yeah, it's coming. Are you watching? I can feel it." Some of us looked at each other, and I'm guessing we all were thinking 'what the fuck does he mean?' He wasn't about to cum, was he? He reached his hands down and started to stroke his big throbbing veiny dick. Yes, he needed both hands to cover it. He was lovingly rubbing his dick, back and forward his hands went, slowly. "Unnngghhh" he moaned. His movements were hypnotic, and I couldn't avert my eyes as I watched a dude jerk himself off. I suddenly realized I was harder than steel, myself. "It's happening. Ohhh yeahhhhhh..." he closed his eyes, moaning, and we all finally saw what he meant. What was happening. His entire body was growing. At first I thought I was imagining it, or maybe he was rising up on his toes, but he was definitely getting taller. Slowly but surely. His hands never stopped moving, and he continued growing taller, and he'd grown maybe three or four inches in height before I realized something else. His chest had begun to push out. "Holy sh--" I involuntarily spoke in a hushed voice, stopping myself just before getting the entire word out, not that it mattered since there was no hiding what was going to be said. "Yeah, just watch," he said. His arms had some veins snaking around them now, and I could see his forearms thickening, too. He was growing muscles! FUCK! How was this happening? My dick throbbed in my shorts, and I was immediately brought to realization that I was genuinely enjoying the show. Still growing taller, his arms thickening, his chest pushing out, I also noticed his calves were bulging, too. And his dick was still growing! His shoulders had begun to broaden as well, and I suddenly realized his shirts was getting tighter and tighter, and it was at this point I finally noticed his biceps. They were wrapped in the cloth of his t-shirt, when before the sleeves were loose with plenty of space to spare. "Fuck yeah, keep--unghh--watching..." he said, as he continued to stroke himself, his hands wrapped tightly around his throbbing rod. I watched as those sleeves got tighter and tighter, his arms growing with each stroke of his now huge dick. His traps were rising up, too, and soon that shirt was painted on his body, and he looked like he practically lived in the campus gym. "Oh fuck, fuck... fuck..." his stroking was becoming more rapid, speeding up, and so was his growth. It was like the faster he stroked his dick, the faster he grew. I glanced down and saw his calves were now fucking enormous, bulging out, making it clear he never skipped leg day. Wait, can I even say that? But then more groaning sounds came from his shorts, and I realized his quads and hamstrings had been growing, too. His shorts were tightly wrapped around his muscled legs, and thanks to his new height, we could even see the heads of his quads right above his knees. "Here it--unghh gunnnghhh-- oh it's coming!" His stroking was fevered and wild now, full-on jerking off. His shirt was so tight I couldn't believe it was still holding on. "It's coming!! I'M CUMING!" And he did cum. Oh did he cum. We could literally hear the first burst of cum shoot from his huge dick. It hit my friend David right in the face. "RIIIIIIIIIP!" His shirt finally tore down the middle, his heaving pecs protruding from the tattered cloth, and his biceps ripped the sleeves, a rend going all the way up to his cannon-ball shoulders. "POP! POP!" His legs exploded out of his shorts, each leg ripping up to his belt. More cum was still shooting from his dick, his muscles throbbing as he shot each blast of cum. He was deliberately aiming for us with his cum, hitting not just David before, but two of my other friends as well. Actually, he somehow missed me entirely, but got everyone else. And then his dick was simply dribbling cum, still very hard, though. Cum was dripping down his shaft, onto the hand still holding his dick, and dripping onto the grass. "You like that? HUH?!" He had a wild, somewhat evil grin on his face. "Who's fucking small and weak, now?!" His free hand not holding his dick rose into the air and flexed into a mind-shattering bicep peak, his shirt ripping further, all the way up to his collar until "SNAP!" it too ripped off, leaving the entire one side of his shirt to fall into tattered cloth dangling from what was left on the other side. And then came his other arm, finally releasing his dick, still semi-hard and staying aloft on its own, rising into the air and flexing into yet another huge bicep peak, destroying what was left of his sleeves on that side. His entire shirt fell, revealing what none of us could see to this point. A perfect set of 8-pack abs. Clenching and unclenching with his breaths, washboard enough to actually literally wash clothes on. "WHO'S FUCKING SMALL AND WEAK NOW?!" he asked again, and I guess he was looking for a real answer. It wasn't until now that I finally realized he was towering over us, too. He had a good foot of height over me, at least, and I know I was taller than most of my other friends. He was sure as fuck stronger than any one of us, now, too. Probably stronger than all of us put together. He started to walk towards us, his still semi-hard dick bouncing with his steps, and with each step, more small rips could be heard from his shorts as they struggled to hold on. "What? Y'ALL SUDDENLY GOT NOTHING TO SAY?!" "W-w-we are...?" David actually managed to respond, and I saw he was literally shaking. Was I shaking, too? I couldn't even find my own thoughts, much less feel my own body. "IS THAT A FUCKING QUESTION?!" He reached down and picked David up by the front of his shirt and tossed him across the grass a good ten to fifteen feet. David quickly scrambled to his feet and ran, clearly not caring in what direction since his dorm was in another direction. "GET. THE FUCK. OUT. OF HERE!!" he shouted to the rest of us, and I didn't need to be told twice. I was somehow surprised I'd managed to stick around this long. "OHHhh no, where the fuck do you think you're going?!" he half shouted, grabbing me by the front of my shirt and lifting me off the ground like David, his bulging biceps flexing into gigantic relief from his massive arm. I closed my eyes, bracing myself, prepared to be tossed away. "You're fucking retarded, you know that?" he said, still holding me in the air. I opened an eye, only one eye, and saw his scowling face looking up into mine. Was this another question he wanted answered? How could I fucking know? "Such an asshole," he continued, "Can't see what's in front of you. I've been in love with you for ages now, and you're so concerned with keeping appearances you've never let yourself realize you're fucking gay." He reached out with his other hand and grabbed my crotch which was, yes, still hard, and leaking, too, apparently. "So now what do I do with you?" he asked. I honestly had no clue how to answer that question, even if I could muster the strength to.
  19. Mommy Muscle Growth Episode One - “Power Corrupts” Part 1 ***************************** Authors Note: for all the “geektofreek” fans out there. an attempt at a FMG version. ***************************** My best friend, Brian, called me before the big game. “Getting stoned with everyone... Where you at, bud?” He asked repeatedly. But even I couldn’t tell him what was going on that night. “Yeah, dude. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes.” I lied with a small gulp. Because you see the real truth was, I had already made much bigger plans that night... “Oh god, Mom... it’s 18 inches!” Weeping with utter amazement as I feasted upon, what must have been, one of the worlds biggest female biceps. “Ohh yeah!” Mom, groaned with excitement. With a cute giggle I might add. Pumping up and down this entirely massive bowling ball of womanly strength. Right up against the measuring tape. Right up against my own shrinking two hands. “It feels like I’m still growing too!” She exclaimed. Having curiously consumed over half of Dads muscle growth pills last night. Making us both take pause to watch her peaking arm muscle rumble even bigger with each flex. “18.1... 18.2... 18.3...” Mom, announced out loud. Pumping both her arms over and over and over. Not stopping until they reached 18.5 inces! “Jesus, Mom! Pretty soon you’ll be just as big as, Dad!” I just had to say it. Making a lightbulb go off in her head from the look of things. “Oh god, could you just imagine it...” Mom, said lustfully. Looking down at her already massive mommy physique with a smirk. The idea was crazy, unthinkable. I mean, Dad, really was this big muscle guy. With these colossal 23-inch arms. 30-inch thighs. The biggest door wide backside you could ever conceive on a man. Yet that still didn’t want to seem to stop her. “The growth would have to be tremendous...” As, Mom, giggled a bit. Shamelessly fantasizing. Almost as if I wasn’t even there. “More muscle then ever before achieved by another woman...” She continued. Feeling up her two blimp-sized power breast. The fat diamond cut muscle-nips. Playfully lifting up her shirt up. Making my drop my jaw drop to the floor. As she rubbed her pretty pink painted nails all over these silky smooth monster looking abs. A full fucking 12-pack! With this deep cut v-line. “Not just bigger then all the woman, but MOST of the MEN too!” She still continued. So unbelievably power drunk. “I had no idea you wanted to be SO BIG, Mom!” The whole situation made me gasp for breath. “Well of course...” Mom giggled a bit. “What girl doesn’t want to be Queen!?” She, said with a lustful groan. Eventually reaching down to the bottom of her ready-to-burst gym shorts. Peeling them up chiseled layers of strength like some slow strip tease. Devilishly chuckling as she revealed the most massive mommy muscle thighs on the planet. “A muscle queen?” I weeped under my breath. Making my knees just tremble and shake. *RIIPPP* *RIIIPPPPPPPP* And then that’s when the unthinkable began to happen. “Oh god, Mom... Your clothes...” ****************************** LMK what you guys think of Part 1 by commenting below. Hope you enjoyed.
  20. Ok now I can get these stories organized the right way Ok, so... Shit I dont even know where to fucking start, this shits fucked up. Ok... Lemme do this then. My name is DeMarcus or Marcus or Marc however you want to call me. Lemme start off by saying I am a black male and live a normal life. I have a beautiful wife named Jacqueline or as i like to call her "Jacqui" and we live in the suburbs of LA. We live in the hills in a big mansion living the good life. I mean it would an even better life if we didnt live next to our neighbors we like to call them bitch ass Niggas, The 7 muscle bros... Or the big 7 or any other bullshit y'all can call them. Now lemme get my point clear, I dont necessarily HATE Them, in fact they are good friends but they can be quite annoying. And i mean ANNOYING. Now even though it's about a good 3-5 minute walking distance from our house to their house, still doesn't mean we are safe. I mean we could move to another mansion, BUT, they be coming clutch sometimes and all the other mansions are already bought. As i mentioned there are seven of them. The first one is Elliot, I guess the ringleader of the big 7. This man had long blond hair all the way to his shoulders, blue eyes and has a perfect smile. For some reason he's always smiling and the one time I've seen him with a straight face it wasn't pretty. Now he isnt always happy go lucky like spongebob but you get the idea. He's towards the more nicer person of the group which is good for the people he hangs around with. Next we have Devin. He's about 5'8" with short black curly hair. He's nice to most people he meets but there have been some occasions where he would look at somebody and automatically hate them. He got green eyes always wear a Rolex wherever he goes for some reason. Then we have Reece, the shortest one there and constantly gets Shit about it, but that doesn't stop his confidence. He's the calm one of the group no matter what happens. He has the classic school shooter or the brown "Bowl haircut" with freckles on his face. He also has gray eyes. Now he have Dominic. The overly arrogant one. Now we not talking bout vegeta pride, its much bigger than that. He has a car he's really proud of having and coming from a car guy I can't really cant blame him. Its a 2013 Mercedes C63 AMG. Anyway he's about 6'1" with short black hair and really prideful. But not all the time. Then we Luíz the Cuban boy. He's got once again short black hair (What's with this group and short black hair?) and has a tattoo on his chest on each pec LUIZ HERNANDEZ written in cursive on his pecs. With mixed skin he's more of the lady's man of the group always with some bitch with the spring break titties. Next we have Chase the gay one. Surprisingly you wouldn't have known if he was gay wothout somebody or him telling you. He doesn't have any gay accent or any gay clothing he just looks like a normal person. He has this time short Brown hair and is the tallest one in the group going in as 6'4" tall. He's more worried abiut the the way he looks than anything else except family, but hes constantly fixing his hair or re-ironing his shirt in public. (You're about to find out how) Last but not least we have Case. Cade is even more arrogant than Dominic is. How so? Because he is sex demon. Meaning he is always aroused and horny for some fucking reason... Having nutted 10 times in a span in 5 minutes he's still horny. It get bad when he see a girl he really thought was hot. He nutted nonstop in his pants at target for like 30 min straight. With a black g-eazy havin ass haircut and sex drive higher than a pornstar Cade is the one I dislike the most. Now you're probably wondering shy their called the the 7 muscle growing bros. We have an rare element that we call wishirite. Wishirite can Grant anyone 3 wishes to anyone who possesses it. Elliot came across this gem and got what he wished for. To be friends with other muscle friends and he got what he wanted. The big 7 have the ability to grow and shrink whatever muscle they flex. Bicep flex, bicep grows. But they can only go so far, they can't grow that much taller. Only by like 8 inches. Ok so... Remember how i said chase would iron his shirt in public, well it wasnt with an acrual iron. Its with his cock. Yeah you niggas heard me his fucking cock. They also have the ability to grow their cock to any proportion they want and can even grow their cock taller and thicker than them. They even have the ability to shoot anything out of their cock and other handful of abilities. Heating their cock and using it as an iron, cumming really fast and really hard being able to shoot anything our of their cock like bullets, water, rockets, a fucking kamehameha anything. I had to learn that the hard way when my car was a victim to their machine gun cocks one time. It was a 240 sx too. And since Cade is the sex demon, his cock and get much much bigger and veiny. When he nuts I swear that shit goes to the moon. I've seen his cum break ceilings, lights, his own clothes, etc. Its crazy they each have their favorite muscle too. Elliot is biceps, Luis is his pecs. Reece is his legs, Dominic is his abs, chase is his back, Devin doesn't have a favorite and Cade is to no one surprise his cock. Well they the big 7 have been introduced maybe Elliot will tell the story of how he got the wishirite gem but thats a story for another day
  21. I run back to the captains office. "Capt Aqua" why couldn't she pick a cooler name? i open the door to her flowing water streams all over the place in the room. The streams are so elegant and beautiful. in short shes a water bender. "Congratulations on your last mission, Christine" she says so calmly but sternly. She always intended to bolster us but her tone said otherwise. "Thanks captain. Taking down the criminals wasnt easy" i say back politely as i could. though she says a lot of things with authority, her looks says otherwise. Imagine is Cetrion was human and had light brown skin and long black hair. "I could tell, but because of your recent achievement, you finally get yourself some partners to work with." "i- whaaaaa.....?" now that usually would be a good thing but I'm a lone wolf. I prefer to work alone "You got yourself partners to take people down now. C'mon out yall" i look to my right to see 2 young men both look like they just turned 19 come out. WTF did i just get myself into?
  22. Hey, just a set up part, no real action yet, that's to come! We all had a dream when we were younger right? We all wanted that one thing we wanted to be or to see or to do? When we were younger it was my brothers dream to be a scientist, he is now doing a scholarship in science at university. When I was at school my mates wanted to be professional football players and play for the big teams like Man Utd etc. Mmmmmm seeing there fit toned bodies running round getting sweaty in tight kit is all that filled my mind back then and still does 8 yrs later! Sadly non of them made it professionally but still play in local leagues so the eye candy is still there for me to see. Ok, I’m digressing slightly here, no, seeing them naked and sweaty was not my dream, although it would be nice! Look I’m off again, right pull yourself together Mike! I’ve not mentioned my dream yet, mine is quite different from my mates and brother, both of which are generic everyday childhood dreams, mine? Well, let’s just say I’m yet to live that dream because it requires me to go somewhere I would never have thought I would ever tread....... the Gym! The dream? Well let me flesh out the details....... I’m one of those gays who hate the gym but love the sight of huge muscle all pumped to buggery and i like many other things that branch off from that tree, strength, masculinity etc. But one of the more obscure branches I wandered across came from reading a fiction story about a 18yr old guy who was beaten to within an inch of his life just for laughs, ending any chance of him being a sports star. He got quite a substantial amount of money from the court hearings, which was used to buy the most cutting edge steroids on the market. Hired top coaches, in the space of 4 month he went from a lowly 100lb to a staggering 440lb , 28in arms, 70in chest, 50in thighs. This guy could squat 1000lb for fun, such was his strength and size. He went on a revenge mission and slaughtered the 6 guys who nearly killed him, caving one guys face in itself with just 2 punches and using his pecs to crush another guys skull, FUCK I’m as hard now as I was then! And that’s when my dream was born, not so much the revenge stuff but being freaky huge and immensely strong with it. But, as mentioned this requires me to join a gym, which I have signed up for and have a taster session with one of the personal trainers later today. Too say I’m bricking it is a understatement, I am nervous as hell, my gym knowledge is next to 0 so this guy is gonna have his work cut out! Hmmm, just thought, I’ve not really introduced myself properly, all you have on me so far is I’m a raging muscle queen who loves big muscle and enjoys seeing his fit mates running round getting sweaty! Paint a portrait from that if you can hahahahahaha! Incase you can't, then hello I’m Mike, I’m 22 and live in northern England by myself in a flat! I have a 9-5 office job, no boyfriend. Really selling it arent I? I’m not fit but I’m not unfit, I’m in that middle ground where I jog every now n then and the odd kick about with my mates on a Wednesday night, so not a couch potato more a runner bean! It’s not long till I leave for the gym, I’m getting myself mentally prepared as best I can! No staring at the totty, no bulge watch or bubble butt watch, concentrate on what the (undoubtedly fit) PT has to tell you! Beep beep, beep beep. Oh that’s my message tone let’s have a look: “ hi Mike, its Luke, I’m the guy who’s going to be showing you around the gym later, can you bring with you a list of the foods you eat and any activities that you do please, just so I have a rough idea of your daily routine etc, I’ll meet you in the cafe area, look forward to meeting you.” Ahh that’s nice of him to get in touch, I’ll send a reply.......... Done. Right, the list wont be too hard, I’m not a crap eater, but dont eat to the levels and healthiness that will no doubt be required if I want to fulfill my dream. Activities is easy just jogging and football, right so list is done, I suppose I better eat something before I leave eh, what do I have in, hmmm uncle Ben’s microwave rice, cooked chicken and a egg. Not too shabby I suppose. Mmmm that was delicious if I say so myself, right, tshirt on, shorts on, list in hand, let’s go to my first ever gym session, wish me luck! I approach the gym entrance like a student in trouble approaching the headmasters office, fear and trepidation! What fate wait before me through those doors! I’m slightly early, I walk into the reception area, it’s very quiet, it feels like the deep breath before the plunge. I tell the receptionist about my 2pm trail, she tells me to take a seat and Luke wont be long. And long i did not have to wait, striding towards the table was a guy who has a penchant for tight fitting clothing, a fine fine specimen of a man he was, the adorable face, the short fade cut brown hair, the body, my God the body! Not quite fiction guy size but, he was built! My eyes were still taking in this bull of a man when he finally got to the table, he extended his left meaty arm and offered a handshake, my hand went up as quick as my erection, fast! He grapsed my hand, yikes , quite a hand shake! ( crush my bones mmmmmm) “ hi you must be Mike? “ He let go, my poor hand! “ yeah, hi Luke, how are you.?” (“ I’m pumped to huge magnificence for your viewing pleasure! ) Behave Mike! That smile!!! “ I’m very well thanks Mike, well shall we get going, we'll talk about your goals and aspirations first and then I’ll show you the equipment and machines.” Considering what I’ve said earlier, I think I’m gonna enjoy this........
  23. Chapter 1 is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/18685-descent-into-growth-part-1/ Descent into growth Part 2 You reclined on the training bench, sweating profusely and pushing the dumbbells above you in a dumbbell press exercise. You weren't devoted to the gym the way Nate was, or even the way Mr. Vanderwesthuisen obviously was, but since your move to Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's island you had returned to your hobby from university days, exercising at least two times a week – three times some weeks. Anger boiled inside you: A wave of heat causing your body to shudder, and you let it out through the exercise, pressing the dumbbells upwards, controlling their weight on their way down. You were the one responsible for research. You were the one responsible for the health and safety of Nate. You were the one responsible for the health and safety of everyone at the compound if the lab equipment ever malfunctioned. But Mr. Vanderwesthuisen had been tampering with the Lab in subtle ways, and less subtle, without consulting you. The interior lighting inside the Test Chamber was a minor matter, and rather childish, but when Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's engineers visited the Lab, and installed the unknown equipment, you had had an argument with your employer. "You are not the only expert I have employed, Doc. You don't need to know his name, but an expert in subliminals has designed this sound equipment and the program attached. It can't hurt, to program the test subject's mind just as his body." "I would prefer to keep each of these experiments separate. This opens up for unexpected consequences." "And I prefer to keep these experiments together. Remember who you are talking to. I appreciate your knowledge and your work, but it is my money and my project. I can't wait to see what will happen to young Nate." And then there was the recruitment of little Rob. You had mentioned the need for a lab assistant, but you had expected to interview the candidates and pick the most suitable one. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen had other ideas: One day little Rob was suddenly there, picked by Mr. Vanderwesthuisen, and there wasn't anything you could do to change that fact. You could feel your anger abate, or rather transmute into control of the weights ... transmute into blood rushing to your chest muscles, making them hard – The Pecs as Nate used to say. In control of the weights. The weights causing your chest to work. The exercise caused anger to be replaced by serenity and the feeling of being bodily present. Present. At peace. * * * It would have been unwise to take your frustration out on little Rob. Whatever he lacked in experience, your lab assistant compensated in kindness and helpfulness. Rob was just out of university after a Bachelor in biochemistry (You would have preferred someone with a Masters or a Doctorate), so he was very young. There was a hint of pudginess under Rob's t-shirt, but he lacked the stoutness that sometimes came with pudginess: His arms were scrawny, and his shoulders were narrow. Kindness shone in his blue eyes, and his platinum blond hair was styled in some modern manner. "We will use blood samples from normal men for comparison, and the test subject's blood samples will be tested regularly before, during and after each stage of the project." "Normal men?" "In order to keep it simple, we could take blood samples of each other once a week, and put them in this refrigerator. It could also be a good safety precaution, in case the equipment would begin to leak power or radiation, which it shouldn't." "That would be dangerous, wouldn't it?" "Not in small amounts, but it would be dangerous to expose unprepared organisms to higher amounts. Without the serum, an organism would react unpredictably to the treatment." "Would the serum be enough to cause a change?" "The serum alone would cause someone dedicated to physical exercise to increase the outcome of his exercise over the time of 6-12 months, but the idea is, to combine the serum, the DNA-altering virus, the morphogenetic fields, the anabolic radiation and the hypertrophic power. And the gas, of course." "The gas?" "In the past, test subjects had to float in a certain solution, but there were complications because of that, and – I think – two cases of drowning. The illegal equipment, that circulates under the radar, doesn't fill the chamber with anything at all, and that might be one of the reasons why the illegal equipment backfires so often. By filling the chamber with a mix of oxygen and a hormone-stimulating gas, we will give the hypertrophic power a medium through which to transmit to the test subject, but we have removed the risk of drowning. Anabolic radiation doesn't need any medium, of course." Nate entered the Lab. "Oh, Nate. The day before the big experiment! How do you feel?" "Good. I have recovered from that virus you pumped into me a few days ago. I'm eating again. Couldn't stomach anything while I lay sick." "Yes, I'm sorry for that, but the virus is the carrier of the enhanced DNA. From now on, your DNA will be engineered to produce more muscles and higher levels of hormones." "I feel hornier than usual. Is that normal?" "You probably produce higher levels of testosterone now. We'll see. Time for your blood sample, again." Little Rob took several test tubes of blood from Nate. "One of these samples will be used in order to produce a highly customised version of the serum, uniquely tailored to your individual DNA. We do it in the machine over there." You waved in the direction of a workbench with equipment. "Nervous?" Nates brown eyes didn't look nervous. Rather, they sparked of enthusiasm. "I wouldn't call it nervous. I trust your work, Doc. Your work and Rob, here. And Mr. Vanderwesthuisen. But I look forward to it. When Mr. Vanderwesthuisen first told me about the possibilities ... I couldn't believe it was true. I'm good at MMA in my own weight-class, but I always felt too small. If I could become bigger, perhaps taller, I could take up Strongman competitions instead. I ... I look forward to the big experiment." You noticed how little Rob's glance moved to Nate's tracksuit bottoms. The talk about the experiment obviously caused Nate to tent inside the tracksuit. * * * Part 3 is found: here.
  24. Descent into growth Part 1 You lifted the receiver from the old-fashioned stationary telephone. Not all equipment on the island had been updated. Your legs were shaky after the flu, and you felt exhausted. You dialled 112. Silence. "Hello? Anyone there? Can anyone hear me?" You felt a BIG warm presence behind you, and a BIG powerful hand pulled the receiver out of your hand, restoring it to its place, while a deep voice – a both pleasantly and threateningly deep voice – growled behind you: "What did I say about contacting authorities? Remember, I pay your rent, but don't worry: Welcome back from the sickbed. You are needed in the Lab." You turned around. It was him, and he was bigger now. * * * It had been a bad time for you and your colleagues specialising in the field of research about anabolic radiation, hypertrophic power, alteration of DNA and related areas. Although the unfinished versions of the treatments had been put to good use by international armed forces in repulsing the space invasion a few years ago, in peacetime the governments of the world had found the process "unreliable, potentially dangerous and in breach of ethical standards", as one of the official reports put it. A series of hushed-down, unfortunate (and, in some cases, horrifying) accidents had dotted any attempts to re-activate research in the field. Not even the potential of improving the conditions of patients suffering from muscular dystrophy could convince the international consensus, that research ought to be re-activated in a careful and benevolent way. You had got your degree, you had got an area of expertise, but you had not got any lasting employment within your field. When Mr. Vanderwesthuisen contacted you, it had seemed like a godsend. "I've heard, that you are knowledgeable in a rare interdisciplinary field, combining physics and medicine, is that correct?" The man was affluent, and seemed to expect his coworkers to obey him. That will always have a certain effect on a man's behaviour and charisma. It would have been difficult to say no to Mr. Vanderwesthuisen, but since he offered you money and a legal way to undertake what you liked to do – research – you had no reasons to contravene him. One week later, you found yourself in luxurious living quarters at a private island outside the territorial waters of any sovereign country. Under your supervision, a very expensive lab-equipment was assembled, but all the tedious business with the – not entirely legal – acquisition of the components and biochemicals involved was taken care of by your new employer. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen visited you once a month, in order to follow your experiments. * * * After sixteen months, you were ready to switch from lab animals to human test-subjects, but just barely. The dining room was as luxurious as the rest of the complex. The air conditioner worked hard to keep the indoors climate refreshing, and, by the look of Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's and the newcomer's tan, it seemed like they had spent their first hours on the island outdoors on the beach. You were an ill-matched trio: Mr. Vanderwesthuisen was wearing an expensive suit and tie. You were in a habit of dressing formally when needed, but dressing down at your leisure time. The newcomer seemed to be considerably younger than Mr. Vanderwesthuisen, probably between the age of 20 and 30, and he was wearing trainers, Adidas tracksuit bottoms and a tight elastic t-shirt with the logo of Under Armour. He had kept his cap on his head, the peak turned backwards, but this ostentatious disregard of table manners didn't seem to disturb your employer at all. "Doc, meet Nate. Nate, this is Doc. I expect both of you to help each other's talents to blossom." You shook Nate's hand, and, although he was shorter than you, his firm handshake caused you some pain. Nate was short, but very wiry. His Under Armour-shirt revealed the outline of his chest and abdomen. With a commanding gesture, Mr. Vanderwesthuisen invited you to the table. The three of you took your seats. "As you will probably hear from himself soon, Nate is practicing Mixed Martial Arts, but decided to join our little project. Doc is an expert on the lamentably suppressed research on hypertrophic power. I pay him to not suppress it anymore." Nate's face shone up in youthful enthusiasm and curiosity: "Is it true what they say, that science actually know how to grow men's muscles into Hulk-size?" "I wouldn't compare reality to fiction ...", you began, but Nate continued his trail of thought: "Have you heard the rumours, that some criminals, bodybuilders and strongmen have got their hands on secret equipment, that turned them MASSIVE? Is it true?" You turned your head to face Mr. Vanderwesthuisen: "What am I allowed to say?" Mr. Vanderwesthuisen smiled inscrutably, swallowed a forkful of fish, and answered: "You asked for a human test subject. Nate hasn't formally signed any contract, yet, but he has been very enthusiastic about the possibilities. Tell him everything you deem suitable." That was fast. You had briefly mentioned human test-subjects to you employer, but, for the sake of safety, you would take your time, until the time was ripe. "Well, ehr, Nate, do you mind if I call you Nate? Illegal beta-test equipment from an earlier stage of research is circulating. That sort of equipment is unreliable, and has caused unpredictable results like death, deformity or insanity among some of those who dared to try it out. Some did grow: You might have heard exaggerated accounts about those who were lucky. There is a reason, why the research was put to a halt. The equipment I use has been adjusted, and it is built from tested high-quality components. Our Lab only use lab-grade high-quality chemicals, so most of the dangers have been minimized. We will probably be ready to begin experiments on you within a month." Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's face changed expression: "I was under the assumption, that we could begin earlier than that?" "Well, there are some safety precautions ..." He cut you in the middle of your sentence: "Nonsense. I have read your reports. The equipment is ready. You are ready. Nate is surely ready, aren't you, Nate?" Nate's cheeks were blushing for some reason: "To hulk out? Yeah, I'm ready to hulk out, Mr. Vanderwesthuisen, just as you told me. Promise me, that you will cause me to hulk out, Doc!" * * * Part 2 is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/18694-descent-into-growth-part-2/
  25. “Cut it out Enzo,” I said trying to push by him. “Come on, Antonio. You’re the only gay guy I know. Just answer my question,” he said as his body made it quite clear I would be unable to pass. “This is not funny, Enzo.” “Listen, do you think gay guys would be attracted to my big guns? I mean, I know the ladies are – trust me, I know the ladies are. These big things have gotten me laid more times that I can count. But I’m trying to put myself out there as a caring, open-minded metrosexual and someone told me that meant I had to be nice to the faggots . . . oh damn, that’s not a nice word . . . I meant to say the gay guys. I’m sorry, Antonio.” I was floored. Not because of what he was saying, but because he actually apologized and changed the term every man in the extended DiMarco family to describe people like me ever since before I was even born. It made me stop and actually look my cousin right in his pleading eyes. He smiled, showing me that his apology had been sincere. The big ape was actually trying. That floored me. “Geez, thanks Enzo. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a DiMarco boy correct himself. For the record, though, faggot doesn’t bother me. I view it like a term of endearment.” “A term of what?” Enzo asked and, immediately, we were back to the Neanderthal stage. “I was told that this shirt would be hot if I wore it to gay clubs…” “Wait. What? Did you just say that you are going to go to a gay club? Why?” “For the chicks, Antonio, for the chicks. Hot women love gay bars. I figure I’d finally go with some co-workers who’ve been asking me to join them for a while.” “Why?” “You know . . . to meet new people. Open up my horizontals.” “Horizons.” “What?” “To open up your horizons. Horizons . . . never mind, Enzo. What’s the real reason you want to go?” “Fuck, are all gay guys mind readers? You always know when I’m not telling the whole story. It’s like when we were in junior high together and I told you I was joining the drama club to learn to talk better and you asked me what girl I liked. I bet you even knew it was Iris Loftus, but you were too shocked I liked an Irish girl to say her name.” “Who’s the girl this time, Enzo?” “See, that’s what I’m talking about. I hadn’t even mentioned a girl and you already knew it. No wonder you graduated Harvard with those things called honors.” “Who’s the girl, Enzo?” “Why does there always have to be a girl, Antonio?” “Because it’s you, Enzo.” “Okay, okay. It’s Carla Luigi.” “The singer from down at the club?” “Yeah.” “Enzo, your taste is improving. It’s like you’ve gone from zero to ninety in mere seconds. I’m impressed. Careful now, she’s an out and proud liberal.” “I know, Antonio! That’s why I’ve got to change. I can’t be calling guys fag . . . um, names, anymore. I need to know about dressing right, where to get my hair cut, and about wine that doesn’t come in a box. You’re my only connection to class, Tony. Help me, please. We’re going to some place called ‘Beefeaters’ tonight and I gotta seem cool – and I ain’t ever worried about being cool before. So, help a poor guy out, cousin. Will the gays like my big arms? I got this shirt specially for tonight.” I looked at my cousin and felt the same stirring at my crotch whenever I gazed at Enzo. He was one good looking guy. Granted, his hair could be improved, his wardrobe lacked a little class, and the guy really needed to go back and finish high school – but none of that mattered when you gazed upon his dark brooding eyes, his thigh-quivering stubble, and what he always used to call his ‘gigantic bazookas.’ The man had the kind of arms that made you suddenly feel puny and weak whenever he was around. They didn’t just scream power – they yelled it from the highest mountain nearby. He had the kind of body that most men worked all of their life for and never achieved. The crazy thing was Enzo wasn’t a gym rat or powerlifting fiend – he just responded well to the workout he got at his construction job in addition to frequent use of the set of free weights he’d had since he had been in eighth grade. It was like some muscle fairy godfather had blessed him with a body that grew just from lifting the milk carton. I came home each Christmas specifically to get a lift-you-off-the-floor hug from those monstrous arms – both when I arrived and when I was leaving. Enzo used to protect me in school. No one dared bully Antonio DiMarco or they’d have to answer to the ‘gigantic bazookas.’ A visit from those arms usually meant you’d be dangling by some pipe the back of your pants was attached to after being lifted off the ground or, worse, literally being stuffed into a locker. The first part of my senior year was hell because Enzo, only a junior, decided to drop out of school. My protector was no longer there. After he heard I was having some problems, Enzo dropped by the school to say hi and remind the bullies I was off limits. The silent threat worked. “Enzo, there’s not a breathing homosexual on this planet that wouldn’t find those arms stellar.” “Cool. Stellar is good, right?” “Very good. Now listen, I have a few other pointers that I think will help you a lot tonight, if you care to hear.” The man seemed like I had just handed him the keys to paradise. He broke into a huge smile, grabbed two beers from the fridge, and ushered me into the dining room so we could sit and talk without being interrupted. I could tell he was all ears. I was impressed he didn’t take out some paper and a pen – he always made lists of things he wanted to do, but then promptly lost the list. He was actually going to listen and remember what I said. This was, indeed, a new Enzo. He looked at me like an eager puppy ready to please. “First of all, gay clubs are a lot different than those places you call a bar. And most of the gay men you are hoping to impress – along with your girl, Carla – are not like the guys, and even, forgive me, the girls you know. With your regular group of friends, it’s fine for you to act like a bull in a china shop.” “A bull where?” “Um, it’s fine for you to come on strong – really strong. I’ve been out with you and you’ve flexed your arms more in one night than all the guys in the Mr. Olympia contest put together. It’s like you’re some power-hungry mafia guy that busts into a place wielding heavy artillery.” “Very cool analogy, Antonio.” “When did you start using words like analogy.” “Since Carla started talking to me.” “Remind me to thank Carla. Anyway, in a gay bar like ‘Beefeaters’ you want to be really subtle . . . um…” “I know what subtle means, dude.” “Of course,” I said and I could feel my face turn red – causing the big man to cup my cheek with his big hand to show me all was okay. “So, you want to be subtle. Let those monstrous arms…” “You’ve always been into my guns, haven’t you, Antonio?” We stared at each other for a few seconds in total silence. This was all new territory for me. There wasn’t a DiMarco family member that had ever discussed anything personal with me, except my mom and that was always limited to ‘have you met a nice doctor’ or ‘Mrs. So and So needs some decorating advice.’ This was someone actually calling me out on what I was into. I knew, however, that the new Enzo was ready for honest answers. “Yes. I think they are stunning. And so will everyone at the bar tonight if you just let them do their thing naturally. There’s no need to announce them loudly like a foghorn on a cloudy night. Their size will let them speak for themselves, when you are taking a sip of beer, waving to a friend, or scratching the back of your head – which, by the way, I would suggest doing quite regularly.” “That’s kind of funny, since that’s what I do when I don’t understand something and I have a feeling I’ll be doing that a lot tonight.” This kind of self-awareness in a DiMarco man was unheard of. I suddenly felt a surge of love for this big dude that had never existed before. Evolution had never really been a thing I thought about, but I had a feeling Enzo’s growth as a human was going to make me read some books about it. He could tell I was impressed by something he said and this made him sit up taller – which made him look even more huge. “You want people stealing glances at your arms all night long. Trust me, if you don’t make a big deal about them from the get go, they’re going to be what everyone in the group is talking about when you go to the bathroom. Now, forgive me – I know you’re a changed man, but I feel I need to also say – no loud burping, no sliding your fingers down the front of your pants while resting, no spread eagle adjusting of your family jewels, and do not – this is huge – be the first to take your shirt off on the dance floor. Let other people convince you to take it off. I’m pretty sure some of your co-workers will be tugging on that tight thing and pulling out your shirttail pretty early on. Let the anticipation build. Let there be lots of other guys that have their shirts off before you unveil that body of yours. I have a feeling lots of shirts will immediately be put back on when yours comes off and that’s what you want.” “Why didn’t you tell me all these things I’ve done for years weren’t cool.” “Enzo! They were cool for your group of friends. Do not be ashamed of who you are. Remember, you hugged me and said those exact words to me when I came out to you. It was one of the most moving moments of my life. You’re simply doing something most DiMarco’s don’t do – you’re going out to experience a different culture. And when you’re in a different culture you need to strive and learn their customs, their preferred way of living. Now, have you thought about what you’re going to do if some guy hits on you?” “I thought I’d tell him I was flattered, but that he wasn’t my type.” “Who told you to say that?” “No one, I came up with it myself.” “Our little boy is growing up,” I said, grabbing both of his cheeks and squeezing. “The old Enzo would have lifted the guy and shook him like a rag doll or back-handed him across the room. I’m impressed with your new plan of attack. And, trust me, it will impress Carla, as well. I think you’re going to have a successful night.” “I know I am,” Enzo replied. “With you as my wing-man how can I fail.” “What? Oh no, buddy boy, I’m not Beefeaters’ material. That place likes their boys chiseled and gorgeous. I’d feel so out of place.” “Why do you say that, Antonio, you’re very handsome.” His sincere words moved me. I looked for any sign of the normal DiMarco sarcasm in his statement, but it didn’t exist. He again cupped my face and brought his close to mine. “Everyone says you’re the best looking DiMarco.” “Thank you, but I’m still not going.” “Yes, you are, cousin. You owe me, Antonio DiMarco.” “Owe you? For what?” “Junior high and high school protection!” And with that, he leaned in closer and kissed me hard on the lips. The kiss lasted a lot longer than was acceptable between two Italian guys. I knew he was giving me a gift. I knew he realized I had dreamed of kissing him for years. His hand, at the same time, reached over and grabbed my crotch. His hand quickly found my hard meat and he squeezed. He pulled his head away and shook it in dismay. “The most handsome Dimarco and with the biggest sausage in the family. Life is just not fair.” Enzo got up from the table and walked away – sure of the fact that I would be heading to ‘Beefeaters’ later on. I knew the crotch grab meant nothing. Ever since childhood the DiMarco boys had compared their endowments like you might show off a new car. I didn’t partake of the custom until around age twenty when five of us were down by the river drinking one night and my cousins drunkenly held me down and pulled down my pants so I’d finally be part of the crazy club. The shocked faces and total silence when my piece had been unveiled, plus the way they quickly let me go and returned to their beers, made me realize my assumption that all DiMarco men were huge below the belt was not true. From that moment on I had been treated with a lot more respect than ever before at family gatherings. “Yeah, well you’ve got the biggest arms,” I yelled at him as he passed through to the other rooms. “That’s for damn sure. We’re leaving at ten!” he shouted back. (To be continued…)
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