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  1. ‘What the hell is going on?’ That is the reaction Brice has after he passes out and then wakes up several minutes later after Cain Darkori places him into a holding cell. The larger red skinned brother leaves the room and locks the door as Brice tries to stand up. He falls back down after realizing that he doesn’t have any type of balance. He barely remembers anything that happened just a short while ago except that some crazy substance has taken up residence in his body somewhere. He wonders if it will force him to somehow change against his will or if it is awakened by some sort of weird occurrence. His energy level seems to have leveled off and he feels fairly decent, but the fact that he is locked up tells him that he may be in some secret program. ‘HEY, WHY AM I IN HERE? HELLO? I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!’ Brice tries to shake the bars on the cell and they don’t budge. After a few more seconds, he goes to sit on a bench inside the cell and puts his hands on his head. As he sits there, he hears a click on the main door as it opens. He looks up and sees a familiar face and even looks at them bewildered. ‘WHAT THE HELL? Owen what are you doing here?’ It is the friend that originally recommended the Darkori’s in the first place. The young trim man sits in a chair just outside the cell and puts his glasses on that he had in his pocket. He parts his legs enough to put his arms on them and smiles back at Brice. ‘Hi buddy, I see you visited Dr. Orleans and Dr. Darkori. Did they help you get better at all?’ ‘What the…? Why aren’t you answering my questions? Why are you even here Owen?’ ‘Well Brice, as it turns out it wasn’t a coincidence that I sent you to either one of them because they helped me too.’ ‘Uhh well thanks I think. Why are they red and why do I find them so attractive? Is this a side effect of their serum?’ ‘Hehe, yeah you could say that Brice. I also was attracted to their red skin and how the muscles glistened in the lights. I’m actually here right now because they called me in to calm you down. You don’t need to be so loud and obnoxious you know.’ ‘I’m fucking scared Owen, this crazy shit is flowing inside my body. I can feel it moving through me, it does make me feel normal though.’ ‘I’m glad Brice, but I need to make you understand that the serum flowing through you is meant for more than just hormone therapy, it is a key that unlocks a part of you that you never thought existed. Trust me I had no idea either when they did this to me.’ Two beads of sweat begin to slide down Owen’s head as Brice can see his skin starting to get redder. ‘Are you alright Owen, you seem like you are experiencing some kind of a hot flash?’ Owen wipes his brow as more beads of sweat begin to move down his face. He pulls a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and rubs it all over his face as he pulls his glasses off to wipe them down too. He puts them back on and sighs. ‘I ummm may not be able to hold it back much longer so I’m just warning you before it happens.’ ‘What are you….oh gawd I have already seen this before from Dr. Damien Darkori. Are you going to change colors?’ *slight laugh* ‘Hah no I’m not going to become a red muscle monster like the doctors. They were born that way, I am just a product of their creation.’ Brice can sense a bit of danger and starts to move towards the back of the cell but realizes that he won’t be safe no matter what happens. He starts to grab whatever he can get his hands on in the cell: the bed, the bench, the clothes, and puts them all around him as he cowers over in a corner and watches Owen start to squirm in his chair as it starts to creak slightly. His breathing grows heavier by the minute. He grabs his chest and turns his head down into it. ‘OH GAWD BRICE I FEEL IT BUILDING UP INSIDE ME. IT HURTS SO MUCH BUT IT ALSO EXCITES ME MORE THAN EVER.’ *voice deepens* ‘OHH MAN, IT IS MOVING TO THE SURFACE JUST LIKE I AM ABOUT TO ERUPT LIKE A VOLCANO.’ Brice’s eyes grow large as he sees his friend’s back expanding rapidly as he gasps for air. His shirt begins to shred under the sheer size of his muscles. Seams split in his pants as the chair crumbles beneath him as he falls to the ground. Muscles grow everywhere as Brice can see Owen’s face beginning to change shape. The man looks up as his glasses fall to the ground and shatter. His green eyes have now turned yellow as his massive chest makes quick work of his shirt as the material falls to the ground in tatters. The growing beast gets up to stand as his shoes explode beneath him as his feet nearly double in size and appear to be getting longer. His toes get a new shape to them which alarms Brice to the point that he starts to mumble to himself. His quads grow fatter and more developed as his cock explodes through his underwear dropping them to the ground as his cock grows larger and longer. Even stranger now, the beast’s skin color is changing as it quickly moves down from his head which no longer has any hair on it to his feet. His formerly normal skin tone is now grey. His body hair is minimal now besides the goatee on his face. The creature turns to his side and laughs as his huge ass presses up against the bars exposing his throbbing hole. Brice involuntarily moans as he sees this and feels an erection building in his pants. ‘OH GAWD NO, YOU ARE TRYING TO MAKE ME GIVE IN AREN’T YOU?’ The beast moans in delight as a tail begins to grow from just above his bubble butt. It flies out of his enormous back and sits close to the ground in the cell as it flails about. Brice jumps up and yells in fright as he realizes that his friend is actually a demon. It turns back around and starts to shake the front of the cell like it is taunting him. It laughs again and starts to bounce its giant cock at him. Once again, Brice can feel his cock stirring as he feels his temperature heating up. ‘STOP DOING THAT! I WON’T GIVE IN…..PLEASE STOP!’ The huge beast flexes its engorged 24” pythons and rips the doors off the front of the cell. Brice jumps back and tries to climb up the wall away from Owen. The man creature grabs him and pulls him down on the ground as it shoves its long tongue down his throat so he can’t say anything. Brice starts to convulse as his body involuntarily gives in to the demon’s advances as he no longer has any type of control. It locks its lips on his and begins to push the entity from within Brice to the surface. The 350 pound creature continues to summon the beast inside Brice as it wraps its giant arms around him and rubs his back forcefully. Brice feels his body go stiff as the change begins. He can feel the hair on top of his head starting to fall out as the man demon Owen makes him flex his biceps. He peers over at them as his eyes enlarge noticing them growing rapidly rising ever higher. The fact he is nearly nude makes the growth cycle commence even quicker as he feels his back popping and stretching further outward. He still cannot make a sound as the pain intensifies. He winces as tears roll down his face. Owen pulls his tongue out of Brice’s throat to lick the tears off his face as he watches his friend change even further. The man demon caresses him as his abs grow and thicken as well as his pecs which blow up into huge slabs of granite. Just like with Owen, Brice’s quads explode in size pushing his legs further apart to make room for his growing cock which has already begun to thicken and lengthen.With the slit growing bigger, Owen leans down to shove his tongue inside and starts to lap up the juices that are beginning to flow through his cock. Brice’s face and head are now bare. He can feel the muscles tightening and growing at the same time as he realizes that he may lose his awareness soon. He feels his eyes starting to change from their blue color to the same yellow color of Owen’s. His feet are also changing as his toes thicken and lengthen at the same time. His pain threshold is now gone as it now turns to pleasure. He moans deeply as his voice changes dramatically. He reaches down with his new larger hands and pushes Owen’s face on top of his cock. The cum begins to build up quickly as Owen moans deeply too tasting the thick pre beginning to change over to the white stuff. Before long, Brice moans in his new gruff tone as Owen gulps down tons and tons of thick cum. His tail flaps wildly as his cock begins to spurt its own frothy load on to Brice’s new thick calves and feet. Brice sprouts a tail shortly after he finishes cumming down Owen’s throat. He pulls him off his powerful cock and shoves his tongue down Owen’s throat as the two huge muscular demons play tonsil hockey with each other. They are completely unaware that someone else has entered into the cell. After a minute of wrapping their tongues together they realize they are being watched. ‘Hello there men or shall I say pups. I see that you two have gotten acquainted with each other finally.’ Brice and Owen stare at each other and smile. Brice realizes that his mind is still intact but his voicebox isn’t the same. He tries to say something, but nothing comes out. ‘No no Brice, it is okay. You don’t have to speak to me I can hear what you say through your eyes and mind. Perhaps even Owen can help you out with your issue.’ Brice is beginning to feel a lot of contentment in his new body as he looks down and marvels at his new gray muscles and rubs them a few more times before leaning over to rub Owen’s chest and face. ‘I can see that you care about him Brice. I am glad that you have someone to help you transition. Just know that this form only appears when you are excited or feel the need to act.’ After taking a few more steps, Brice stares at the red-skinned behemoth and remembers that it is Cain Darkori. Cain shows his teeth to both man demons and warns them to not approach him as it isn’t safe at this point. He motions for Owen to move himself over to the other cell located beside Brice’s so that he can revert back to his old body. He wants Brice to watch carefully so that he is able to do it in a safe fashion away from anyone he cares about. Owen sits down on the ground as his tail begins to fall off and his face returns back to its normal shape. His body hair begins to sprout again as his muscles slowly shrink back down to their original places and sizes. Now drenched in sweat and completely nude, Cain walks over to him and pulls another pair of glasses out of his lab coat he is wearing and hands them to Owen. He extends a giant red paw out to Owen and embraces him. He then tells Brice to let his brain clear itself and to let himself revert back. Brice nods as he sits on the ground and attempts to do the same thing that he saw Owen do. His tail falls off and his body hair begins to grow back as he calms down. Before anything else happens though, he passes out as his muscles were beginning to shrink down again. Cain rushes over to pick him up as he senses there may be a slight difference inside of Brice’s body. Owen follows them into a separate area where Cain places him on an exam table. He rushes out as he starts to yell for Damien to come quickly. Owen looks down at his grayish-colored friend and wonders if something has went gravely wrong with Brice. At this point, the half man half demon has gotten his original face back but has retained various features of the creature like his coloring, his feet, and even his gargantuan cock. Owen keeps staring at it in awe as Brice bounces it for him. It is at this point that Brice can speak again and whispers into his friend’s ear. ‘Please you have got to relieve this load building inside me. It just keeps building and it is driving my mind crazy.’ Owen stands there and debates on whether he should even honor this request since it may be too dangerous. What would the Darkori’s do to him if he did in fact relieve Brice? ‘Damnit Brice, I…..can’t buddy……I don’t know what they would do to me if I did that?’ Brice moans deeply as he feels a volcano of precum flowing out the slit of his cock. He grabs Owen on the arm and pulls him towards the leaking pole. Owen tries to resist as he feels pre hitting him in the face. It immediately makes his body start to tingle as his mind begins to race wildly. Before he locks lips on the giant pole, he is thrown across the room and knocked unconscious. Brice yells, ‘NO! WHY?’ seeing his friend lying there motionless. Damien Darkori immediately locks lips on the leaking rod and pumps it quickly. Brice heaves his body up and down as he launches tons of seed down inside Damien’s body. It goes pouring down all over his bare red chest and face as he gulps as much down as he can. Cain watches in the distance as he picks up Owen and slings him over his shoulder. Brice’s feet finally return to normal as Damien finishes drinking down the massive gallon of cum that the man demon produced. He pulls the shrinking cock out of his mouth as it sits silently on Brice’s leg. Damien turns to look at Brice and smiles a bit before he turns around to leave the area. Brice jumps up quickly and realizes that his skin is still gray. Cain walks over to him and puts his free hand on the scared man’s shoulder. ‘I know what you are thinking Brice, but I am here to tell you that being gray isn’t so bad. Look at it as a stepping stone to something better. You are not the same human anymore, you are something far better. I suggest you stay here overnight so me and Damien can help you with your diagnosis. Don’t worry about Owen, he took a licking but he will be fine.’ He pats the helpless man on the back and turns to leave the area. Brice goes back to the table and sits down with his hands on his face. He begins to wonder what will happen next as he ponders his next move.
  2. Links to other chapters: Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend Chapter 20 Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 February 10th, 2022 2050 Hours Alvarez, already shirtless and oiling himself up, answered the knock on his door. Naturally, it was Lang. “Right on time. Come on in,” he said. Lang came in, babbling with his usual over-the-top excitement that preceded every Pose and Approve session. “So what do you think the brass thought?” he asked eagerly as he pulled off his t-shirt. Alvarez tossed a bottle of heated mineral oil to his buddy, who uncapped it and began to smear oil onto his muscles as well. “Did you see that old Admiral Whatsisname? Jesus, he looked awesomely p i s s e d o f f, man! And what about all those other dudes? Didja hear them? Didja hear them groaning?? Dude! D’ya think they all creamed their pants?” “Of course they did. They always do. It’s the guaranteed effect.” Alvarez sighed, oiling his triceps, shaking his head. "It's why we're here, man. It's the only reason." Lang laughed excitedly, working the oil into his muscles. “Man, those dudes ain’t never seen muscle like ours before, right? Right?” He flexed powerful biceps and nodded into one of the room’s full-length mirrors with a frowning sneer. “Asshole dudes never seen guns like these, right? pow! bam!!” “Oh, shut the fuck up,” muttered Alvarez. Lang stared. He was suddenly quiet. Alvarez continued to oil himself up. He looked worried. “What’d I say, dude?” Lang asked plaintively, his arms outstretched. Alvarez walked over to him and stood nose to nose before him, the bulges in Alvarez’s jeans and Lang’s posers just touching. He reached around Lang to the back of his head and, guiding his face close, planted a deep kiss onto his perfect lips. He worked his tongue into Lang’s mouth, who responded deeply. Then he pulled back and gazed long and hard into Lang’s deep brown eyes. “I’m sorry. Forget them,” he said reassuringly. “Let’s pose.” “Yeah! Pose and approve!” shouted Lang, and then giggled apologetically, clamping his hand over his mouth in response to Alvarez’s stern look. “Shut up. We don’t want everyone in here.” “Sorry, dude.” “Tonight is just us.” “Sorry, dude! Let’s rock!” Both turned and looked at their reflection in Alvarez’s three-paneled mirror. Excepting Alvarez’s mustache, the two powerful musclemen were almost exact duplicates of one another: tall, dark, and handsome, with deep brown eyes, taut cheekbones and shiny black hair. Their ripped, 285-pound physiques were perfect symphonies of bulging muscle. Lang nodded and forgot all about the brass. He did a crab crunch into the mirror. “Freakkkkyyy…” he muttered. “Swole. So swole.” His veins exploded with throbbing power. Alvarez was undoing his belt, unzipping his zipper, working his tight jeans gradually down his ripped quads. “Pose and approve time, man,” he said to Lang. “Pose and approve.” He picked up a remote and lowered the room’s lights, bringing up the glare of the overhead spotlight focused on the 15' posing dais in front of the mirrors. “Yeah, man, let’s get to it!” Lang ripped off his clothes and stepped up onto the dais as Alvarez kicked away his jeans. Both men were now only barely covered with skimpy royal blue competition posing trunks with hundreds of bright spangles sewn onto the extra-large pouches. The spangles caught the light and glistened like small sapphires. Alvarez stood before him. “You go first.” For an instant, Lang was honored to be going first, as the unspoken law between them during their nightly mutual muscle worship sessions was that Alvarez always got to pose before he did. Tonight was apparently different; even so, Lang was instantly caught up in the sheer joy of his own reflection of muscular near-perfection, and he forgot it right away. The muscleman stood quietly, his heavy arms around his back, his hands clasped. He waited. His ripped abs seemed to extend forever, cobbled fatless bricks laced with thick veins. His cock poled out in his posers. But still he waited. Alvarez was always in charge of Pose and Approve. “Go.” “I’m fucking ….. awesummmmm…..” Lang moaned, loving himself. He slowly curled his huge body into a side biceps pose and turned his head to cockily grin at his reflection. Then he glanced uncertainly at Alvarez in the mirror. “Talk to me,” he demanded, but Alvarez knew he was really begging. “Tell me I’m huge.” Alvarez was not about to let him down. “Yeah, you’re huge, man,” whispered Alvarez with warm smoothness, and he shifted his weight, smoothing the small pools of oil onto his delts. “Those guns of yours look to be about 23 inches. Check out your fist. Motherfucking huge. You could seriously do some serious bare knuckle damage with a fist like that.” His muscles were now gleaming with oil. Lang laughed joyfully. “I have, man! I’ve cleared a few barrooms in my day!” “Punching out ba-a-a-d dudes with those fists?” “Yeah, punching out the bad dudes! Check out these veins, man! They’re like super highways, man! Pumping, buddy. Pumpin’ it up for ya, man.” Lang pumped and flexed. Alvarez capped the bottle, set it down, and turned back, rubbing his hands together. “Oh, yeah, man. That’s good. Nice. Big old motherfucking biceps. Flex those guns for me, man.” “I’m flexing these guns for ya, bro. BOOM. Big muscle in the house,” he cried out joyfully. “Yeah, I see you, man. Nice. Nice big muscles. Biggest muscleman on earth, man.” “’Cept for you, bro. You’re bigger,” said Lang. Alvarez stepped onto the dais under the spotlight, and standing between Lang and the mirror, smoothed hot oil onto Lang’s glistening pecs, stroking his muscles appreciatively. They stood nose-to-nose, not six inches apart. Lang flexed powerful biceps. “Don’t know about that.” Alvarez smoothly applied oil to the granite softballs of Lang’s peaks. Lang stared at himself, transfixed. In his posing trunks his heavy cock was already pointing straight ahead. Alvarez clapped Lang’s huge biceps in his palms. “Like fucking rocks.” “Yeah, man, like fucking boulders, I know. Feel ‘em, man. Feel my muscles.” His eyes took in the mirror reflection of Alvarez’s awesome glutes. “I’m there, man, doing your muscles for you, man.” Alvarez licked his pecs, kissed each bulging biceps, and lightly bit Lang’s nipples. Then he knelt, leaned in and whispered again, his face now level to Lang’s bulging crotch. His breath softly exploded onto Lang’s stiffening cockshaft appearing as his posing trunks poled heavily outward. “You’re big, man. Real big.” “I’m big, hunh?” asked Lang. Now that Alvarez was on his knees and not blocking his upper body reflection, he was gazing at himself with hypnotic eagerness. “Motherfucking huge muscleman, dude.” Lang could feel Alvarez’s breath lightly exploding onto his junk. Still, he never looked away from his own reflection. “So reward me, man. Reward me for my muscles. Reward me for this pose.” “You got it, man. Here comes your reward.” “Thanks, bro,” purred Lang, gazing now in rapture at the pointing peaks of his biceps, his tongue slightly hanging out. His buddy approved. He was in heaven. He’d taken first place in the show running in his head. He and his buddy. “Just keep posing, man.” Alvarez gently opened his mouth and tenderly began to suck Lang’s big cock through his posing trunks. Lang glided into his next pose, a side-chest. And then a front lat spread. His pelvis pushed forward. His poser straining with cock. The pose and approve ritual always began with each man wearing his posing trunks for as long as he could manage to keep them on. They mentally pictured themselves on a competition stage, posing for overwhelmed judges and an audience of thousands of screaming fans, while under the lights, they were really posing only for each other, taking turns kneeling and occasionally bending and sucking each other’s erect cocks through their trunks. They fantasized no one else would be allowed to touch them. They’d turn and punch the lights out of anyone who dared. But the reality was that anyone who wanted to suck their cocks could do so. With just a little begging. After all, big musclemen deserve to get their cocks sucked. Now Alvarez was licking the bobbing cockhead through the straining cloth, running his tongue up and down Lang’s piss slit. Then he deep-throated him, holding the giant cock tenderly in his warm mouth. He held it for 30 seconds. Above him, Lang gulped and continued to pose. Then Alvarez slowly slid his lips off the big dick. The bulging fabric of the bursting poser was wet with saliva. He looked up and winked at the grateful Lang. “Big musclemen like you work hard,” he said with a quiet smile. “You pump those awesome muscles into unbelievable size. When you flex those muscles, it’s mind-blowing. You deserve a reward for all that hard work. You deserve to get your big cock sucked.” “Thanks, man.” “Don’t mention it, bro.” Alvarez ran his hands smoothly up and down Lang’s obliques, smacking his firm sides. He nodded, then looked up. “You got a lat spread you want to show me, man?” He licked his buddy’s abs and waited. “Comin’ up, “Lang breathed, and with a small explosion of breath, he grabbed the straps of his posers, pulled them taut, planted his fists into his obliques, and pumped his rocky pecs into their full mass. He spread his legs wide, the pouch of his posing trunks bulging forward with his fully erect 10-inch penis. Alvarez, still licking the washboard abs, stroked the cock with his thick fingers, glanced up and nodded. “Good lat spread. Great pecs. Lemme see you bounce ‘em. Show me, now.” “Okay.” Lang began to bounce his flexing pecs back and forth in dance of perfect machine gun muscle rhythm. “Yeah, man. Doin’ some serious pec dancing for you now. Boom. Boom. Boom. Watch ‘em, now. Watch these pecs of mine do their thing.” “Do that pec dance thing for me, baby,” said Alvarez. He watched Lang’s bouncing pecs for a full minute. Then he leaned in and licked the cockhead, again through the posers. “I approve. Here’s your reward.” Alvarez once again opened his mouth wide, and with a quick fleck of his tongue against his lips, took the bulging pouch of Lang’s posers full down his throat. Lang, his pecs still dancing, began to slowly pump his hips, fucking face. Bursts of warm precum began to stain the poser fabric, blooming into a widening pool of moisture. Alvarez could see the giant slit of Lang’s big penis head, and licked respectfully. After a minute, he released another small explosion of breath to signify to the bodybuilder kneeling before him that he was going to change his pose again. “Front double biceps,” he announced, and swung his arms up into mighty peaks. Alvarez pulled back slightly, licked the cockhead again, and rocked back on his heels. In his own posing trunks his cock was now full 11 inches erect and poling above the waistband, slap tight against his abs. “Lookin’ good. Now hold that for two minutes. No, three. Hold that pose solid without moving for three minutes. Then you’ll get your reward.” It was agony. Lang loved it. He fiercely held the mountainous peaks of his 23-inch biceps for three full minutes. Sweat began pouring down his face. “Flexing for ya, man!” He bared his lips and gritted his teeth into a grimace. His veins exploded down his neck. The veins in his forearms were like cables of steel wire. He raised one biceps, then the other, again dancing them back and forth. The baseball peaks of his guns gleamed in the spotlight. On his knees before him, Alvarez gazed up worshipfully, pumping his own cock right out of his posing trunks, but not touching Lang. “It’s been more than three minutes,” Lang finally said through his gritted teeth. “So reward me, man! Suck my cock, man!” “Think you deserve a reward?” Alvarez teased, now stroking Lang’s cock tenderly with his tongue. “For these guns? You bet, baby. Take that big cock of mine down your throat now!” “You got it, man.” Alvarez fell forward onto his knees again, his mouth wide open, and landed bulls-eye onto the giant pole bursting in Lang’s posing trunks, taking it all into his mouth. For three minutes, he sucked cock, up and down, licking, spitting, back and forth, deep sucking. Lang gazed down at him, relaxed his biceps a few seconds, and then resumed the pose. He was rock hard. “Dig these guns, man, and suck my cock. Suck your approval. Pose and approve me. Pose and approve.” “Yeah, you like it when I suck your cock while you’re posing?” breathed Alvarez. He licked the mammoth bulge in Lang’s posing trunks. “I can see you onstage, man. Flexing for all those asshole judges. Blowing them all away. Never seen biceps as big as yours. Never seen a cock as big as yours. Poling out in your posing trunks. Big old heavy bulge. Big cocks need to get sucked.” “Yeah? Well, man, I like it when you suck my cock. I like it when you suck my cock while I’m posing for those assholes.” Greedily, Alvarez licked the cloth covering Lang’s heavy testicles. “Lickin’ your balls now, man, licking your balls.” “Put ‘em in your mouth, man. Put my balls in your mouth.” Still flexing, he looked down and eyed Alvarez’s cock hungrily. Alvarez was pumping it now with both hands. It looked like a firehose. Suddenly Lang wanted to suck it. But he didn’t want Alvarez to stop. He dropped to his knees. Alvarez lowered with him, knowing what he wanted. As he watched, Lang flexed his right biceps one more time; Alvarez nodded approval; then Lang leaned in to Alvarez’s cock. He pulled the posing trunks over the cockhead onto Alvarez’s balls, and brought it into his mouth. Alvarez kept sucking. Together the two bodybuilders slowly lowered their huge bodies onto the posing dais under the spotlight and began to service each other with a full-body 69 grapple. Their arm muscles rippled against each other as each man gripped the other’s hard glutes, thick fingers gripping slabs of butt muscle. Each man ecstatically sucked his muscle buddy’s gigantic rod, their balls both still barely covered by their straining posing trunks. After 18 minutes of violent 69 sucking, their posing trunks finally tore from the strain. Rrr-i-i-i-i-pp! Their bullish balls burst free in unison, and each man eagerly licked the other’s heavy testicles passionately. “Next time, you pose first,” whispered Lang, and Alvarez looked over at him, grinned, and flexed a biceps. Lang nodded seriously. “I approve,” he said, “now here’s your reward,” and he bent in, sucking cock. The slurping, moaning, sucking sounds echoed down the corridor. In his room, Private Chris Hension, lying naked in bed, covered with sweat, his pole rising stiffly towards the ceiling, finally couldn’t take it any more. He jumped out of bed, grabbed a robe and a pair of purple spangly posers, stepped into them, fitting his huge member into the pouch with some difficulty, and tore out of his room. He ran down the hallway, his half-tumescent, half-sheathed cock waggling in the breeze, and stopped at Alvarez’s door. He waited an instant – and was about to knock – but, what the hell. He banged on the door, threw it open, and walked in. He knew it would be unlocked. Somehow instinctively he knew they were waiting for him. And so they were. The two musclemen lay on the dais, sucking each other’s cocks, their mammoth physiques coated with a glistening layer of sweat. Without removing dick from mouth, each man slowed for a moment and gazed up at Hension questioningly. “Were we making too much noise?” asked Alvarez, his speech garbled by Lang’s cock. “Yeah. I’d say,” said Hension. He threw his robe to the floor and stood before them in his favorite posing strap, his own erection poling straight ahead. He slammed the door behind him and stepped forward, whipping his arms up into a front double biceps. “Check me out,” he commanded, but there was a note of hopefulness in his voice. Of desperation, Alvarez quietly noted to himself. Good, good, all to the good. “Damn. He’s a pretty little muscleboy, ain’t he?” said Alvarez, momentarily releasing Lang’s cock. “He sure is,” said Lang, doing the same. “You see me every day, guys. I ain’t so little,” said Hension, flexing. “Maybe we’ve never noticed you before.” “Fuck you both.” “Oh, sorry. Maybe you should leave?” “NO! I wanna play too!” Hension flexed feverishly. “Okay. We’ll think about it.” Alvarez licked Lang’s dick a few times and lolled his head back towards Hension. Lang, however, appeared to take no more interest, turning his full attention to sucking his buddy’s dick. He bent in and deep-throated Alvarez’s stiff penis a few times, gagging slightly, and then resumed his gentle, steady sucking and licking. “You sure are pretty. Big biceps. Big. Good quads. Turn around.” Hension turned around, did a rear lat spread, pointing his shapely round glutes to the ceiling. “Nice. Awesome hams. Lang, you see those hams?” …..Suck suck suck suck suck…. “No? Hmmm. Guess he’s busy. Come on over here and flex for us while we suck some cock.” And Alvarez turned back to Lang’s quivering member, appearing indifferent. “I’ll show you guys,” muttered Hension, stepping onto the dais. He was ready. He’d been waiting a long time for this. And he’d been kidded, slapped, punched, and pushed around too long to not grab the moment. His moment. “I’m gonna flex now, and you’re gonna watch me!” he shouted. From the floor of the dais, Alvarez and Lang turned and looked up at him. There was a pause. “So go ahead,” said Alvarez. “Let’s see what you got.” He paused. “Boy,” he added.
  3. Catch up: Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in penis size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, innocent, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable appetite to receive muscle worship. Casey's simplicity, and his ever-growing need to receive equal doses of both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. Links to previous chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match THE TWENTY A Government Issue Adult Cartoon -XXX- Muscle Fantasy By Joey Silverado This book is dedicated to Tiny Yokum – and to all his fans, past, present, and future. Chapter 13: After the Match Casey lay on the wrestling mat, completely spent. His eye was swollen – he’d have a nice shiner tomorrow. His huge, tired muscles gleamed oily red with sweat and scratch and pressure marks from the match. Casey dripped with splotches of oil mixed with muscle cum. Lakes of cum oozed into the oil, painting his raw, vascular physique a creamy, drippy, white, gathering in little lakes in the deep cobblestones of his abs, rolling in thick tides down his lats and onto the mat. “What the fuck?” he asked plaintively. “What kinda place IS this?” He sniffed the air. Cum. Everything smelled of cum. Around and above him the men were zipping up, putting their cocks away, retrieving sweaty, torn clothing. Karim Abdul, the vanquished muscle monster, lay to his left. Enraged, cum-coated, growling. “I’ll get you, kid,” he threatened. He stood, rivulets of cum flowing down from his face onto his massive traps. He started off. He stopped when he got to Blankenship. Blankenship grinned toothily. It didn’t last long. POW!!! Blankenship flew about 20 feet into the air from the force of Abdul’s uppercut punch, his feet never touching the ground. A tooth, suddenly without a home, landed beside him. Out cold. “Where you going, Corporal?” Moster demanded, stuffing his massive, dripping cock back into his pants and zipping up with some difficulty over the bulge. Abdul ignored him, stalking out the room. "Come on, Pedro," he barked to the pretty little kitchen boy, who scampered eagerly after him. “Someone get Blankenship and put him to bed.” Moster sighed, knowing that the muscleman would demand a match of his own the next day. And on it would go, until he was forced once again into public bare-butt spankings to keep them in line. Funny how they’d deck one another but submit meekly to hard paddling on their razor sharp glutes. The men stared a little – though all had seen Moster’s cock before – in fact, all the men had at various points sucked it dry, and had their own faces coated with the steady, unrelenting stream of ropey gism that shot from his deep piss slit. But no one could remember a group scene quite like what had just occurred. Abdul stalked off to the showers, Schumacher and Obatu bent to pick up a groggy, moaning Blankenship. Moster took his clipboard to a desk in the corner of the wrestling room and lowered his rockhard muscle butt into the swivel chair, which sagged and groaned under his mass. Corporal Alvarez and Private Lang, who had called Casey a motherfucker, but somehow managed to make it sound good, turned to check out the new muscle kid last time as they passed through the door back to their quarters, where they planned to fuck butt all night. They knew Moster wouldn’t be paying attention. Not tonight. Casey caught their look, and they nodded briefly at him. Lang gave him a half smile. Then he winked. And then they were both gone. Schumacher didn’t leave right away, though. He handed Blankenship over to LeFevre and stood back, watching like a hawk as the others filed out. Then he walked boldly right up to Casey. He looked up at him. “Sergeant Moster has another little honorary initiation ritual on that I think you may find both interesting and rewarding.” He smiled. “We’d like the opportunity to take you through it tomorrow.” “I - I’ll be honored to be a part of it.” “Yes, you will.” “Get out of here, Schumacher,” said Moster with good-natured gruffness. Schumacher looked blankly at Moster, who hadn’t even looked up from his notes. “And it won’t be tomorrow. It won’t be any time soon.” He looked up. “For Casey, that is. However, I’d be happy to accommodate you at any time.” His hand twitched and Schumacher instinctively shot a hand down to protect his glutes. “Yes, sir.” Schumacher left the lab. “Sorry about that, Casey,” said Moster, as soon as he was gone. “Corporal Schumacher gets a bit riled over anything having to do with Private Tiffany. They all have their quirks. You’ll adjust. Those last two men? They were Private Robert Lang and Corporal Julio Alvarez. Those two specimens were brought into the facility only a year ago. Others have come, but not everyone makes it through, and if they fail, then Zaftig releases them back into the general population. In fact, only 1 in 50 make it as far as you have. Now, drop your posers. It’s time I inspected your penis more closely.” Casey slightly rolled his eyes. “Again, sir?” “I’m not going to say it twice.” Casey nodded, resigned. He understood. It was about his penis, after all. Not his muscles. His dong. His wang. His rod. His cock. His huge motherfucking penis. It was always about his huge motherfucking penis. Moster was watching him steadily, his eyes narrowing. “Is there a problem, cadet?” he asked quietly, after a moment. “No problem, at all, sir.” He slipped his fingers into the elastic band of his torn, micro posing trunks and pulled it out from his body, and slid it down over his quads. Pop….. Smack! His giant penis poured out and slapped down onto his quads just above his knees. Immediately it stiffened slightly. The bell-like cock head bobbed forward once or twice, and the pulsing veins in the shaft began to throb a little more rapidly. Casey was breathing hard now. He was beet red with embarrassment. Moster never stopped looking him in the eye. He strode forward and grabbed hold of his thick penis in his left hand, squeezing the shaft lightly. Casey’s eyes widened in profound surprise. It grew hard in the palm of his hand. His palm glided up and down the warm steely rod 2, 3 times, very slowly. It grew under his hand. “Impressive. How big is this machine of yours?” He stroked it with his fingers. “I see you didn’t cum during the match." He began to rub his heavy hands with practiced movements up and down the boy’s thick shaft. “I – I don’t know, sir.” Casey had begun to sweat. Moster remained cool. “No, I didn’t shoot.” He shuffled from side to side, and his penis slipped out of Moster’s palm. Moster looked up. He took hold of the cock firmly once again. “You seem agitated. You badly need some additional training. Part of what marks this troop is their ability to restrain their emotional responses. And it seems to me your cock is responding emotionally.” Moster continued to stroke Casey’s machine vigorously. “So since we’re going in that general direction, let’s take a few additional measurements. Private Tiffany!” he suddenly called out towards the open corridor door. No response, but Casey made out a figure in the darkened shadows of the corridor. “Private Joe Tiffany. I know you’re out there. Step in here now, Private.” Tiffany appeared in the doorway. The young bodybuilder had removed his t-shirt and stood stripped to the waist. His ripped muscles gleamed in the fluorescent light. He entered the lab and walked bow-legged, a coiled cobra, towards the two musclemen in the center of the room. “Take some additional measurements, Tiffany. You know what I am referring to.” Tiffany smiled. “Yes, sir, I know.” He approached Casey. Looking him squarely in the eyes, he knelt with business-like efficiency before him. When his eyes were level with Casey’s member, he looked squarely at it. “What is the diameter, Private Tiffany?” Moster reached again for the clipboard, all business. Tiffany opened his smiling mouth wide and moved towards Casey’s cock. Casey nearly jumped out of his skin. “What’s he doing?!” “Private Tiffany has an unusual talent. It’s like having perfect pitch. He can take exact measurements with his mouth. He’s never off by more than 1/64th of an inch. Go for it, Private. Enjoy yourself, Casey.” “Flex for me, dude,” cajoled Tiffany sweetly, his mouth hovering just above the head of Casey’s enormous penis. “Come on, man, let’s see those big rocky peaks.” He flicked his tongue out and lightly touched the corona. “Sir…” Casey started to say. “Cadet Rockland, Project Herculaneum soldiers do as they’re told. Private Tiffany will now suck your cock. If you have a problem with this, speak up now. We administer regular oral-stimulation sessions here at Valhalla Labs.” “But ….it’s so gay, sir.” Tiffany snickered. “You’re standing there covered with oil and cum and you’re complaining about this being gay?” Moster stepped forward and spoke evenly. “That’s enough, Tiffany,” Tiffany immediately shut up. Moster turned to Casey. “Muscle is its own sex. Some have posited over the years that sex is bad for bodybuilders. We know better here. Cocksucking is not only pleasurable, it stimulates the psyche. It clears out problems with the prostate. Done regularly and properly it enhances semen production. It sharpens the animal instincts, to say nothing of increasing testosterone production. It also serves to further bond the men.” “You mean everyone sucks dick here.” “Everyone who wants to remain in The Project get their cocks sucked. Not only that, they are expected to suck cocks themselves. Regularly. Is there an issue? Are you frightened?” “No….I…..what if he bites me?” Tiffany gave him a lopsided smile, which he meant to be charming. “I never bite too hard,” he said. “I assure you Private Tiffany knows what he is doing. Proceed, Private.” “Okay…..” said Casey, bewildered. “Let’s see those guns, cadet,” said Tiffany. Slowly, as if hypnotized, Casey raised his arms up into front double biceps. Joe Tiffany smiled like a little boy in a candy store. He flicked a little river of cum that followed a thick vein from the cannonball right biceps to the tri’s. Then he squatted on his handsome haunches. He glanced at the mammoth machine that hung before him, and spoke out of the side of his mouth. “This looks like a real jaw-breaker, sir.” “You’ve worked with mine. It’s far bigger. Get to work,” Sergeant Moster commanded, clipboard ready. “Yes, sir. Anything for the good old USA, sir.” Tiffany fingered his Adam’s apple. “Gotta limber up.” He opened his mouth as wide as he could, yawning it four or five times, retracting his teeth behind his lips. He pressed his palm to his jaw and tilted his head, then raised his hands and gently pried his own mouth open to its fullest expanse. He licked his lips until they dripped with spit. Casey watched him intently, still flexing his biceps. His brain was burning. Tiffany approached Casey’s fully erect manhood, gently guided it up to his mouth, parted his lips slightly, and tenderly extended his tongue to lightly flick the big cock head. Flick. Flick. Flick. Casey blinked. Tiffany ran his tongue along the piss slit and probed a little inside. He looked up again. “What’s your preliminary estimate, Private?” “I’d say it looks to be between 14 and 14 -1/2 inches in length, sir.” “Very good. Girth? “9 inches at least.” “Confirm it, please.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany leaned in and oh so softly glided his lips smoothly over the head of Casey’s penis. He closed his mouth and gently held firm. He closed his eyes, as if concentrating. Inside his mouth, his tongue methodically caressed the cock head. Casey was blown away. He stared down at the cocky short muscleman whose mouth was now enveloping the head of his penis. No one had ever sucked his cock before, let alone a man, let alone a muscleman. He gulped. Shit, Casey thought. Shit. I’m gonna cum. “Sir, I’m gonna cum, sir!” he blurted out. “Not yet you’re not. No man in my outfit cums in 5 seconds. Control yourself, cadet. Tiffany, what’s your first assessment? How big is this cadet’s cock?” Tiffany, his mouth full of cockhead, tried to respond. He couldn’t. Even he was surprised at the girth of Casey’s member. “MMgghblrb,” he said. “Gaaggg…mmmmhyrpphhhglub……aaaaackk…” “I can’t understand you when you mumble, damn it. Speak plainly, Private.” Tiffany pulled back for a moment, giving the head a final appreciative lick as it popped out of his mouth. “Yes, sir!” He reported, “The corona, I’d say, has a circumference of 10 and 3/8s inches. That sound about right to you, boy?” he asked wickedly. “I…I dunno…” Casey was baffled. What's a corona? Did he mean his cock head? One thing was sure: he was gonna get this guy. He wants to suck my cock, does he? Okay, then. “Now for the shaft.” He smiled again and whispered up to Casey. “This is the fun part,” he said. “Go for it, faggot.” Casey muttered. Tiffany raised an amused eyebrow, then winked at him and plunged forward, his mouth taking in all of Casey’s massive organ. His lips slid easily over the thick shaft, and somehow – by an instinctive rearrangement of tonsils? and a replacement of his soft palate? his mouth glided smoothly down the full length of the erect penis. When he reached the base, once again he stopped. Inside his mouth his tongue stroked the thick, pulsing cock veins. The penis grew stiffer and began to throb insistently inside Tiffany’s mouth. Tiffany sucked Casey’s cock. Back and forth, up and down, tip to base, his lips glided smoothly over the engorged shaft. Threads of thick glistening saliva appeared along the pulsing veins with each plunge. After 10 deep sucks, 5 very appreciative full-length licks, and a little tongue-and-balls-dancing, he pulled back again a moment, and, his eyes dancing merrily up at Casey, he coated the heavy, hairy testicles three or four final times. “Very nice,” he whispered. “Too bad you’ll have to shave these babies.” Okay, thought Casey. Maybe this guy was an asshole, but he was beginning to enjoy this. Something came alive inside him for the first time in his life. Hey, he thought, I really like this. This feels really good. “How do you like it, cadet?” asked Moster, clearly amused. “I like it fine, sir.” Casey managed to get out. “Private Tiffany, resume sucking.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany went back to work. He sucked deeply five more times, and then pulled back for what he thought was a final time. As Casey’s penis rolled out of his mouth, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He turned to Moster, ready to report. “The shaft circumference is unusually thick. I’d put at just over 9 inches. Length of the erect penis, 14 -1/4 inches from base to tip. Weight, maybe 7 pounds, a few ounces? Give or take.” “Your overall assessment?” Casey was staring, excited beyond words, and getting mad as hell. Why had he stopped? This was just getting good. His erect member lobbed back and forth in the air, protesting, next to Tiffany’s left ear, who had turned to face Moster. Tiffany felt the wind of it as it passed, and studied ignored the whooshing sounds. “Definitely a superior organ. I sense he has not used it much in sport yet, aside from masturbating, but I’d also guess he has to masturbate 4 or 5 times a day. Maybe more. There’s a lot of blood pumping here, and it throbs steadily throughout the sucking process. I’d guess this cock hasn’t been sucked very often before, if ever.” “That’s all you know,” said Casey. “Seems unlikely that such a big muscleboy hasn’t found suitable candidates eager to give him regular blowjobs. There’s lots of men out there who like to suck bodybuilder cock. I suppose women, too. Still, Zaftig said this boy is different. All right, then. You’re done for now. Dismissed. Back to your quarters.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany got up and winked at Casey, wiping his mouth. “See you later,” he said smugly, and sauntered out of the room. Casey stood trembling. “Do you need to shoot, Cadet?” asked Moster, all business. “Yes, sir, I’m afraid I do, sir.” “Get to it, then.” Moster walked casually over to the main table of the lab, put down the clipboard, and surreptitiously picked up a 2-quart beaker. He approached Casey. Casey grabbed his engorged cock with both hands. His body shuddered. He was about to let loose with a mighty blast of gism. Moster was prepared. He strode forward and grabbed Casey’s cock, and in the moment he exploded, he had the beaker ready. He calmly forced the beaker over the cockhead. Casey was stunned, but couldn’t stop his semen from bursting into the jar. “UUUUNNNNGHHH!” he shouted, and his cum flowed heavily out of his shooting dick and began to fill the container with its milky white thick fluid. “UUUUUUUUNNNNNGGGGHHHHHHHHH!! uuunnnggHHHGGHH!!! YEAH! OH GOD YEAH MAN!” As Casey’s huge body shuddered with spurt after spurt, the cum level climbed, half filling the jar. “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhUNHHH ARRRRGGGGGG hhhhhhhhhhhh hhhhh……” Three minutes later, with a last huge shrug, he was done. As he shuddered to a finish, Moster corked the beaker and held it aloft. He swirled the thick liquid in each and smiled. “Not bad, cadet,” he said calmly. “Close to a pint. Pretty good for a first shot. You’ll do better later.” Casey was meek and baffled and embarrassed. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “Dismissed. We’ll see you at the gym tomorrow at 0700 hours. Get some sleep, Casey. Good night.” He turned and marched out of the room. Casey wiped his dripping dick with the back of his hand. He picked up his clothes and dressed quickly, forcing his still-hard cock into his shorts. But he wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot. “Shit,” he said. He stood alone in the center of the room, his ripped posing trunks stretched around his ankles, the pole of his mammoth cock weaving out of control in the air. He closed his eyes and scrunched up his face. He was going to shoot again. He grabbed his cock with both hands, and fired towards the ceiling. “UUUUNNNNNGGGGHHHH!” he shouted, and, as ropes of semen began once again to fly into the air, hitting the ceiling, painting the walls, and splashing onto the ground. As his cum shot out of his enormous cock head, he was thinking feverishly. He remembered the cum on Abdul’s handsome Arab face. And he had been accepted into The Nineteen. Would they now be known as The Twenty? Casey knew it to be true. He could now be considered one of the world’s finest bodybuilders, if Project Herculaneum wasn’t so top-secret, and he wasn’t even 20 years old yet. He was powerful. He had a future. He had promised. He was in the elite. The last of his cum geyser shot into the air, arced, and splashed heavily on the sopping marley floor beneath him. His shoulders slumped and he dropped his hands to his sides. So why was he still bothered by something he couldn’t quite figure out? And how come that evil little muscle boy Joe Tiffany looked so familiar to him. Who was he? And why couldn’t he put his finger on it? Casey bent to put what was left of his ripped and shredded posing trunks back on. They barely covered his cock, but he didn’t notice. He waddled to the door of the wrestling room to head back to his quarters for the night. Tomorrow he would move into his new room. He had a lot to think about. He’d have to think about it all.
  4. The first two chapters of my muscle novel-in-progress, The Twenty. Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 24 - Further Encounters 5: Sam and Casey Again, and Moster and the Cadets Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes the twentieth muscle god, young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 19-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decades-long Project, itself only now beginning to suggest its full potential. Introduction The 3-story steel, glass, and concrete compound was snugly nestled in the misty rural hills that rolled gently inland from the ocean, where the Santa Ana winds met the hot air rising from the distant desert to the east. Poised at the edge of the highest peak of the Santa Cruz Mountains, the 4,000-acre gated complex was just barely visible from the discreet entrance on Pacific Coast Highway below. A single sign stood at the locked automatic entrance gate, reading - Private No Outlet The private drive wound up the mountain, snaking through dark woods of redwood and pine, finally arriving at the labyrinth of vine-covered high concrete walls, topped with barbed wire, which surrounded the entire complex. Closed circuit cameras marked every turn of the road. Manicured lawns and open fields could be occasionally glimpsed through thick veils of leaves, branches and red rock. 350 miles south was Los Angeles. San Jose was the closest city, 30 miles away. Local residents drove past the gate on Pacific Coast Highway, wondering about the mysterious multi-million dollar complex. The place had seemed to spring up overnight, seemingly from nothing, more than 10 years before. The traffic in and out was largely limited to food delivery and supply vans. Unseen generators hummed through the night. The people who worked there appeared to be in residence. Was it an athletic training facility? Low planes flying overhead clearly identified a likely indoor Olympic-sized swimming pool, bicycle trails, playing fields, and more. There were also a few outer buildings that appeared to be well-appointed dormitories, with small lawns and private drives. A building attached to the central core might possibly be a central hall, with sizable private, enclosed terraces open to the sky. Convoys of SUVs, all bearing the logo VALHALLA LABS were parked in a half-empty parking lot in front of the main building. Occasionally local delivery men, bringing whole sides of raw beef, fresh vegetables, lab equipment, chemicals, electrical supplies, and – this was the most perplexing part – hundreds of tons of expensive exercise equipment would spot one or two dozen young men on bicycles, pedaling furiously through the high hills, always followed at a discreet distance by an unmarked black car and by the one of the SUVs. From a distance the men on the bicycles appeared to be unusually large. In any event, the local deliverymen weren’t talking. Most would just shrug and say they didn’t know. Besides, they’d signed a confidentiality agreement barring their conversation about what they might happen to observe within. And since no one appeared unduly nervous about the place, over the years the matter dropped. Still, the rural locals who hung out at the motorcycle bars and music clubs nestled deep in the hills continued to buzz. Most assumed that it was some kind of military base and laboratory. Others noted the apparent residence buildings from the air, and thought it was either a private Olympic training compound, or some kind of crazy health nut cult commune. Certainly it was neither a prison nor a university. But no one really knew what it was. And over the years, little by little, the mysteriously well-tended commune was enveloped in the mists of revered local mystery, a legend the hill people of the coast, who were mostly Northern California biker clubs, surfers, horsemen, and artichoke farmers, relished and loved, without knowing anything about it. Remote, mysterious, un-Google-able, not listed on any map, no one really knew what the place was, and even less was understood. However, since it was apparent that no nuclear waste was being discharged, no one worried. No one appeared on either San Jose or San Francisco streets with appeals to join some far-out religion. No shots were fired in the night. And because, in fact, the whole compound was refreshingly green, paid its local bills on time, and was mysteriously quiet at night, for years no one really worried about the place. If only they had known it was the wellspring of the Fountain of Eternal Youth. Or, as it came to be called years later, after all the fuss and scandal and stories had finally faded into the misty aura of legend – the Lourdes of Bodybuilding. ********* This is the story about the day that it all changed forever. THE TWENTY A Government Issue Adult Cartoon -XXX- Muscle Fantasy By Joey Silverado This book is dedicated to Tiny Yokum – and to all his fans, past, present, and future. From Dr. Warren Irving’s Notes List sorted according to date of entry into program. Click tables to see details. Chapter 1: Project Herculaneum October 20th, 2021 1855 Hours In Valhalla Labs’ 15,000 square foot soundproofed gym, 18 of the longtime test subjects of Project Herculaneum were approaching the second hour of their balls-to-the-wall workout. On the west wall, one-way visibility windows framed the magnificent mountaintop panoramas in the growing twilight. As the sun disappeared, the glass increasingly glowed with the golden reflections of a roomful of massive male musculature. The workout floor crackled with the sounds of iron clangs, grunts, groans, and ecstatic roars of pain, shouts and taunts. The air was thick with hot sweat, crotch and armpit smell. Low ranking solders in the US Army, and ranging in age from 20 to 45, the 18 were, to use the argot of the world of male bodybuilding, freaks. Huge muscle freaks. Animals. Swole. Jacked to the balls. ‘Roided to the tits. Except that they weren’t ‘roided at all. Every man on the squad was clean and clear of the usual bodybuilding drugs required to build massively muscled specimens of uncommon size and strength. And they weren’t just conventionally “huge” either. All of the soldiers of Project Herculaneum were fired by one supplement only. P21. And Project Herculaneum, now approaching the end of its first decade, was finally yielding the astonishing results promised from the beginning back in 2007. The Project Director and Genius Factotum, Dr. Ira Zaftig, had long dubbed his lab creation enzyme P21, “The Fountain of Youth.” The wellspring of eternal energy, strength, youth, beauty, and sexual power. Perhaps the secret of life itself. The Men of Project Herculaneum thought of P21 differently, though. “It’s the straightest line between two mostly unreachable points: freaky muscle, and ba-boom!” Or so said Private 1st Class Dan Gunst, a 6’-10”, 375-pound mountain of ripped muscle whose growth on the enzyme had surprised even project founder Zaftig. Off to one side, the 19th man on the squad squatted on a bench and closely surveyed the men's training with half-lidded eyes. By far the largest man in the room, CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster’s muscular perfection was unparalled, even in this room of freakishly huge men. Squared-jawed and blindingly handsome, 44-year old Rod Moster was 7’- 0” tall, weighing in at 395 ripped and shredded pounds, a black mountain of solidly ridged muscle: deeply separated, profoundly striated sheer muscle mass, boasting a body fat index of 1.2%. Dr. Zaftig was the heart and genius creator of Project Herculaneum. The squad and their CO were the ongoing subjects of his personally supervised “Top Secret” project. For years, the men had been receiving regular lab-controlled injections of Zaftig’s carefully developed muscle growth enzyme, P21. Sergeant Moster, on the enzyme for more than a decade, was the project’s powerful senior officer and unopposed trainer. Yet in spite of Moster's formidable size and strength, he was soon to be equaled by two of the soldiers in his direct command, Corporal Karim Abdul and Private Gunst. He knew it, too. The workout room met Moster’s strict standards. Room temperature was always set exactly at 90o. Moster would not allow air-conditioning on the workout floor. After all, sweat lubricates muscles and encourages growth. No one disputed Moster's rules. On a sprung workout floor measuring 10,000 square feet, there were two dozen squat racks, 42 benches, 8 rows with hundreds of dumbbells ranging from 5 to 300 pounds, and hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of gleaming machines, standing bicycles, elliptical tracks, cable racks, ropes, belts, grips, and stacks of weights. Hundreds and hundreds of tons of weights. In the distant corners of the gym, a few normal-sized Valhalla lab assistants scurried silently in the shadows with video equipment, towels, heavy water jugs, and cleaning equipment. The men on the floor never paid any attention to the pipsqueak lab rats, as they called them. Occasionally, one of the pipsqueaks meekly approached Sgt. Moster with questions or a need for direction. Moster was always gracious, brief and business-like with lab underlings. They were Zaftig’s people, after all, and he appreciated that it just might be difficult to recruit them. More importantly, the lab rats were not, after all, muscle worshippers. Geeky science majors somehow matriculated from Berkeley and Stanford, their applications for their employment were most thoroughly scanned to determine both their dedication to science, and their lack of sexual interest in the project subjects. Past circumstances had indicated that the men of Project Herculaneum were unusually vulnerable when it came to the possibilities implied by muscle worshippers. The less of that from outsiders, the better. For now, anyway. Besides, there was real money to be made with the advent of worship. That would come later. Above all, Moster didn’t want to water down the future possibilities. Some day, when all this was over, there was a lot of money to be made. Moster was counting on it. Under his leadership, the goals of his 18 musclemen were never ending, their focus never dulled by the daily routine of their sequestered lives inside the Valhalla Compound. And for Moster, it was all about building muscle. Solid, rock-hard, healthy, powerful muscle. Muscle supported by bones and internal organ strength. Whereas Dr. Zaftig was compelled to his daily grind of endless lab research and observation of the men by his quest for eternal youth, Moster was not distracted by such vague, high-minded creationist illusions. All Moster cared about was that his men develop huge, serious, ripped, dominant, clean, overpowering muscle, muscle like the world had never seen before. Moster relished the fact that his extraordinary development was still a constant inspiration to his men. He generally preferred to remain completely covered, rarely choosing to display his magnificent physique. His custom-built oversized sweatsuits were carefully tailored to camouflage his physique while not hindering movement. They were heavily reinforced at the seams to avoid tears and bursting, and were neutral in construction and color. The sweat pants were gathered into tight stretch bands at Moster’s ankles. He generally wore combat boots and a white do-rag. But even the careful design of more than 25 yards of a blend of durable synthetics and heavy cotton couldn’t disguise Moster’s 60-inch wide shoulder girth, 7'-6" reach, 70-inch chest, 36-inch quadriceps and 25-inch calves. An observer might only be able to guess at the Sergeants’ biceps, triceps, and brachialis size. Moster chose to wear his sweatshirt loose, masking a slender, powerfully shaped 32-inch waistline. He never tucked it in, always making certain he was successfully covering his crotch. He had his reasons for this, which were well known by his men. Whenever Moster appeared in uniform, or civilian clothing, his appearance was all but terrifying – and, at the same time, insanely alluring. Rod Moster's boxing, wrestling, and extreme fighting skills were superior to all but Corporal Karim. Moreover, by now in this stage of team development, Moster found he had to work harder than his men in order to maintain the very slight edge he still held. Zaftig knew this, much to Moster’s subtle discomfort. He knew could be unseated by the right man at any time. Project Herculaneum was that far along. He remained proud of his team, knowing as he did that some day soon they might surpass him. When it became apparent to all that his long-held edge over the others was narrowing, a few of the men privately anticipated the day that he might finally be bested by one of the 18. The bets were on Karim Abdul, though Abdul had no particular vendetta against Moster; all the same, it would be a day of reckoning for the alpha CO, to atone for some of the more painful and humiliating extra-curricular disciplines he had long enforced. Hey, as long as that day doesn’t come too soon, he would joke in the mess hall. And all would laugh, even as they exchanged meaningful glances. Moster’s dedication to Project Herculaneum was total, even if it did lead him to occasionally lock horns with the dreamy, physically underdeveloped senior genius Dr. Zaftig. The 67-year old Zaftig was both crafty and kind-hearted. Though he held a basic unshakable respect for all, he was not above manipulating the men’s fragile psyches to get what he wanted out of them, and he made it a priority to know and understand all of them for their personal strengths and weaknesses. Over the years, it had been hard work finding and inducting these particularly gifted men into the program, and, once introduced, each man represented years of painstaking research, investment, time and testing. It was only right that he would pay close attention to what made each man tick. On the other hand, Moster preferred to accent his authority with an occasional dash of cruelty. He felt it was good for the team. After all, life was cruel, wasn’t it? And so together, Zaftig and Moster had forged a decade-long alliance of good cop/bad cop, each man sharing in his own personal way a common goal. Both cared only for the success of Project Herculaneum. At base, however, they held profoundly different motives. Zaftig hoped to find the perfect candidate for P21. As magnificent as the 19 men were, the final, perfect genetic recipient of the miraculous compound had yet to be discovered. Sergeant Moster, meanwhile, had other plans. All those worship sessions loomed ahead on a promising horizon of money, power, travel, and new opportunities. After all, Moster wasn’t a fool. Zaftig might be, but he certainly wasn’t. Chapter 2: P21 1987-2021 Ira Zaftig’s 2007 successful lab synthesis of Protein P21 promised nothing less than a physical revolution for all mankind. For more than 30 years, the eccentric, obsessed, and touched with genius, Harvard Med educated Dr. Ira Zaftig had parlayed a vast inherited private fortune and the proceeds of his own lucrative San Francisco medical practice into ongoing lab research and experiments. At first, he sought to develop nothing less than an injectable synthetic that would, of course, cure cancer. The usual dream of every young medical researcher, the youthful and wealthy Zaftig, heir to a lumber empire long sold to a larger conglomerate for a lifetime profit that elevated him into the 1%-ers, had the means to set up a private lab to do it. Over the years, that cure for cancer evolved into something else. As he aged, Zaftig grew more interested in creating a formula permanently extending youth, while enhancing physical strength and systemic health. The years passed with no result. Zaftig grew more obsessed, and eventually discarded his practice. He never married and avoided personal relationships, building an impressive private lab in the Santa Rosa Mountains outside San Jose. And he became a hermit whose life routine was only about continual research, testing, developing, synthesizing, note-taking, and video review. He amassed a team, whose job it was to test protocol after protocol on lab rats, guinea pigs, and rhesus monkeys. None of the animals, he was satisfied to note, were ever harmed by his injections, but none ever exhibited any permanent signs of renewed vigor, either. It was as if they were injected by harmless placebos. Over time, lab teams noted some temporary strength and health benefits in some, not all, of the lab animals. The effects were temporary, at best, and it was difficult to determine which animal might feel the effects, and which ones would not. Zaftig assumed sympathetic systems were required for any effects at all to take place. By 1998, Zaftig had engaged as his permanent first assistant the all but silent, studious, equally hermetic Dr. Warren Irving, whose natural reticence disguised fervor equal to Zaftig’s. By then, Zaftig’s ever-growing lab employed small army of coming-and-going lab workers, security personnel and personal administrators, whose silence and trust was purchased with time-stamped temporary employment terms, astonishing starting salaries and carefully drafted legal confidentiality contracts, were on hand in the continually refurbished lab facility, now enlarged into a complex of some size. Since Zaftig was seeking the creation of a God, he appropriately named his ever-growing facility Valhalla Labs. At first, in the specialized world of pure research outside the lab, ‘Zaftig’s Folly’, as came to be referred to, was an unending in-joke on the perils of vanity research. However, it was equally observed that any man or woman who had served in Zaftig’s lab emerged silent, circumspect, and deeply respectful about what went on within. Over the years, the jokes stopped, and by the late 1990s, ambitious young researchers hoped to spend a few seasons at the secluded lab, if for only to slake curiosity – and to make a lot of money. Still, the lab had produced nothing. No patents had been applied for. On it went, year after year. Then, after 30 years of steady non-production, in 2003 the 53-year old Zaftig had a breakthrough. A crop of lab male lab animals appeared dramatically invigorated by a trial run of newly developed formula. Careful notations of animal behavior indicated that the rejuvenation of the lab animals was deeply organic in nature. Most importantly, after protocols were ceased, the effects remained. And the animals grew surprisingly. They did not become monsters, but measured, in some cases, a quarter larger in size and weight than they were at the outset. They were somewhat more aggressive, too, but, as all were relieved to note, did not become, maddened, dangerous or even slightly mean. In fact, personal handlers reported that the animals appeared “cheerful” and “playful.” They also, when allowed, copulated with the other males, and sometimes the females, almost continuously. This was noted by Zaftig, who duly recorded it. Dr. Irving felt Zaftig somewhat ignored the sinister implications. After a year of continually successful lab animal results in select males, it was finally time for the first human trial. Zaftig, ever the Henry Jekyll tried P21on himself. The results were disastrous: violent vomiting, nosebleeds and headaches forced Zaftig into a week of bed rest. “Wrong genetics,” he had to admit to himself. He assumed the formula was a failure for humans, and lived in despair for weeks. Once recovered, he volunteered for trial his chief lab assistant, the meek, complicit, and nearly silent Dr. Irving. The injection nearly killed him. In sympathetic systems, it was as if evolution was sped up 10,000 years. P21 was capable of creating nothing less than jaw-dropping gigantism, coupled with glowing organic health, visually stunning physical perfection, astonishing strength, grace, speed, coordination, and renewed sexual energy. It only worked on X-Y heterogametic chromosome pairings – that is to say, on human males. Moreover, at this point in its development, it was successfully observed in very few subjects. Because of the necessary secrecy of the project, Zaftig lacked proper comparative controls, but by his estimation, he calculated P21 to be beneficial for only 1 out of every 1,000 men. However, for that one recipient, the sky was the limit. Zaftig finally saw the light on a subject for whom the formula might work when he met Rod Moster. That was in 2006. Moster was facing prison then, charged with manslaughter. Zaftig had heard all about the man’s prodigious muscularity, and got him the best defense money could buy. Moster served 1 year, and was released. Zaftig awaited him at the prison gates, ready to whisk him away to the Santa Rosa Mountains, to another kind of a prison, and yet one that Moster would soon relish. And so, in 2007, Rod Moster (soon to be Sergeant, USAC, hurriedly and secretly enlisted) became Project Herculaneum’s first official entrant. The already competition-trained superheavyweight bodybuilder Moster took to P21 like a duck to water – or, rather, like gasoline to fire. And Moster beat even Zaftig’s greatest expectations. Muscles bloomed on muscle. Strength quadrupled. Now that he had a perfectly responsive candidate, Zaftig was eager to find another. Later in 2007, another superheavyweight bodybuilder, the near-silent Turkish giant Abdul Karim, was discovered at Raw Weight, the hardcore San Jose gym owned by 50-year old retired pro bodybuilder legend Miles Donovan. Immediately whisked into the program, Moster and Karim trained like madmen in the Valhalla Labs compound, where a new gym was put into construction just for the two of them. They didn’t much like one another, but that led to heightened competition, tension, anger, and, inevitably, greater muscle growth. And now Zaftig could make some truly accurate notes on the success of P21 in sympathetic systems. Zaftig observed in his lab notes that it was as if the full assimilation of P21 triggered alterations in deep genetic timestamp coding. It was exactly as if the body suddenly redefined its male development to date as late ‘childhood’, and began to take itself into something like a new ‘adolescence’, blooming into a new definition of ‘adulthood’. Consequently, accompanied by proper training and consistent regulation of nutrition and rest cycles, muscular growth was not just enhanced; it was prompted into a supersonic explosion unlike anything Zaftig had anticipated. As intended in trial development, P21 was, in effect, nothing less than a miracle formula, successful beyond Zaftig’s wildest imaginings. He was still tinkering with it in the lab, however, in hopes that somehow he might find the key to more universal acceptance, including female development. The injected enzyme boosted performance, it seemed, only in those recipients whose natural dopamine and endorphin levels had already reached a certain high capacity, following either years of regular workouts, or a monitored high-intensity training in very young, genetically predisposed teens. Moreover, once on the enzyme and going forward, steroids, regular insulin injections, pain blockers, and growth hormone proved not only unnecessary, but also potentially dangerous. A protocol of P21 worked best on a naïve system, or, at the very least, a metabolism cleaned over time from the longtime effects of other injectables. Mental acuity was not diminished, but then again, it wasn’t improved, either. At first, Zaftig had been disappointed P21 didn’t produce intellectual giants as well, but in time he accepted it. After all, as long as subjects weren’t rendered newly stupid by the protocol, and followed orders, he accepted that it wasn’t really an issue. It was about muscles and strength, not smarts. More subjects were introduced into the program. By 2011, the men in the program included competitive bodybuilders Rene Lefevre, Herman Schumacher, Anthony Chad, Derek Washington, and William Obatu. Muscle monsters all at the outset, and mostly discovered by Miles Donovan, as each man moved into the compound and began the training and the protocols, their size and strength increased with rapid gains measureable almost daily. Most astonishingly, perhaps, was the measurable growth in each man’s height. Over time, all recipients grew anywhere from 2 to 5 inches taller. The skeletal structure itself was affected by regular injections of P21, and bones lengthened and thickened throughout each man’s body. The principal area of bone growth appeared to be in the legs, but even the arm bones slightly lengthened. A 6’-0” man with a finger-to-finger reach of 6’-3” before injections was gradually able to reach a length of 5 inches in addition to his newly gained height. The lengthened arms, of course, gave the men a slightly ape-like appearance, with the tips of their fingers now brushing the patella of each kneecap. However, the men did not become ungainly as a result, seemed to grow at the same time in natural grace and motor coordination. Muscular density almost doubled, strength nearly quadrupled, subcutaneous fat tissue was nearly eliminated. Muscular separations, ripples, cuts, and deep tissue striations appeared where before, even on a beautifully developed physique, there had been nothing but smoothness. Muscles roiled and bloomed with magnificent grace. Even symmetry improved; it was as if the muscular system had developed an over-all critical eye as to the proper balance and sweep necessary for each man to remain at optimum performance levels. Even so, with the loss of subcutaneous fat, waist size was stunningly diminished. Within six months of starting injections, a formerly 200 pound muscular man with a standard 34” waistline would find himself sporting a mere 30” at his midsection, with his rectus abdominus muscles and lower obliques newly reknit into interlocking, striated layers of shapely support musculature, easily able to carry the newly burgeoning upper body mass. His bodyweight would shoot up at least 20 pounds, all of it lean muscle mass. Fast-twitch and slow-twitch muscles were affected alike: a man on P21 was not only able to lift almost impossibly heavy weights, but run like the wind. Motor-nerve coordination profoundly improved. Endurance was beyond imagining. Although the subjects’ diets were kept clean, this appeared to have little effect one way or the other. As long as the men were regularly fed full meals six times a day, and drank a quotidian 3 gallons of water, then diet itself was moot. However, to maintain the psychological fiction that diet was still “important”, food selections were limited to lean meats, arrays of vegetables and proper complex carbs. The men held the “no veggies” diets of standard, “middle earth” bodybuilders in profound contempt. “If it’s green, it’s good,” was the mantra. With the six meals a day and the explosion of muscle growth, human waste products predictably doubled. The men seemed to require 30 minutes daily for proper excretion. Each man found himself pissing rivers of bright, clean urine. Happily, their digestion systems were as efficient as could be hoped for, and pleasure-filled howls filled the residence halls periodically as the men eagerly shat their meals. “A good shit is like great sex,” Obatu observed. Pissing was as pleasurable, for as powerful as their kidneys were, each man produced ropes of healthy white piss, like clockwork, 5 times a day. Their glowing prostate health allowed them to empty their bladders thoroughly with each resoundingly copious piss. A man on P21 would also exhibit astonishing skin health. Blemishes and scars faded to nothingness. The men’s complexions glowed as if powered by an inner laser. Hair health flourished, and though some of the men on the protocol preferred to shave their heads, it was not for a lack of healthy follicles. Even the bald Sergeant Schumacher, hairless as a wombat when he entered the program, was delighted to see his full head of hair restored within six months. Later, however, in response to other psychological effects, he chose to shave it off daily. Normal pain thresholds decreased proportionately. Sleep cycles were not affected. Over time, any already-accomplished athlete’s natural talents were likely to be exponentially sharpened. Newly recorded performance benchmarks surpassed any previous personal best. In short, the benefits were astounding - provided the recipient was initially genetically gifted to begin with, and had already achieved a certain performance level. Once P21 had been introduced into the system, after 3 years of weekly injections, Zaftig had discovered the protocol must be carefully monitored, and in some cases, stopped for periods of time. Not everyone developed at the same rate. Once the protocol was stopped, the successful manifesting effects enjoyed by the recipient to date would not be lost, but any continuing development would slow and finally stall. However, to avoid trauma, the project’s subjects weren’t informed of this, and several of the older men had been receiving intermittent placebos for years, in order to avoid a state of psychological withdrawal. More seriously, and although Zaftig was not yet certain of the veracity of his latest finding, he was keen to observe with a continued injection schedule, that the men’s aging processes seemed to stop entirely. This is the most sensitive of all the information he gathered, and the top-secret introduction of placebos disguised the anti-aging effects for the older men in the project. It was critical that this be kept a closely guarded secret. Was part of P21’s astonishing potential the end of natural aging? Zaftig was at war with himself on this point. As a scientist, he was elated. As a sympathetic human being, he was appalled. No one but he and the deeply trusted Dr. Irving were aware of indications that P21 was The Fountain of Youth. And just as P21 seemed to promise unending anti-aging, not all of the other developmental effects could be anticipated. Nor were they, in fact, terribly convenient. Its extraordinary properties included some rather startling, not to say unexpected, priapic side effects, which had first manifested themselves in the first guinea pig lab rat Sergeant Moster, nearly 15 years before. Since then, as new men successfully entered the project, different results were recorded for different recipients. All the same, universally P21 provided something like miraculous growth and enhancement for all who responded to it. Even now, in 2021, Zaftig could only guess how it might manifest itself in different subjects. Zaftig didn’t really want to deal with the complexity of the multiple sexual side effects. For there were surprising sexual benefits as well. After all, a physically evolving male always experiences a coinciding change in sexual stats and activity. What he had not anticipated was the dramatic extent of these changes. Zaftig discovered it not long after he first tried it out on Moster in 2007. The most observable immediate change was the startling increase in genital size. At the outset of his induction into the program, Rod Moster’s penis was already unusually large, looming forth when erect at a majestic 8 inches. While impressive on most men, all the same for a muscleman of Moster’s size and development, in appearance, it came off as merely average. All that changed once Moster entered the program. Six months after beginning the P21 protocol, even when flaccid, Moster’s penis measured just over 10 inches. When erect, it approached 16 inches. Midnight black, cobra-thick, and lightly laced with a cross section of interlocking capillaries shooting off from two pulsing central shaft veins, it had become a dangerous, dazzlingly beautiful machine. In fact, Moster’s penis had become a weapon. While he was delighted with his newly gargantuan cock, it presented him no end of trouble. For one thing, there was simply no hiding it in his clothing. His dress slacks uniform trousers had been custom-fitted to accommodate his massive quads, glutes, hamstrings and calves. Now, unless he wore specially designed rubber mesh briefs under his slacks that firmly restrained him, his slack member lay lazily on his quads, with muffled slapping against his thighs as he walked. The flies of all his clothing had to be forged from blue steel, and even so, were doubly reinforced to prevent bursting from the strain. Standard bodybuilding posing trunks were all but impossible if he wanted to remain covered; his cock and balls simply didn’t fit in any pouch. Most of the time, Moster chose to wear ultra-baggy sweats, with the sweatshirt hanging down to his thighs to cover the always-looming member. Otherwise, it was all just too distracting. Over time, Dr. Zaftig discovered that for all enrollees into the program, the size of the subject’s genitalia similarly grew to outlandishly large proportions. A man with average endowment was soon delighted to note that his organ, when flaccid, enlarged half again in length, girth, and stamina. A man considered ‘well hung’ at the outset would enjoy even greater growth. But that wasn’t all. Moster quickly realized a greater sexual appetite to match his newly achieved girth. Soon after injections began, normal societal behavioral blockers that prevent many men from acting on their fantasies all but vanished. Deeply buried sexual fantasies began to seem not merely attainable, but regularly actionable. Over time, the sexual activity of the subject became an all-pervasive cycle of, at first, increasing need, accompanied by a single-minded determination to fulfill the fantasy. Moreover, it was apparent that the recipients of P21 responded with particularly heightened sexual energy and passion to other recipients of the enzyme. So-called heterosexuality was no longer an issue: choice was abandoned. The men needed close supervision to keep their sexual activity confined to the proper hours, settings, and duration. And it took some doing to keep the men in line. Of course, any partner was possible for the men. As long as their muscles were the source of longing, they were eager to spread their copious seed in any number of ways, among any number of partners. Fortunately, a psychological fail-safe was built into the men’s newly ripening sexual psyches. The men were at their most vulnerable when presenting their muscularity to outsiders. Always able to leap into swift action, whether fighting, flexing, posing, Zaftig discovered after some carefully administered lab control tests that if the men were confronted with levels of apparent sexual unresponsiveness from observers, their sexual impulses were notably dampened. While their overall athletic, training, and bodybuilding prowess was never diminished, the translation of muscle energy into unfettered sexual energy did not occur unless observers explicitly expressed longing. In other words, the men needed to be sexually worshipped, gawked at, touched, stroked, admired and longed for in order to become aroused. They needed to flex their powerful biceps and rotate their mountainous quads for the stunned and appreciative. It was slightly ironic, therefore, that these astonishing physical specimens of undeniable Alpha males were, actually, subservient to the atmosphere of admiration. Indifference seemed to cow the men into silence and confusion – all except Sergeant Moster, of course, whose internal sexual battery was always on full charge levels. Fortunately, for the orderly continuation of Project Herculaneum, Sergeant Moster was aware of what he called “the Kryptonite effect” on his men. He could douse their sexual energy easily with a disparaging glance or an offhand comment. The small army of resident support staff, facilities associates, cafeteria and maintenance personnel, and office and lab workers were duly advised not to show any sexual interest in the men on any level. Zaftig himself was never troubled by the issue. Proud of his men, he nevertheless seemed to regard them as his “boys”, growing adolescent sons, in whom he had nothing but the purest parental love, devoid of any sexuality. Moster was more than well qualified to handle that job. Zaftig took a step back, promising himself that “some day” he’d approve a comprehensive study on P21 and sex. Over time, the psychological benefits had proved addictive. In other words, P21 was crack cocaine for bodybuilders. Any man receiving regular injections of P21 had to be handled with extreme care and caution, which necessitated a largely cloistered lifestyle. They were simply not ready for general public release. Nor was the public ready for them. To be continued.....
  5. Previous chapters: "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - Inside Zaftig's Lab: The Musclemen Revealed "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable appetite to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his ever-growing need to receive equal doses of both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. Chapter 9: Good for Morale, Continued Oral was hardly uncommon in the compound. In fact, Moster encouraged it. And Zaftig was fascinated by the men’s hunger for it, though he never took part. Not long after starting a P21 protocol, each man had developed insatiable an insatiable need to suck and be sucked. Cocksucking was therefore more than just a healthy release for the men: it was now mandatory. And though none of them would acknowledge themselves to be 100% gay, part of their acceptance into the program relied on each man’s private original tendencies towards pansexuality, boosted as they were by the behavioral blockers of P21. Over the years, each of the bodybuilders in Project Herculaneum had at one time or another sucked every other bodybuilder’s cock to full release many dozens of times. Often it happened in the showers after training, but sometimes it was after meals, as well. And as all were superlatively endowed with astonishing penises of uncommon weight, size, length, beauty and girth, no one was disappointed. Even Abdul Karim took part, much to the surprise of everyone. Though he never talked about it, even appearing bored, the more observant men noted a gleam in his eye each time he bent to service Gunst. Oral was against the rules on rest days. By the time training days came around again, the musclemen were already laughing, slapping each other on the backs during meals, and smacking their lips in anticipation. Fucking was another matter. All the men had been vaccinated against the virulent STDs that had long ravaged the world, and were now immune to any infection, their antibodies remorselessly attacking any invader. Butt fucking was an art. The soldiers were all equipped with powerful machines, all endowed with superb glutes, and all highly in touch with the pure waves of pleasure broadcast by their sensitive prostates. Good muscle butt fucking was serious stuff. As all the men were huge, heavy, and powerfully strong, it was like heavy lifting crossed with pure animal pleasure: one bull fucking another bull. Vigorously. Group fucks of spirited, high-energy muscle daisy chains were a once-a-month event, seriously organized and generally preserved on video for the records. Wearing full black leather masks in order to remain as anonymous as possible, and with deep black satin robes covering their individually distinctive bodies, the men gathered in the dimmed mess hall and connected their dicks to the next asshole in a line-up deliberately arranged by Moster. Muscle worship was not part of the evening. The point was prostate manipulation and bonding. Still, private fucking was not discouraged. A few of the men had distinct preferences for one another as fuck buddy, even as the cocksucking was group-wide and free-for-all. Of course, Schumacher had been fucking them all for years – except for Karim, of course. Apart from the daisy-chain sessions, no one dared to even approach Killer Karim from the rear - if he valued his teeth, that is. But so far, as far as he knew, no one man in particular had privately fucked Joe Tiffany – apart from the scheduled group daisy-chain fucks, where Moster was careful to make sure that the connections varied from session to session. Schumacher had fucked him just once in a group session, although as always as always he was masked and gowned. He could see through Tiffany’s mask that his eyes were rolling back in his head in pleasure, and Schumacher wasn’t sure Tiffany knew who he was. He knew it was Joe Tiffany’s muscular rear he was fucking, however, sliding up and down his supercharged big cock. That butt was pure, beautiful gold, a magically shaped combination of soft skin and raw, ripped power that was mind-boggling in its balance and tireless in its energy. Tiffany had taken charge of the fucking, as he gave it to the taller muscleman in the chain ahead of him, powerfully blasting forward into the glutes ahead of him, and, in perfect timing, also pumping his animal butt up and down on Schumacher’s cock with furiously blind energy. For his part, Tiffany knew full well whose cock had impaled his perfect butt that night. He didn’t share this information. From that night, he had a plan. Another plan, that is. In reality, all of the men were deeply aware of whose butts they were servicing, and who was manfully plugging his own from behind. The men had spent too many hours together in the rec room, on the workout floor, in classes and in the showers, not to be able to instantly recognize and distinguish each of his buddies. The wearing of the robes was nothing but a farce, but still they conceded, secretly further aroused by the spectacle of the volumes of black fabric draped with alluring mystery over each man’s rippling physique. Still, from that night on, Joe Tiffany knew that Herman Schumacher was just the man to regularly plow his supple, needy, bodybuilder-cupcakes behind. All he had to do was train him just a little bit over the following few months to ensure that he was captive, obedient, and would always be on call whenever Tiffany was of a mind to be mindlessly fucked. In the mean time, at night in his quarters his oversized dildo was getting the workout he bought it to do during one of his rare trips to town. He would energetically shove it deep into his butthole, rear his head back, close his eyes, and dream of Schumacher’s likely powerful thrusts. And, as Moster always said to Dr. Zaftig, who wasn’t entirely comfortable with the ritual behind the group fucks, “They need more sex than ordinary men. A lot more sex. Their metabolisms demand it. Besides – “ And Zaftig would say with him, in unison, “It’s good for morale.” Waring was screaming in Gunst’s face. Steve Waring “Come on, asshole! What’s the matter, pansy ass? Can’t you do it? You’ve only done 12 so far, butthead. What’s the problem, 200 pounds too heavy for you to curl, baby boy?” Gunst’s face was screwed into a mask of lip-curling, teeth-crunching pain as he vainly tried to complete the 13th rep. His biceps were exploding. The veins in his neck stood out like steel cables. His face bloomed deep crimson. He screamed. He couldn’t do it. He strained and squeezed and tried again, and his arms froze mid-rep, unmoving, the biceps bulging with 23 inches of shattering power. Suddenly he threw the weight to the floor, where it crashed resoundingly, echoing throughout the compound. Waring jumped back a little to avoid getting hit by the bar. The other men never stopped work, nor did they look up. Moster strode over to them. “What’s the problem here, Private Gunst?” “I – I couldn’t do it, sir,” said Gunst, backing away and mopping his face with his huge hand. Ashamed, he lowered his head. Fountains of his sweat splashed onto the floor. Moster turned to Waring. “What set was he on?” “Sir, he had completed five sets of 15 reps each, sir.” “Successfully?” “Yes, sir.” Gunst glanced nervously down at Sergeant Moster’s twitching palm. Moster hadn’t punished anyone yet tonight for slacking, and he knew it was about time he’d want to show his authority over the men. He needn’t have worried. Moster smiled kindly. “That’s actually pretty damn good, Private Gunst,” said Sergeant Moster. “Waring, take care of this man, and then let’s see him try again.” “Yes, sir,” said Waring. The young bodybuilder quickly got to his knees, lifted Gunst’s pulsing cock out of his barely restraining jockstrap, brought it tenderly up to his lips, and began to suck it deeply. Gunst closed his eyes and reared his head back thankfully. Immediately his cock was at full erection, throbbing and pulsing in Waring’s mouth. On white cap nights, cocksucking was permitted on the workout floor only if approved by Moster. “Use your lips, Private,” directed Moster, “the way we’ve discussed. You know the way Private Gunst likes it.” Waring nodded eagerly and mouthed the young man’s giant throbbing organ. “Pump your hips, Gunst.” Gunst began manfully plowing Waring’s good-looking, All-American face. “Harder.” Gunst pumped harder, and the satisfying sucking sounds grew louder, adding to the din. Waring thoroughly licked the cock up and down its full length, and rubbed it against the two-day old beard stubble of his cheeks. “Scratchy,” moaned Gunst with pleasure, his eyes closed. He plunged in again. Tiffany nudged his darkly handsome training partner Private Lang, who was just finishing a set of pull-downs. “Check ‘em out,” he murmured, winking and pointing. Lang turned and smiled broadly at the dreamily cocksucking Waring. “Waring always was a good cocksucker,” he said, just a shade too loudly. “You have a problem, Private Lang?” Moster’s voice boomed through the room. Tiffany ducked his head towards the pull down machine. Lang went white. “No, sir,” he stammered. “I think you do. Get over here.” Here it comes, chuckled Gunst to himself, watching the intimidated Lang stumble forward meekly as Waring, below, hungrily sucked his throbbing big cock. “Go get your punishment, man,” whispered a grinning, sweating Corporal Lefevre, punching the shame-faced Lang on the shoulder as he passed. Alvarez watched expressionlessly. “Take it like a man,” he murmured Alvarez as Lang passed him. He flashed a hard look at Tiffany. He knew what he was doing, getting Lang on the hot seat. He’d pay. Later. The hot seat. Indeed. 5’-11”, 280-pound Lang, streamlined with ripped, striated muscle and dripping with sweat, approached Moster and stood at rigid attention before him. He saluted. Sighing, acting as though he were resigned to the inevitable task of discipline before him, the giant Sergeant Moster sat heavily on one of the benches. By now the men were all looking away in a mix of nervousness, embarrassment, eagerness and excitement. Lang stood motionless, staring straight ahead in perfect attention, dreading the humiliation about to befall him. “Was something funny, Lang?” “No, sir.” “You don’t find Private Waring funny?” Lang glanced nervously at Waring, who greedily sucked cock. “No, sir.” “What are the rules, Private?” “We are respectful of the need for regular oral stimulation, sir.” “And why are we?” “It’s good for morale, sir.” “Was your comment good for morale, Lang?” Lang was ashamed. “No, sir.” “No. Let’s get to it, Private.” “Yes, sir.” Lang relaxed his attention, gulped, and quickly slipped out of his sopping t-shirt. He squeezed large droplets of sweat out on the marley surface of the gym floor and tossed it resignedly in the growing puddle. Standing before Moster a little pathetically, he was a muscle giant about to be chastised by an even larger muscle giant. Silently, submissively, he bent over Sergeant Moster’s powerful quads and lay prone on his lap. Moster, his fingers twitching, raised his palm. He paused a moment. “How long has it been, Private?” “Since when, sir?” Through Moster’s sweatsuit Lang could feel the man’s enormous penis, relaxed across the top of the sergeant’s right thigh, press against his abs. “Since I had to discipline you in front of the men, Private?” “About two months, sir.” Moster glanced down appraisingly at the beautiful, trembling glutes that lay gleaming over his knee. He paused, his hand held aloft, inspecting with internal approval. “You were training legs tonight, weren’t you, Private?” he asked. The suspense was killing Lang. “Yes, sir, I was, sir.” “Squatting deep?” “Yes, sir.” “Keeping good form?” “I think so, sir.” “Good, Private. This will supplement your workout tonight. Heat helps muscles grow.” With calloused, powerful palms, his thick fingers spread wide for maximum sting, Sergeant Moster sharply spanked the muscleman’s rocky glutes with carefully applied, deeply resonant butt smacks. Lang twisted and turned on his lap. After a few sharp spanks he cried out. “Sir, it stings, sir!” Tears spouted from his eyes. “Goddamn right it stings.” Moster turned to Gunst, watching from a few feet away with wide eyes, his large cock sliding deeply in and out of Waring’s mouth. “Fuck face, Private,” he commanded. “Yes sir!” shouted Gunst. He placed his hands on the back of Waring’s head and pumped his hips rhythmically as Waring, his mouth full of cock, moaned with deep satisfaction. The rest of the squad was watching. Moster could see all were now getting visibly excited. Their jocks were starting to bulge fearsomely, and two or three massive penis heads had popped out of their restraining pouches. “Get back to work!” Moster commanded, and without hesitation, the men turned back to their weights and began to lift again with renewed zeal. Gunst’s huge body shuddered, and a river of thick cum began spurting out of Waring’s mouth and down his chin. “UUUUNNNNNGGGGHHHHH!” he roared. Waring was moaning deeply as the desperately swallowed the pint of semen pouring down his throat. By the time he was finished shooting his load, Moster was steadily applying the 25th blow to Lang’s shiny red, twitching musclebutt. Moster issued his next order. “See that you finish that set properly, Gunst, or you’re next on the hot seat.” “Yes, sir!” he shouted, stuffing his dripping, still hard cock back into his stained jock as best he could as Waring, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, scrambled to his feet. “Spot me,” Gunst said to Waring, and, grabbing the weight, he peeled off 15 perfect-form, agonizingly correct curls. Waring, doing his best to ignore both his own achingly enlarged cock and the yet looming bulge in Gunst’s jockstrap, and with the splotches of cum still dripping down his face, spotted him with as much concentration as he could muster. “1! 2! 3!” Waring counted the reps, filled with admiration as Gunst’s mountainous biceps exploded with power. As Waring shouted the count, Moster applied another heavy smack for each rep to the quivering, deeply scarlet, muscular bottom of Private Lang, who, over his knees, groaned deeply with a blend of humiliation, excitement and pain. As he spanked, Moster called out loudly to the men. “Attention! Men!” “7! 8! 9! 10!” Spank! The man snapped into attention from wherever they stood around the workout floor. “Tonight you will be meeting our newest recruit in Project Herculaneum.” Spank! Spank! “From this evening on, we will now be known as The Twenty.” Spank! Spank! Spank! The men stood at rigid attention. “Yes, sir!” they shouted. “And remember, men,” said Moster, grinning down at handsome Private Lang stretched over his knees, who had tears in his eyes and whose face was almost – but not quite – as beet red as the handprints on his perfect butt, “being spanked by me is a badge of honor. Never be ashamed when I call you forward to the hot seat have your butts whipped. I do not pay such honorific attentions to anyone outside the squad.” Spank! Spank! “18! 19! 20! 21!” “Yes, sir!” Spank! Spank! Tiffany grinned. He had often spotted the quiet, shy, legendary young muscle giant Casey Rockland in the mess, and heard all about his fearsome physique. He was looking forward to meeting him. He paid no attention to the unwavering, hostile gaze of Corporal Alvarez. Corporal Schumacher strode over to him. He glanced over at Alvarez threateningly, who immediately shifted his gaze and went back to work. “You better watch it. You don’t want to piss off that guy,” he muttered to Tiffany. “Who the fuck cares?” shrugged Tiffany. Thirty feet across the room, Moster continued to apply his stern, masterful spanking to Lang’s squirming, rock-hard musclebutt. Lang’s face was now contorted in an ongoing blissful combination of pain and pleasure, his mouth forming a smiling O….. “…oooooooooo….” Alvarez was watching closely from the corner. Even at more than 40 feet, Tiffany could see the Alvarez’s jock was now poling straight out from his body, strained to the bursting point. “I can’t always cover your ass when you misbehave. These men are my buddies. You’re still new here.” Tiffany smiled cockily. His fresh young musculature glowed with youth and health. He knew that since the last daisy chain that his sunny handsomeness and bad boy intentions had become irresistible to the old horndog Schumacher. It was all going beautifully. “I can take care of myself,” he said. He gestured with his thumb to the blank-faced, completely erect Alvarez, who was by now busy with his next set of deep squats. “Besides, he looks like he doesn’t mind.” The mute Private Meyer was now gleefully bent over before Alvarez, holding his ankles and laughing silently, dancing and twitching that magical butt of his just a few feet in front of the man’s protruding jockstrap. Alvarez had to grin. Then he turned back to the squat bar. “See?” Schumacher grunted. “Yeah, I know you can take care of yourself.” Schumacher moved in close and breathed into Tiffany’s face. “ I want to see you later on.” “You do, hunh?” “Yeah, I do, hunh. After the detail meets Casey Rockland, you come to my quarters. Tonight. That’s an order.” “Finish up, men!” commanded Moster, still spanking the twitching Lang’s bright-red glutes. Spank! “Ouch!” Lang cried. “You’re not my CO.” Tiffany lifted a bar off a squat rack and began doing slow military presses. He smiled indifferently at Schumacher and said no more. Schumacher grunted angrily and moved to the cable rack, where he finished off his chest workout with a final set of intense cable flyes. He now had Corporal Herman Schumacher wrapped around his little finger, and he knew it. He wrapped up his set of presses, now purposefully ignoring him, and grabbed his towel. He wiped himself off and smiled beatifically across at Moster. Moster, never pausing in his discipline of Lang, was amused. He winked at Tiffany. He knew he’d get the Private’s butt to himself – in time – but he generously allowed that Schumacher would get to it first. And that was part of his plan. Casey Rockland was the other part. The workout was finally over. “To the showers, men,” Moster called out. The men collected their workout bags and empty water jugs, and filed eagerly off the floor, clambering over one another like puppies, heading towards their no-holds barred shower room games. Even the normally disgruntled Karim had a special light in his eyes. He was looking forward to Gunst’s piss. As they raced out, Moster looked down at Lang, still stretched pitiably over his knee. “How many was that, Private?” he asked calmly. “59, sir.” “Good. I assume you enjoyed it?” “Yes, sir,” he said with meek truthfulness. “Actually, I loved it.” “Then here’s one more for good luck.” He raised his black hand and applied the last, 60th searing red-hot butt smack. WHACK! “Ow! That was good, sir!” Lang scrambled to his feet, saluted, and tenderly rubbing the scarlet handprints on his delectable bodybuilder butt. “May I join the others now?” “Off with you.” “Thank you, sir!” Lang scooped up his discarded clothes and plastic bottle with one hand, flinging his gear over his broad shoulders, standing still for a moment pouring what was left of the cool water over his shoulder onto his stinging glutes. He grinned at Moster. "Thank you again, sir, for the discipline. My butt needed it." Moster waved him off. Then, kneading his iron-hard, hand-print reddened butt cheeks with the fingers of both hands, the handsome private scampered happily, if somewhat bow-leggedly, away to join his sweaty, horny muscle buddies in the locker room. Chapter 10: The Showers Inside, they had already slipped out of their drenched t-shirts, boots and jockstraps, slipped on striped flipflops, and had headed quickly to the showers, and down to extreme business. Lang was eager to rejoin the men. After all, there was just enough time for one more round of group cocksucking, butt fucking, and stress-reducing water sports before they all had to gather in the lab upstairs to meet the new recruit. Naked in the steamy group shower, he found his way to his muscle buddy Alvarez. He fell to his knees as Alvarez turned, strode forward to meet him, flexed his mammoth biceps, and shoved his meaty erect cock into Lang’s gratefully receiving mouth. Behind Lang, Private Gunst thoughtfully soothed his stinging, reddened glutes with a powerful jet stream coating of clear, clean piss. His mouth full of cock, Lang nodded gratefully up at Gunst, who returned his nod with a “Hey, it’s okay.” Lang arched his butt to receive the coating of piss all the better. He glanced over at Schumacher, who was now violently plowing Tiffany’s wide-open mouth with his own swollen firehose man meat. Schumacher hadn’t said a word. He had walked directly up to Tiffany, who swiftly went to his knees and carefully guided his lips over the shaft of the Corporal’s 11-inch penis. Schumacher was facefucking him as mercilessly as he could manage, but the young Private seemed serenely in control. As usual, he never gagged. Which made Corporal Herman Schumacher plow harder and deeper. Which prompted a satisfied smile on Tiffany’s calm, appreciative lips as he sucked with cool detachment the muscle daddy Schumacher’s violently throat-pounding large cock. After Gunst finished painting Lang’s glutes with thoughtfully applied streams of hot piss, he turned to Waring, fondled the handsome young muscleman’s leathery testicles, got down on his knees and allowed him to glide his own achingly engorged member down his eager throat. “MMMMmmmmm, it’s good!” he moaned, satisfied. “Even big boys like to suck cock,” he winked up at Waring. He smacked his lips. “If it’s big enough.” “Is mine big enough?” asked Waring as he rubbed his scalp in the streaming hot shower. “Yup,” answered Gunst, dipping in for another full-throated suck. “Sure is.” All the other musclemen were similarly at work, soaping up, sucking cock, washing armpits, lathering crotches, laughing, shouting, grunting, flexing their muscles, getting their oversized cocks sucked, or with their faces buried deeply in their buddies’ spectacular glutes. In the center of the shower, Corporal Alvarez and Private Lang were going through “Pose and Approve.” Alvarez was gliding through his finest posing routine, while below him and kneeling on the tile floor Lang licked and sucked his huge, stiff cock with hungry appreciation. “Front double bi’s,” said Alvarez. “Pow.” Meyer was dead center in the large shower room, standing on one hand on the tile floor, holding his powerful body aloft, his legs spread wide, one fist supporting his full bodyweight. He arched his butt high and smiled happily as, through the steam and roar of the water, one after another of his training buddies bent over and applied luscious, deep licks into his succulent butthole. He grinned, pumping his stiff cock with his free hand as they licked, kissed, and smacked his firm buttcheeks. Jin and Washington were now each chewing ferociously on Bogarde’s perfect, brown nipples. He roared with pleasure, and pumped himself into a mighty front lat spread. Straps of pec muscle bloomed powerfully. He turned from side to side, proudly thrusting forward each pec. His buddies chewed, licked and bit. Meanwhile, the handsome Blankenship, who had a preference for big black cock, was fiercely lathering up Washington’s enormous pole. He covered it waves of soapsuds, pumping it up and down as it rose to full girth. He glanced up at Washington, now biting Bogarde’s nipples. “Yeah, you got one big black motherfucker muscle cock!” he shouted. “You like big black cock?” roared Washington, waggling it in Blankenship’s face. “Love it!” he shouted, and washing the soap off, took it all in his mouth. “Watch him suck my cock!” Washington whooped. Obatu, soaping his armpits, laughed. He strode over to the group. “Room for another brother?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, shoved his meat into Blankenship’s face. Blankenship smiled rapturously, and as Obatu continued to soap up, he took his cock into his mouth as well. “Most muscular,” said Obatu. “Pow. Check out dis crab.” Black veins exploded. His fists pumped together. He pushed his hips forward. His cock surged straight ahead. The two black cocks plunged in and out of Blankenship’s mouth, his tongue tracing over their shiny thick veins. The enormous Washington, the biggest man of the group of five, put his arms around Bogarde’s and Obatu’s shoulders, while on the tile beneath them Blankenship moved from cock to swaying cock, from Washington to Bogarde to Jin to Obatu and back to Washington again. Surrounded by the bodybuilders’ cocks, Blankenship sucked each erect penis deeply. He gazed at the network of veins that criss-crossed the hip muscles of each of his buddies. Their huge cocks were like jewels set in the finest of settings: lean, fat-free muscles. When he got to the handsome Asian Private Jin, he marveled once again about how a Chink could have such a huge dick. He sucked it lovingly as the other men stood closely above him, their cocks looming in his face, dripping with water and pre-cum, awaiting their turn. When he finished with Jin, he moved on to Bogarde, whose nipples were being avidly chewed with care above him by Jin and Washington. Bogarde’s cock was, of course, in great need of immediate service. No problem. It was, after all, a world of huge, looming bodybuilder cocks. And Blankenship’s favorite sport – after bodybuilding – was cocksucking Next to him knelt the dimwit Hension, his handsome face now buried deeply into the posing Corporal Alvarez’s glutes. Lang was now on his feet and posing with him, as the dark Arab Corporal Karim, behind him, licked and kissed his mighty ass as well. He caught Hension’s eyes, and, in unison, the two men buried their faces into the posing partners’ glutes. “Hey, careful, there,” said Lang. His butt still stung, and Moster’s handprints were still glowing bright red on his taut asscheeks. “Sorry, man,” said Karim. He gently licked the red hand welts, and could taste Gunst’s piss. He knew the man’s special sweet taste. Gunst had often pissed deeply into his mouth. Chad and LeFevre, soaping up themselves, moved over to Hension, whose beautiful face was deeply buried in Alvarez’s butt. “Hey, McIntyre,” called Chad, “get over here and take over for Hension!” “Don’t bother me,” said Hension. “Sure thing,” answered McIntyre, licking Meyer’s butthole. “Be there in a sec!” “What are you doing, guys?” asked Hension plaintively as Chad and LeFevre lifted him bodily from Alvarez’s glutes, carrying him into a corner of the shower. Alvarez stopped posing for a minute and looked back at them. “Hey, where you taking him?” he asked. Lang looked up. “To the rescue,” said McIntyre, now on his knees and pressing his face into Alvarez’s butt. “Oh, okay.” Alvarez turned back to Lang and continued posing. Karim had never stopped licking Lang’s ass. Chad and LeFevre were now sharing Hension’s pretty tool. “Figure you have it coming,” said LeFevre,” licking away the last remnants of the chili powder. “You guys,” said Hension, and began to wash his hair as the men cleaned his cock with their tongues and lips. Moster leaned in at the shower door. “Good work tonight, men.” He turned and headed toward the locker room door. “Thank you, sir!” the men shouted after him. Moster called back to them as he left the locker room. “No fucking tonight. No time.” “Shit!” Moans of general disappointment. “Sorry. Expect you all upstairs in the lab in 10 minutes.” “Yes, sir!” Once again, in unison. On the workout floor, alone and silent as always, the meek Dr. Irving slipped back into the room and to shut down the lights for the night. From the locker room, he could hear the splashing of the showers and the groans, moans, roars, whoops and shouts of the satisfied men as they each let loose volleys of thick, spurting cum high into the steaming air, arcing and splashing onto each other’s superbly muscled bodies. Thick cascades of semen plopped onto the tile and began flowing slowly past the men’s browned feet towards the shower’s drains. Irving walked over to the garbage pail. He glanced inside. Yep. There they were. He could see them in the half-light. He reached in amidst the wet rags of paper and extracted 18 empty aluminum capsule wrappers. Moster had probably ordered the enhancements from Zaftig particularly for tonight’s workout. He knew that by now each bodybuilder probably had already cum three or four times. By 2150 hours, they would all, to a man, be drained. Except, of course, for Sergeant Moster. He picked up the receiver of the staff phone on the wall, and pushed a button. “Facilities,” he requested. In the distance now, the men were all roaring as one. No doubt they were all spurting in unison by now. Pints and quarts of cum. “Facilities? Yeah. Irving. Right. Better put the plumber on notice. The shower drains in the main workout locker room will be clogged again tonight. They need to be cleared by 1800 hours tomorrow.” He hung up without bothering to listen to the response, turned, and walked out of the room. In the showers, the roaring was dying down to satisfied explosions of breath and more laughs, whoops and hollers. The water was turned off, and locker doors began to open. The room grew quiet as the men dressed, all thoughtful now. All thinking about the new recruit they were about to meet. Casey Rockland. In the showers, thick rivulets of cum dripped from the ceiling, walls, spigots and faucet handles, clogging the drains. It cost Zaftig thousands each month to simply to maintain the system’s burgeoning septic tanks. “It’s just one more thing I didn’t really plan for,” he would sigh to Moster, who would nod, straight-faced. "It's always something," Moster would reply, absently scratching his bulge.
  6. "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey Chapter 6: Casey Is Discovered The day that Casey Rockland first set foot inside a gym, he was a shy, tongue-tied, lonely, oversized 12-year old. He stood, frightened and abashed, at the front desk of Raw Weight. He had walked around the block for an hour before he found the courage to walk through the dark-glass swinging doors. Miles stood behind the desk. “Yes, son?” he asked after a moment. God, this kid has potential, he thought. Gosh, he’s handsome, Casey thought. He gawked at the huge, veiny arms that poured from the short sleeves of Miles’ sports shirt. The hugely rolling biceps made his dick twitch a little. From the moment Casey first laid eyes on Miles Donovan, he thought he was the handsomest, smartest, most masculine, most muscular man he had ever met in his life. Just the sight of Miles’ hardcore physique, casually displayed in loose-fitting slacks and a navy blue sports shirt boasting the Raw Weight logo, made Casey’s well-hidden, oversized teenage member leap to attention. It was love at first sight. Which was not lost on Miles. “C-can I join?” Casey finally stammered out. “You want to train here?” “Yes, sir.” “How old are you, son?” “Twelve,” answered Casey honestly. Miles paused, and then asked kindly, “Where do you live?” “San Jose Boys’ Home.” Aha, thought Miles. His heart went out to the beautiful, over-sized, sad-faced kid. “Of course you can join. Ever trained before?” Casey’s heart leapt. “No, sir!” “How much can you pay?” “I can work for you, sir! I can clean the locker rooms, and the toilets, and take out the garbage, and paint the walls, and – “ If Miles had allowed it, a tear would have come into his eye. Besides, this kid had overwhelming genetic promise. He held up a hand. “No need for all that. Of course you can train here. We’ll discuss money some other time. Let’s get you started. Do you have workout clothes?” “N-no, sir.” “Well, let’s get you fitted out. Come on along with me. Sid, take the desk,” Miles shot to the flirting young muscleboy trainer who was chatting up one of the wide-eyed fitness babes who trolled the workout floor, looking for available young muscle studs. “And try to keep your mind on your work.” Back to Casey. “What’s your name, son?” “Casey Rockland.” “Well, Casey Rockland, I think you might have found your new home. Let’s see what you got.” He moved out from behind the desk and approached Casey. Casey’s heart was still leaping. Miles Donovan was an astonishing man. Casey had never dreamed that such a huge, handsome, masculine, muscular man would ever take notice of him. Like an eager puppy, he fell into step behind Miles, who was leading him out onto the workout floor. There, dozens of men and women of various sizes, states, dress, and degrees of sweat were toiling away at nameless, complicated activities involving weights, machines, benches, bars, cables, racks, mats, balls, rings, and rope. One or two looked up curiously at Miles and the gawky big kid trotting behind him. William Obatu was one of those who looked up. Already in enrolled in Project Herculaneum, the handsome black African muscle monster Obatu was allowed to steal away from the compound to his home front of Raw Weight (with occasional forays to the 3rd floor, where he regularly held personal worship sessions). Obatu takes a selfie.... “Who’s that big kid?” he asked Miles one evening a few weeks later on the 3rd floor. He was working arms, doing slow concentration curls, generally ignoring the rich twinky boy on his knees before him, begging to worship the bulging cannonball biceps. “What kid?” asked Miles innocently, walking by. Obatu continued doing curls and feigned the same indifference that Miles was displaying. “You know. The big kid. Downstairs. He ever come up here to 3?” “Naw. Too young.” “Pleeeeeaazzze…..” begged the handsome kneeling twink on his knees, reaching up in hopes to get a quick fingertip brush of iron muscles. Obatu glanced down, a little impatiently, and reracked the weight. “Whtchu want?” he demanded, and slapped the kid’s face. Some ‘a’ this?” He flexed his biceps. The kid moaned gratefully. “Shut up, worm,” he commanded. Flexxxxxx… “Boom,” he said. “25 inches. Feel ‘em.” Back to Miles. “Saving him for yourself?” “Nope. Saving him for your boss. And your commanding officer. Is Tyrone any good?” Obatu was perplexed. “Who’s Tyrone?” He continued flexing, gazing admiringly at his peaks. Miles pointed down at the kid who now was both reaching in vain to touch the iron biceps while feverishly licking the heavy downward-pointing bulge in Obatu’s regulation tiny posers. Obatu shuddered with pleasure but covered. “These posers are too damn small.” “You must be used to it by now.” “You never get used to it.” “I repeat, is Tyrone any good?” “What do you care, I’m paying $5,000 a month to be up here,” mumbled Tyrone, his mouth now scooping up the thick black muscle cock that tumbled from Obatu’s straining posers. Obatu glanced up. “Trust fund kid,” Miles explained. “Oh.” He looked back down again and flexed his biceps again, a little more respectfully. “Hope you’re enjoying yourself.” Tyrone moaned passionately and sucked vigorously. After a moment, Miles spoke. “Looks like fun. Mind if I join you?” “Oh, if you’re gonna make a party of it, be my guest,” said Obatu, stepping aside. Miles, still dressed, stepped in and unzipped his pants. His big cock poured out. In an instant Tyrone had both bodybuilders’ cocks in his mouth. “Flex for him. He likes it,” said Obatu. Miles flexed his powerful silver daddy 23-inch biceps. A slight tearing sound was heard. “Damn. Another shirt.” He decided to take it out on Tyrone. He plucked the cock from his mouth and slapped his handsome smooth young cheeks vigorously with the now hard-as-steel shaft. “Nice move,” said Obatu. “Let me try that. Hey, asswipe. Over here.” And he smacked Tyrone’s face with his black cock. Soon Tyrone’s head was whipping from side to side, his face buffeted by heavy cock blows. "Take us both, boy. One after the other," ordered Miles. Tyrone went into a frenzy, sucking Obatu's cock, then twisting his head and sucking Miles' cock, back and forth. "Yeah, good boy," said Miles. A few minutes later the musclemen both shot, coating Tyrone's face with heavy layers of thick, creamy cum. Tyrone moaned as thick spurt after thick spurt emerged from each man's pisshole, painting his face, covering him with cum. “That was fun,” said Obatu. “Yeah, let’s do it again some time,” said Miles, walking away. "Clean that up, boy," he ordered as he strode away, squatting slightly as a zipped up, putting his heavy cock away. Obatu resumed his workout, Miles went back to his office. Tyrone lay on a bench, ecstatically spent. Casey took to lifting weights immediately. He had a genius for developing his own start-up training program, and he poured over the muscle magazines he could find. During computer hours he browed the net for muscle information, training routines, and reading all about the muscle stars. He was going to be one, one day, himself. He was determined. Then they’d see. But, gosh, it was hard work. Lifting hurt. It was painful. It was slow. It took time. He was stunned at the beginning at just how much work it was. One afternoon after he'd been lifting only a few weeks, he was sitting dejected in the locker room. Alone. Miles, coming through with towels, saw him. He understood. He put the towels away, and came over and sat with him on the bench awhile. They were silent together a few minutes. "It hurts." Casey finally said. "Yes, it does." "And it's hard." "Yes, it is. Not everyone can do it." "I didn't know it would be this hard." Miles smiled, and put a paternal arm around Casey's shoulders, patting him with a giant paw. "If it were easy, everyone would be big. It is not magic. You can't take a pill and get bigger. People who think so are crazy and wrong. There's no growth serum. I repeat Casey, there's no magic. It doesn't exist. You can't eat a magic cookie, and just get huge. And people who think so are fools. And dreamers." "But I'm a dreamer....." Casey said sadly. "Yes, you are a dreamer, too, but you're not foolish. You know what work is. Hard work. It's growth with effort. Growth without effort doesn't exist. It's an empty dream, a useless fantasy. There are no super heroes, Casey. There's only hard work. Years and years and years of it. But I'll tell you a secret......" he leaned in. Casey looked up. "If you keep doing it? every day, you'll get a little closer to your dream." A light began to shine in Casey's eyes. A tear formed. He looked up at Donovan, now standing over him. "You mean that?" "I do. And Casey? You'll achieve your dream. If you keep working." He paused and stepped back, hitching his thumbs in his belt. "You had a good workout today. You're pushing the limits. But now you need to rest. G'wan back to the home and eat some chicken. Rest tomorrow. No, rest two days. Don't want to see you back here until Saturday." He smiled. "But on Saturday? I'll train with you. And we're gonna fucking murder those weights." Casey's face shone like the sun. He nodded, eagerly, unable to speak a moment. "Sure, Miles! I'll go back and eat chicken and sleep and see you Saturday!!" He got up and began packing his bag. "Work on those abs. You can do crunches tomorrow as long as you don't use weight," he said as he left the locker room. ****** As Casey trained at Raw Weight it was soon apparent that as he gained strength and grew, he needed more than three times as much food. Sister Anne in the kitchen, sympathetic to the big, sweet, dumb, exceptionally handsome kid, supplied him with the extra portions of meat whenever she could get away with it, unaware that the Home’s director, Sister Marietta, had deliberately turned a blind eye. She was even guilty of making sure there were plenty of steaks and chicken breasts on hand. Four years passed. Casey trained like a maniac. He would have been there every day, all day, but Miles forbad it, making him aware of the need for rest days. "Your body won't grow muscles unless you rest. You want to get big?" "Yes, sir! I want to be huge!" "Then you stay away 3 days a week. Eat a lot of protein. Do your ab exercises every night. But no weights. You wanna grow and get big you gotta give your body a rest." Casey, deeply in love, filled with awe, was all the same a little frightened of Miles, and shied away from him for a long time. Miles, understanding the nature of hero worship, gave the handsome kid a wide berth, encouraging him in a business-like way as he made muscle gains. Sensing even more talent, after Casey had been at Raw Weights about 2 years, he introduced him one afternoon to Ramon Ramon, a stern, grizzled, totally ripped, if slightly punch drunk old Puerto Rican extreme cage fighter who always seemed to be at Miles’ gym, as if he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Soon Casey was taking boxing and kickboxing lessons from Ramon Ramon. He began running, jumping rope, lifting the huge truck tires in the corner of the 1st floor, and working out with a punching bag. Ramon was also into wrestling. He bought Casey his first singlet. For hours after Casey's workouts they grappled on Raw Weight’s stained old wrestling mats, bathed in sweat. Ramon was old and grey but had solidly ripped, strong muscles, and Casey loved the feel of the old iron warrior’s abs against his abs as rolled around together on the floor. When Ramon locked his legs around young Casey’s neck and squeezed, Casey always got what the boys in the home called ‘a boner.’ Big and hard, it poled up in the singlet and would have embarrassed him had Ramon not been so cool about it. “Big tool. Get you a bigger singlet next time. You need a scoche more room in the crotch.” Ramon’s legs were clamped onto 16-year old Casey’s 22-inch neck. He howled. He had never been happier. His erection pointed high to the ceiling. “Go ahead and take care of it,” said Ramon. “Be good for ya. Young guys gotta cum.” He let go of Casey’s left arm. Casey shouted and stroked with his freed hand and his cum shot to the ceiling and plopped onto his abs and the wrestling mat. He was never embarrassed around Ramon. “Think you got the biggest cock I ever did see,” said the old wrestler, his iron vice grip holding Casey in a headlock now. The cum continued to shoot. “It’s healthy. Like to see it.” And Casey groaned happily with pain as Ramon squeezed harder. They wrestled in a pool of cum, soon made even greater as Ramon shot all over his steely abs. “Thought I’d join you,” he said. "Be sure to clean that up before you hit the showers." "Yes, sir!" said Casey, happily spent. For two more years Casey followed a strict regimen of quiet hard-core muscle building. He grew and grew. Miles was taking notice. By the time he was 17, it was clear that he had extraordinary bodybuilding gifts. His dedication to lifting was unquestioned, his genetics nothing less than astonishing. One afternoon at the gym during one of his workouts, Miles Donovan glanced out of office window at the big, muscular young teen in the middle of the workout floor. Casey stood alone on the workout floor, his red t-shirt dripping with sweat. He was insanely propelling himself through a 5th set of unduly punishing biceps curls, curling 125 pounds. His face was crimson, his eyes bulged, his teeth were gritted like a madman, thick cords of veins pounded in his neck. His meaty young biceps were being punished into new growth levels. Miles watched the 16-year old boy through the window closely. “Guess it’s time,” he said to himself. He speed-dialed Dr. Anton Zaftig at Valhalla Labs on his mobile. It was time. He hardly knew nor cared what who Zaftig was, or what this “research” was about. All Donovan knew is that he was supposed to be on the lookout for ‘special’ muscle - from the young men who showed unusual potential, to the older, more weather-beaten gym rats who were so far past feeling any pain that all they could do was pack on more and more beef – as long as they were able to keep a balance with their abs, that is. And – as long as they had other talents as well, including square jaws, clean skin, clear eyes, and redoubtable priapic gifts. Zaftig had been quietly paying Donovan for years to spot potential talent. And the size and regularity of Zaftig’s checks were profoundly motivating. “Zaftig?” A mumbled affirmative. “There’s a kid who’s been training here a few years who I think you might want to check out….. No, he’s only 17, but he’s huge. Yes. Really huge. Yes, he’s good, very good, and I think he could be great. I’ve been watching him quite awhile now. Hmmm? Two years. No, three. Regularly. Yeah.” Donovan paced a little and glanced out his window to the gym floor. Casey was putting himself through his 6th set of curls. 15 reps per set. Now at 160 lbs. “Weight? He’s 220. At age 17. Yes, really. 220. Height? Get this: he’s 6’4”. And I don’t think he’s done growing. Yes, superb symmetry. What?" He sighed at Zaftig's question. "Yeah, he's hung, too. Biggest goddam tool I ever saw." Another mumbled question. "What? Okay. I’ll call you back. Ten minutes.” He hung up. He got up from his chair and walked out onto the floor up to the muscleboy. “Awesome. Awesome young muscle. Congratulations,” he said breezily. Casey was in heaven. “Gee thanks, Mr. Donovan!” he said. Casey was always excited when the handsome muscleman praised him. “Let’s see those guns,” said Miles. Casey was only too happy to comply, eagerly flexing his powerful young biceps. Miles stroked them appreciatively, and then casually flexed his own right arm. Casey stared. “Wow,” he breathed. He reached forward to touch it. “Go ahead,” said Miles. “Stroke it.” As Casey approached respectfully and softly ran his fingers over Miles’ thick biceps, the older man glanced down. And was startled. The bulge in Casey’s gym shorts was poled out about a foot from his hips. He didn’t seem to notice, transfixed as he was stroking Miles’ biceps. Miles flexed a few more times for him, and with great self-control, walked away. He called Zaftig back. “Yeah, he gets hard when he touches muscles. Okay. No, I don’t think he does drink. Or smoke. One thing, though. I don’t think he’s the brightest light in the billboard. Does it matter? No? Okay. Yes. I will. I’ll keep you posted.” It was that afternoon that Donovan smilingly informed Casey that his membership to Raw Weight would be free of charge for the foreseeable future. He clapped him breezily on his powerful young shoulders, and was slightly astonished at the hardness of the muscle beneath his palm. For his part, Casey was overjoyed. He didn’t stop to examine why such good fortune might have his way, and what might be expected of him in exchange in the future. He continued to pump enthusiastically, and pack on the muscle. The kid’s not bad, thought Donovan, watching Casey joyfully burn through a grueling set of 20 reps of 400-pound deadlifts. ******* Just a few days later that Casey Rockland finally decided to do something about the gang who had been pummeling him in the dorm shower room for years. Already it was taking more and more of the boys in the gang to hold him down during his beatings, which were growing far less frequent as he got bigger and bigger. One day they stopped completely, but the boy’s hostility still festered in the air. Casey was getting ready for payback. Ramon had showed him how, too. “You got a fearsome punch, kid,” he said one afternoon, flat on his back in the ring where Casey had just knocked him, his eye blackened. “Lead with the left. You got it.” One night after lights out, a few of the boys circled his bed. He looked up at them, bleary-eyed and half asleep. “What?” he asked. “Pull his shorts down!“ “You do it! It’s gay!” “I wanna see!” came a pipsqueak voice. Casey felt a dozen hands pin him down in the half-light, and his shorts were yanked to his knees. His adolescent penis, tumescent in the steamy night, was exposed. He was humiliated. And mad. “Goddamn!” one boy yelled. “It’s huge!” “It’s like a monster!” “Hey, Banana Man!” “See, I told ya!” “He’s a freak!” “Casey the Freak!” the boys chanted, and began to pummel him. Casey curled into a ball on his mattress, gritted his teeth, and took it tearfully. “Next time,” he said himself as the boys rained his body with their weak punches. "Next time, they get it." On what turned out to be his last day in the San Jose Boys’ Home, a gang of 18 biggest boys circled him during morning showers, laughing and pointing at his monster penis for the last time. "Okay," he said. "You turds have laughed at me for the last time. He swung a fist, very deliberately, and caught the ringleader square on the jaw. A tooth flew out and the boy hit the wall of the shower. Methodically Casey began to punch his way through the crowd of now-terrified boys. He was surprised at how easy it was. When the steam cleared, all 18 lay on the ground with an array of blackened eyes, broken noses, fractured jaws, and missing teeth. Casey sported a huge shiner himself. It was worth it. That afternoon 5 ambulances pulled up to the front gates and took the boys away for bandaging in the San Juan ER. Four boys were required to stay overnight for observation. Sister Marietta called him into her office to reprimand him. As she always did with the bad boys, she bent him over her lap and spanked his firm young butt with a ruler. She broke three of them before she finally gave up, perplexed at how hard the young man’s behind had become. Afterwards, rubbing his stinging bottom, Casey ran back to his room and cried. No one loves me, he cried. That night he ran away forever from the San Jose Boy’s Home. He went to the gym, and still sniffling, emptied out his locker. Donovan watched him from the window in his office as Casey, in tears tucked his favorite do-rag in his back jeans pocket and slumped out into the night. Casey figured he had to leave town, although he had no idea where exactly he was going to go. Miles picked up his mobile phone. He figured the time had come. A hour later, Dr. Zaftig found Casey sitting alone and dejectedly in the San Jose bus station. Dr. Zoloft was in transit from the city to the lab facility in the countryside outside town when Donovan had called him hurriedly. He did a fast detour in his minivan, walked swiftly into the bus station, and took a good look at the huge kid bursting out of his t-shirt, sitting alone on a bench in the corner. He knew right away he had another promising specimen for Project Herculaneum. Miles Donovan was never wrong. Zaftig walked unhesitatingly up to Casey and introduced himself. He talked about a bright, golden future for the young bodybuilder. Innocent Casey stared at him uncomprehendingly for a few minutes. Then he smiled through his tears. In the end, he went with the doctor with the funny name. He never questioned anything. He was just grateful. Casey moved into the cadet facility at the base of the mountain leading up to the main compound that night. The next morning, Dr. Irving appeared in Sister Marietta’s office and signed for his release. He flashed some government identification for her, muttered some Federal mumbo jumbo, announced that Valhalla Labs had invested in Casey’s training for four years, and petitioned the court for the right to take Casey into custody. Sister Marietta held up her hand to cut him off, offering no objections. “Take him. He’s too big for us now. We can’t afford to feed him anymore, and the other boys are now terrified of him. Besides, four of his classmates are still in the hospital. It would be best for all if he left.” As she signed the papers offered by Dr. Irving, she added, “But please take good care of him. Casey is a sweet and simple young man. He needs love.” No other paperwork seemed necessary, and though it was far from being anything like a formal adoption, it was enough for the Good Sister. She was relieved to see the boy go – he now always seemed to be hungry, and she had been forced to replace Sister Anne in the kitchen because the boy’s appetite was breaking the food budget. She was glad he could go somewhere where, hopefully, he would get his required 6 square meals a day. Beyond that, she wouldn’t worry. Casey had always been a good boy – well, until the day before. She knew he’d make the right decisions for himself. Or not. Once in the program, Zaftig fast-tracked Casey’s growth. Under Zaftig’s watchful eye and the encouragement of the cadet trainers, he worked harder than anyone he had yet encountered. And the food? He couldn’t believe it – six full meals a day! Two days a week he was required to remain near his quarters and relax. The other five days of the week were taken up with schooling, enhanced nutrition, supervised meditation, running drills, bicycling, swimming, gymnastics practice, small arms training, and nightly injections of Protein 21b, Zaftig’s laboratory serum developed under the most rigorous of testing. Within two months, he was a full cadet in the program, and in less than 2 years he was approaching the threshold of muscular perfection. Most of the time for those years, he was alone with Zaftig, Dr. Irving, his trainers, and some of the Project cadets. He had been restrained from meeting the other 19 men, who trained and socialized on their own in the main building of the facility. He didn’t notice it just at first, but during the next two years he couldn’t help but wonder at the increasing volume of his emissions. He had no inkling that Protein 21b might be causing his sperm production to gradually increase exponentially. Still, during the two years he came to understand that there might be some link between the clear liquid in the daily injections and the increasingly generous volume of semen that spurted out of his cock nightly. He was also amazed that his cock itself appeared to be getting even bigger. He had always been hugely hung, but – this was crazy. At first it required little more than a washrag to clean up after himself, but in time, larger and larger bath towels were required to mop up the flow after cumming. His sheets were badly always badly stained in the morning, and – strangely – every night he found they had been replaced by crisp, new sheets. He never knew who might be doing this for him, and over time his initial embarrassment about his sticky sheets faded away into the generally dark, accumulating volume of unanswered questions. After he passed his high school graduation equivalency exams, Zaftig decided he was ready to take it to the next level. It was time to formally present the boy to the 19. Casey was 18 years old and in the best condition of his young life to date. Still, he was lonely. At night he lay alone in his little room, gazed out the window at the moon and the stars, and beat his humongous meat off fiercely. He dreamed of being the biggest, strongest man in the world. Everyone would love him. And he would protect everyone. It was the sweetest dream in the world, and it was always enough to charge him to a satisfying climax. Then he’d roll over and fall into a deep sleep, hopeful for better days.
  7. "Je vous laisse, mon ami!" "WHAT!, after everything we have we went through together Pierre? I don’t understand what you want me to do. I was going to propose to you at Christmas. You are going to just give up on us without a second thought? I don’t even care that you slept with Gustav, you mean so much to me." “Winston, I just can’t get past the fact that you look…..uhhhh so…..small. I want to be with a partner that can not only make me happy on the inside, but also looks great on the outside.” “I do workout Pierre, you know this. You used to complement me so much on my athletic physique. What happened?” “Gustav est passé mon ami. He fulfills my insatiable desire for muscle. If you were just……uhhhh…..how do you say……bigger, I would be much more satisfied.” Winston continues to look at Pierre dumbfounded and wonders why he would be thinking this way since they seemed to be so happy. Before he can get another word out though, Pierre waves goodbye to him and turns around to get into his car. The stunned thinner young man stands in silence as his eyes well up with tears. They stream down his face as he watches his former lover drive down the road and beyond the mountain outside the city in the distance. To take Pierre off his mind, he walks a few thousand feet down the sidewalk before he stumbles upon a park that is located just on the edge of the city. He enters the passageway and notices an impressively built water fountain about a quarter mile ahead from where he is standing and walks towards it. Halfway there, he can hear several clanging sounds as the sky rains with piles of shiny gold coins. When he leans down to examine some of them, several pelt him in the head and knock him down unconscious. He awakens several minutes later and realizes that the entire path to the water fountain is made of these coins. He hears a voice in the background and wonders if it is his imagination. He speaks loudly. “Hello? Who are you?” There is no answer. He takes a few more steps and notices that some of the coins are loose on the ground and can be picked up. After examining a handful of them, one of them glows a bright green color which immediately catches his eye. He grins as he drops the rest of them and continues to stare at it. The voice returns again which makes him snap out of his trance. “What the? WHO ARE YOU!?” The voice laughs before saying, “Lad, I think you know what you are supposed to do with that lucky coin, am I right?” He looks at it again and then walks the rest of the path to stand directly in front of the fountain. He closes his eyes before flipping it up into the air. As he does this, time slows to a crawl as he watches in amazement when the coin hits the water at half the speed. The splash is so intense that it forms a tidal wave and lands directly on top of him. He yells in fright as it drowns him before draining into the ground. As he comes to again, he looks up and sees a rainbow appear from just over the mountain as it ends directly in front of the fountain just a few feet away from him. A strange looking machine follows it down as it stops at the bottom. A small muscular man dressed in a green outfit with a black belt and a color coordinated hat jumps down and immediately walks over to punch him in the right leg. “OW! What the fuck man? Damn, you are a strong little man. And kind of…..” The small man stops him before he can get another thought out. “Don’t say it mate, I know what you are thinking. You think I am attractive because I have these muscles.” *he points to his biceps and flexes them as they stretch the fabric on his jacket* “Now, I want you to come with me back to my home world Winston so we can get this moving along.” Winston looks thoroughly confused and has no idea what he is talking about as he looks down at him. “Huh? What? I don’t know what you are talking about little man? What did I do?” The little man punches him in the crotch and shakes his head in disbelief as he stands there with his hands on his hips. “Lad, why do you have to be so naïve. You made a wish when you threw that coin into this here fountain behind me. I am here to help you fulfill that wish, but you have to come with me to complete a quest in order for it to come true.” Winston looks on in a stupor as the little man physically picks him and slams him onto the machine he rode on. He gets in on the other side of it as it begins to move. The shocked human has trouble getting any words out as he attempts to comprehend how a man that probably weighs about 50 pounds could carry a guy that is three times his body weight without any resistance whatsoever. “Shhh…..don’t even say anything mate. Let me introduce myself, I am Padraig, leader of the Emerald guild. In case you haven’t noticed, we be muscled LOL.” *he flexes again as the machine moves up the rainbow towards the mountain* “But seriously Winston, you said in your mind as you threw that coin that you wished to become the man that Pierre wanted you to be. This is your chance to show him that you indeed can and will.” Once they get to the other side of the rainbow and over the mountain, Padraig and Winston get off the machine and start walking towards the village located just to their right. The surprised human stops for a few seconds as the little man turns to look up at him. He puts his big right hand on his forehead and sighs before he speaks again. “Winston, I know that this is all a bit of a shock to you, but there is only a small amount of time to complete your quest. Before you begin however, I want you to meet your guide through your adventure.” As they walk through the village, another little muscular man approaches them and stops just far enough away to where he catches the eye of the much taller human. Paddy stops him in his tracks and stands next to Winston before he starts to smile knowing what he must be thinking. He then walks over to the other little man and puts his hand on his beefy shoulder. “Aye there Ioan, glad you could come and participate in the quest that has been selected for you. This here is Winston, he made a wish in the fountain on Earth and is now here to fulfill his destiny.” The remarkably good-looking small man looks up at him and makes a few gestures like he wants Winston to pick him up. When the surprised human attempts to do so, he figures out that the man is a lot heavier than he looks. After a few more failed attempts, Paddy intervenes and leads them both over to a table so they can talk briefly. “Ioan will be with you through this quest Winston. Actually, he will be a part of the quest as well. His fate will be in your hands as a result of a set of questions that will be asked as you make your way through the tundra that is just beyond the gates of this village.” Paddy points in the direction of the tundra and leans over the table to whisper something into Ioan’s ear. The little man looks a tad bit concerned as he turns to look up at Winston and then looks at Padraig again. The elder muscleman gives him a look that suggests that he must go through with whatever he told him or else there will be consequences. After about twenty seconds, Ioan gets up from the table and walks towards the gates before opening them and disappearing into the landscape. Winston is a bit confused as to what just occurred and wonders what this will entail. “I don’t understand what this man has to do with me, but for some reason I feel like I have some connection to him. Is this partly because of the quest that I have to complete with him?” Paddy smiles before he gets up from the table and motions for Winston to do the same. He then leads the human over to the gates and walks through them. They stop after a few hundred feet of entering the tundra before the little man stops. He turns to look up at Winston once more. “Okay lad, this is where I must leave you so you can fulfill your destiny. The tundra will be jarring at first, but once you reach the crossroads, you will know what to do next.” A large sack appears in front of Winston which surprises him. “Take that with you laddy, it has enough supplies in it to sustain you for however long you are here. I wish you luck and I will see you soon.” The little muscleman turns to walk back through the gates as they close behind him and he vanishes. After pausing for a few seconds after picking up the velvet bag, Winston immediately starts walking again across the barren wasteland. The cooler temperatures make him stop after trekking for a few minutes as he opens the bag up and pulls out a heavy coat from within. He briefly wonders how this could be inside of it but figures that it is some kind of magic and continues to walk ahead. For what seems like hours, Winston eventually reaches the area that Padraig spoke of. A huge cave appears from out of nowhere which briefly concerns him. He goes inside and manages to find enough kindling in his bag to make a fire. He then makes a bed out of some fabric and goes to sleep for the night as the sun disappears behind the mountain that is just above the village in the distance. When he awakens the next morning, he is greeted by the small man he saw leave from back in the village. He is not wearing a top as his hairy muscular chest is just inches away from Winston’s face. The muscular man’s deep masculine voice stuns the much taller human as he sits up. “Good morning sir, I wondered if you might find this place. I am supposed to ask you a question which has two possible answers. Whichever answer you choose will decide what happens next.” He helps Winston up from the ground so he can look up at him as he talks. The man’s nicely groomed reddish brown beard and green eyes are not what he was expecting to see when he woke up for the day, but is pleasantly surprised. They take a few steps outside the cave and turn back around to look at it. Ioan proceeds to ask Winston the question. “Which one of your parents do you miss the most Winston? This question must be answered truthfully or your quest will end here.” Winston is stunned by the question right off the bat and puts his arms above his head. He had no idea that this would even come up and immediately looks down at Ioan. “WHAT!? What kind of question is that? What does this have to do with my wish at the fountain? Did Padraig tell you to ask me this question?” Ioan puts his hand out as Winston takes his hands off his head to hold the little man’s. He looks up at the human and has a relatively neutral look on his face. “This is just part of the process Winston and I am sorry. I was summoned to be your guide and I have been put in charge of the questions that have to be asked. This actually does pertain to your wish indirectly and is meant to help you cope with what happened to you in the past.” After a moment of self-reflection, it dawns on Winston that he is going to be asked three questions that will pertain to his past, what is happening in the present, and what may or may not happen in the future to him. He grips Ioan’s hand as hard as the little man is now gripping his. “I…..I can’t go back Ioan. They both meant so much to me. I mean…..why?” Ioan walks forward, still holding Winston’s hand, and pulls him further into the cave with him. After taking about fifty steps down into the dark corridor, it changes into two emergency room doors. They stop just a few feet in front of them as Ioan looks up to talk to Winston again. “This is where you must answer the question Winston. Your parents are both here. Talk to them face-to-face one last time. This will help you move on since this has been lurking in your mind for a great deal of time. I will wait in the lobby for when you return so that we can move on to the next question. You will be fine mate, I promise.” Ioan lets go of Winston’s hand as they enter into the waiting area of the hospital. The little hairy muscleman stands there as numerous medical personnel move around him not noticing either one of them are even there. The scared taller young man tries not to lose his composure as he takes a deep breath and walks down the hospital corridor towards one of the recovery rooms on the right. He stops walking when he glances inside one of the rooms and sees both his father and mother lying in beds side by side hooked up to machines. He slowly enters the room and walks between them to turn back and forth to look at them with heavy eyes. He can’t get any words out as he gets on his knees beside his mother to hold her hand and lightly weep. She moves her hand as she turns to look at him. “Winston…..I am so glad that you made it here. Ronnie and I didn’t know if you would get here in time or not…..I can’t seem to remember much…..I just wanted to let you know how much I love you and that I will always be in your heart. I also wanted to tell you that I am fine with who you are so don’t worry about it anymore, okay?” Winston tries to keep from crying but can’t hold back the tears that are welling up. They stream down his face as his mother begins to struggle with her breathing. Before he can say anything to her, she loses consciousness and flat lines. His father Ronnie starts to grunt behind him as he tries to get up to see if his wife is okay or not. Multiple nurses come flooding into the room as they try to restrain him as others try to revive her. Winston’s dad is finally put in restraints as the incredibly muscular middle-aged man winces feeling his body hurting from the catastrophic injuries he sustained in the car accident. The extremely sad young man quickly moves over to the other side of his father’s bed where there is no medical personnel and grasps his dad’s bloodied hand. He is amazed that he never noticed how powerful his dad was before as he looks at all the huge veins cascade from his forearms all the way up his arms and directly into his father’s head. Ronnie looks over at his son and is very distraught. He squeezes Winston’s hand tightly as he pulls him in to hug him. The stunned young man bawls as his dad holds him against his chest. After a few seconds, he lets go of Winston and the sad young man gets down on his knees again to talk to his father. Ronnie tenses his muscles a few times since the pain is so excruciating and looks at his son’s eyes before he speaks. “Look at you Win, you have really grown up since I last saw you. It seems like yesterday that you were just barely walking…..actually it has been that long hasn’t it?” Ronnie pauses for a few moments before he reaches over to grab Winston’s arm to squeeze it. “I am a bit surprised though that you haven’t started growing muscles like your old man here. I want you to be big and strong so you can handle things in case you need to protect yourself or possibly the love of your life perhaps.” He tenses his chest and arms again to show Winston that he stayed in shape all the way up to the accident. He then smiles at him before he speaks again. “I may not have ever heard that you were gay son, but just know that I am okay with it. I’m not sure how your mother would feel about it, but I love you more than you will ever know.” He puts his arms out again to embrace his son and pulls him in to hold him one last time. The power radiating from him dissipates as Winston feels his dad fading away as the machines beep before he flat lines as well. The nurses that were trying to revive his mother move over to Ronnie and begin doing CPR on him as they push Winston out of the way. The young man falls onto the ground and yells in agony as he witnesses both of his parents die in front of him. After a few seconds he feels a small hand move up against his shoulder. He looks up and sees that it is Ioan who joins him on the floor to comfort him. “I didn’t say it would be easy mate, but you were here to see them one last time. I know it hurts a lot, but this will help you heal. *gets up and reaches his hand out to pull Winston up off the ground* Come on, it is time to move on to the next question. We will have to leave this place first though.” Winston stops sobbing and leaves the room only to turn back around to look in at them one last time. Ioan grasps his hand and starts pulling him away towards the front of the ER lobby. They walk through the doors as it vanishes behind them. The young man turns and is stunned by what just happened. Ioan takes him back to where he was staying at in the cave and has him sit down. “Rest for a few minutes Winston and eat something. This was a difficult situation I know. Think on it if you need to and I will return to go to the next question.” Winston spends a few minutes sitting there before he gets up to find Ioan standing just outside the cave. The little muscleman is quite surprised that he is already there. “Wow, are you sure you want to move on so quickly. This next question is going to be a bit tough as well. Why do you think your boyfriend left you? This question must be answered with a truthful answer or your quest ends here.” Winston thinks that he knows the answer to this question but before he says a word, Ioan shakes his head no. “Hold on Winston. I don’t think that you were told the whole story from Pierre. It is time to go back into the cave again and find out what the answer is okay?” The two men walk back in and proceed down the cave corridor again. They stop moving forward when a balcony appears in front of them with a beautiful lake in the background. There are numerous boats on the lake and it appears that there is some party going on. Winston seems a bit confused by the whole scenario before he hears Pierre’s voice off to the side. It sounds like he is moaning quite loudly and is having sex with someone. He then hears multiple voices and rushes onto the balcony before going into a side door into what he thinks is a beach house. Ioan stands outside and looks on as Winston finds Pierre sandwiched between three heavily muscled men. His ex-boyfriend is being fucked by one of them as the two others take turns fucking his mouth with their huge rods. None of them are Gustav though since Winston would recognize him immediately. His blood pressure rises as he confronts his ex. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS PIERRE!? You told me you were with Gustav, why would you lie to me?” Pierre immediately shoves the guy that is inside him off and jumps to his feet. He is completely soaked in sweat as he tries to compose himself. The three muscle monsters begin to move towards Winston, but Pierre tells them to stop. “Oh mon gawd mon ami! What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you to show up so soon after we broke up. Gustav? Uhhh…..well I was going to go see him after taking a few days off, you know? *seems really confused* Uhhhh, how did you find this place? I don’t think we ever came here when we were dating did we?” The three musclemen move down to the lake and find an open area to lie on the ground. Pierre notices that they are going there without him as he tries to move past Winston. The angry American grabs his French lover on the arm and grips it tightly. “I want answers Pierre, what are you doing with these guys? Were you doing this shit when we were together?” The athletic Frenchman pauses for a few seconds and sighs. “Winston, I have needs. I need to satisfy these needs by going all in with it. Originally, it was just one, but it has grown quite a bit since then and now I have three awesome sluts that make me feel alive. *pulls Winston’s hand off his arm* Maintenant, si vous pouvez me excuser mon ami, I need to go join my friends so we can finish what we started when you got here.” The nude Frenchman rushes out the side door and down to the lakeshore as the three huge hulks begin to mess around with each other again. Winston walks out slowly and looks over the balcony as he watches his ex-boyfriend get ravaged by each one of them as he yells in ecstasy feeling his body getting thrashed by each one of them. Ioan climbs up onto the bannister of the balcony and sits beside where Winston has decided to wait for him. The irritated human looks over and shakes his head. “How the hell did I not know about this Ioan? This isn’t the guy I knew. He never once let on that he was into this kind of thing.” Ioan reaches over and pats him on the back. “Mate, these kinds of things happen more than you realize. What he is doing with those men right now is a fantasy for quite a few muscle lovers. Of course, not every man is as reckless as he is.” The little man points down at the orgy as Pierre yells in French as one of the men pumps him full of cum. The two others pump their cocks as the Frenchman licks the precum off both of them. They both grunt as they shoot two massive rivers of cum all over his face and chest. He takes turns gobbling down the huge poles as they continue to spurt into his mouth. His appetite for their muscular bodies is so great that he makes himself cum without ever touching his cock. The volcano splashes all over his chest and legs as one of the men grabs a hold of his rod and grips it tightly. When he lets go, his cock continues to shoot huge ropes all over himself. At this point, Winston is quite disgusted and gets down off the bannister and turns to leave. Ioan follows behind as they walk back through the cave as the beach house disappears behind them. The young man sits down again and puts his head in his hands. Ioan stands above him to speak. “That was supposed to be tough mate. This was meant to show you that he is not who you thought he was.” “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Our last conversation was about me being muscular. He said I wasn’t his type. Do you know if he is really dating Gustav or not?” Ioan grins and shakes his head yes. Winston is stunned that he is actually with him and wonders if he should ever tell him about Pierre’s secret. The little man doesn’t offer much of an answer to that thought. “When you are ready Winston, we can move on to the last question.” The story will conclude next week. Check out a previous installment in this series: Rainbow: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/2429-the-little-man-and-the-rainbow/
  8. Ragnar12231

    Packmates part 5

    Part 1: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3688-packmates-werewolf-muscle-growth-part-1/ Part 2: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3689-packmates-part-2/ Part 3: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3691-packmates-part-3/ Part 4: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/4032-packmates-part-4/ At 3 o'clock the next morning I still hadn't gotten to sleep. Snow, Bruak, Ragnar and Logan were all laying with me but they'd managed to nod off. I couldn't shake what had happened out of my head, I was in a war. Suddenly there was a knock on the door before it was opened and closed loudly. Ragnar didn't wake but Snow and I did so we went to investigate. "Help us please!" cried a croaky African voice as we got to the main hallway and found two men stumbling down it. One was bleeding all over the place and the over was dragging him. Immediately I rushed over and began to help him, using the healing magic Miranda had taught me as Snow dashed off to find her. The wound was very deep, he'd almost been cut in half and he was losing a lot of blood. I ripped off my shirt and began to wrap the wound I then instructed everyone who had gathered to do the same. I was hoping to staunch the bleeding and buy the guy some time whilst we waited for Miranda. He was breathing but very weakly and I didn't know if he would make it. "Please, you have to save him... I-I don't want-" "It'll be okay" I assured. "Out of the way Layton, I'll take it from here!" cried Miramda as she sprinted down the corridor holding some kind of crystal in here hand. I immediately backed away and allowed her to approach just as Asad appeared. "Winston! Arthur?" he called as he broke through the circle of on-lookers. The uninjured man immediately grabbed him in a hug and began to shake slightly. "It'll be okay Winston" he said softly as tears began to brim in his eyes as he saw Arthur's wounds. An hour later I was sitting in the kitchen making tea for Asad and Winston - who had finally stopped crying. I couldn't think of anything to say, from what little we got from Winston we found out that their entire werelion Pack had been killed, the Mutts had managed to blow up their car just as they were leaving the airport. The only reason Winston and Arty had managed to escape was because they'd been shoved out of the way by their Alpha. We still didn't know how Arty had been injured because Winston had been too upset to say. We sat in silence for awhile before Ragnar eventually came. He hugged us all tightly and took Asad away, leaving me with Winston. I managed to convince him to get some sleep, so I took him to the American's section and spent the night with him and two men called Chad and Chuck who had offered us their bed. There was a very somber mood the next morning, after our run we found out that Arthur had survived the night, but there had been no word from the werelions and they were presumed to be dead. We went about our business as usual, training and eating but when the evening came everyone's spirits were so low that we barely ate. Seeing how down everyone was Ragnar got us all to get changed into something comfy and return to the main hall. When we got there there were sofas and comfortable seats for everyone, blankets, food and a warm fire. "We've all been pretty shaken by the news of the loss of our brethren. I want us all to be together at this time, to comfort each other and prepare for what is to come" said Ragnar as he walked towards us. We all moved into the hall and began to fill up the space, we shared seats with each other, lay down together and began to talk. Everyone let out their anxieties and their grief, our thoughts of what might happen and what we hoped we would achieve. After and hour or so there was a knock at the door and Arthur entered the room. He was in a wheelchair and Miranda was pushing him, he didn't seem to be in any pain but his wound still hadn't completely healed. A green salve had been rubbed all over it and was now drying, it smelled pretty awful but no-one cared as we all gathered around him to greet him, Winston had immediately ran over and had kissed him before taking control of the wheelchair from Miranda. Ragnar then led the two of them over to where he was sitting and gave them space besides him "I'm glad you're okay Arty" he said softly as he put his hand on his shoulder and kissed him on the head. Arty just nodded, he hadn't said a word since the accident but Miranda had said it was just due to the shock of almost being cut in half. That night I don't know if I ever saw Asad. After losing his Pack he had become reclusive and kept to himself, Winston and Arty handled the news better because they had each other but we still didn't know what we were going to do with the last three werelions in existence... That night as I lie awake, surrounded by my slumbering pack I decided to do something useful with my sleeplessness. I used my short ranged teleport spell to hop between the sleeping wolves towards the exit and then through the door. I didn't hear anyone stir so I assumed I'd gotten away unnoticed. I went to the library - which had thankfully remained at a normal size - so that I could study. I found a book about werewolf anatomy and began to read, perched in the cushioned window alcove with a warm fur blanket wrapped around myself. I was studying werewolves as I wanted to know exactly what I was becoming. As I neared the end of the book I heard footsteps approaching. My childish instincts kicked in and I turned off my reading light and pulled the curtains over the window before teleporting to the small space behind one of the armchairs. I didn't feel scared, in fact I felt excited as I caught a glimpse of feet. I hadn't been noticed yet and the urge to leap out at the visitor was becoming stronger. They approached a bookshelf near me and scanned one of the rows before plucking a book out and promptly leaving. I knew it had come from the advanced magic section so I was curious as to who else had decided to stay up for a late night study session. I followed them silently along the corridors, using what I'd learned from living with Ragnar to sneak around. They turned into one of the living rooms in the American wing. Knowing that it'd be empty I decided to go into the room next to it as I could hear voices as they entered. Pressing my ear against the wall and attempting to use some of my werewolf characteristics that I had obtained from my first bite I listened in to their conversation. "He doesn't know yet, only the circle do. The ritual should go off without a hitch but he might not like the results and if he does then we're going to have to deal with an angry Demi-God whenever something bad happens" said one of the voices. I quickly processed what they were talking about and realised that it was me. "Well I'd prefer it if Hircine just took over. Layton's just weak" spat one of them. "Hmmph of all the people Ragnar has to choose from it makes you wonder why he chose him, a light breeze'd probably push him over and we're meant to bend over and submit to him in the middle of a war? We need strong leaders not some stuck up Oxford brat who probably can't even lift a sword." muttered another. "Well he's still human... If he were to accidentally fall... No maybe that's going too far" said a more familiar voice. I didn't listen to anymore, I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes and I didn't want to risk getting caught so I put the glass down and crept into the hallway. I cast a muffling spell and then ran along it to the grove. I knew it wouldn't be cold as it had been enchanted to stay humid in order for the exotic plants within to survive. I walked over to the padded arbor and curled up in it. I'd never been able to handle people talking about me behind my back, it made me so angry. I could feel tears streaming down my face, hot from my burning rage. It was then I realised that I was sweating too, my body getting incredibly hot all of a sudden. Then alI I could feel was a searing pain all over my body. I saw a figure enter the grove but before I could cry out I blacked out from the pain. Buck In the morning I was feeling unexpectedly refreshed. The feeling of sleeping amongst everyone had made me feel at home. However when Ragnar's pile of men began to stir there was a sudden tension "Where's Layton?" called Ragnar as we all looked around. When there was no response we all jumped into action to find him. I followed Logan as I knew he'd be one of the first to find Layton. He crowded around a large stone door with Fenrir and Ragnar who then opened it. We all stepped inside and I was amazed to see a garden full of beautiful fauna and standing in one of the white arbors was a shimmering blue woman and a slumbering man. When the woman saw us enter she smiled and nodded at Ragnar before disappearing in a swirl of leaves. Ragnar and the rest of us then immediately paced over to the man. I didn't recognise him at first He was at least seven foot and about as broad as the arbor he lay in, a day old beard had grown around his chiseled jaw and his jogging bottoms had torn and fallen off him. "Layton?" questioned Ragnar as the figure opened his eyes "what happened?" "I-I don't know," he mumbled as he curled up against the arbor and seemed to realise that he was much bigger than before "what happened to me?" "I don't know right now, c'mon lets get you inside" Ragnar said soothingly as he helped Layton to stand. His trousers barely held on to his waist and everyone could see that he had clearly grown in all aspects. However it was hard to find his godly muscles attractive as he looked incredibly pale and sickly. Ragnar ordered everyone back inside and then Logan took all of us on the morning run. Though we took a shorter route as everyone wanted to get back as quickly as possible to make sure Layton was okay. Logan When we returned the Grove was locked and Bruak was guarding the steps to Ragnar's room. When I approached he stepped in front of the stairs, blocking them out completely with his enormous green bulk. "Sorry, no interruptions. Ragnar's orders" "Is he okay?" I asked, still moving towards him. Bruak put his hand on my shoulder, his thick digits were about the site of a baby's arm. "He's going to be alright, now run along before I make you" he teased as he grinned down at me from behind his enormous muscular gut and bed-sized pecs. Growling I walked off, not wanting to seem intimidated, for if I wanted to get past him badly enough I knew he wouldn't stop me. Though it'd certainly be hard. "See you tonight then I suppose, I hope Snow share's his food" I taunted, grinning back at him. "Heh, I've hope you've tasted Orc before. Wouldn't want to break you little guy" he replied. "I'll get him back for that later" I thought to myself as I walked back towards the main hall where Breakfast was being served. "Yo Fen" I cried as I swaggered towards him and the other Alpha's (who were overseeing the hall). I stood next to him but he still towered above me. "You know what's going on with Layton?" I questioned. "Keep your voice down dumbass, you'll find out later. Now sit down and eat" he growled. I went to take some food off of his plate but he grabbed my hand "don't even think about it" I went and sat with the British Pack members, I hadn't really met any of them but I was trying to work my way around the Pack and they knew Layton best so I could find out about him too. That night I walked back up to Bruak's watch post, this time he smiled and let me past. He slapped me on my ass as I passed, making me grin and get slightly aroused. When I got to Layton's room I was sporting a full on boner, luckily no-one inside paid any attention. "Logan, come here" ordered Ragnar from his seat next to Layton. I darted over and looked down at the bed, some colour had returned to Layton but it was hard to tell as there were hundreds of intricate silver tattoos all over him. "He's finally ready" said Ragnar as he stroked Layton's head. I couldn't hold back my smile, I didn't care about Layton becoming a Demi-God, he was becoming a werewolf and that's all I cared about. "When will we perform the ceremony?" I questioned, knowing it'd have to be soon. "At dawn, it should take all day" replied Ragnar. "Go and tell everyone to prepare. Their new Alpha is coming" Layton I woke up feeling heavy, I could barely lift my head and my body was numb almost as if it wasn't mine. "Layton?" I strained my head to the side and saw Ragnar looking down at me, smiling broadly. I attempted to move to hug him and found that I suddenly flung myself at him. Catching him off guard "W-what happened to me?" I asked, holding him tightly and resting against him. "It's okay, you just passed out. Your body started to adapt too, we think you might've gone through 'blood fever'. It's when a werewolf with only wolf blood experiences extreme pain via emotion or physical injury and so it's body adapts to defend against it" explained Ragnar. I understood what he had said and knew what he was about to ask "I wasn't hurt" I stated as he began to hug me back. "What, or who got you so riled up then?" he asked, Ragnar his voice dripping with concern so much that I almost didn't notice the anger. "Just... The usual crap. It doesn't -" "Cub, blood fever is dangerous. You need to tell me everything" replied Ragnar. I pulled away from him and nodded, before letting him know what had happened. "Well after the ritual you can deal with them how you please. Just know that I chose you because of your heart, your kindness. I don't care about anything else." he replied, kissing me and crawling into bed with me. "You're going to become a werewolf at Dawn..." I smiled nervously "Will I be okay?" "Well look at yourself, you'll be fine" I looked down and saw my godly body, it was covered in tattoos and patterns made out of some kind of salve. I recognised them from the book I had read last night. I felt more at ease and began to smile, I was finally going to be a true part of the Pack. The ceremony took place outside in the larger garden. I was lying on some kind of stone altar and everyone was kneeling around it, they all had similar tattoos on their chests (they were all naked) but no where near as many as me. Ragnar stood above me in his wolf form. "Brothers and Sisters of the Pack please join me in the blood pact for the coronation of our new Alpha and the conduit for Lord Hircine. Everyone began to speak some kind of pledge but it was in a different tongue that I couldn't recognise. Suddenly their tattoos began to glow and slowly so did mine. "Layton, do you accept our gift?" asked Ragnar. "I do" I replied as o gazed into his eyes. "Do you accept the responsibilities of being an Alpha?" "I do" "Will you join your spirit with Hircine?" "I will" I replied, not fully aware of what I was getting into. "Then as Alpha, I shall impart to you our gift" replied Ragnar as he leant down and kissed me on the forehead before taking a huge bite out of my chest, the tattoos that used to cover it remained however like a spectral skeleton. I cried out in pain but I didn't black out as Ragnar began to lick the wound. Miranda then stepped up and placed a large silver crystal on my chest. "Hircine, we offer you this man to use for your survival. As Alpha he shall be in charge and you will aid him in anyway you can" she called out as the sun crept over the altar. The moon was still high in the sky and I could feel it beacon to me. After a few minutes the stone began to grow and my body began to reform, the wound completely closing up and leaving a crescent scar. An hour later the stone stopped glowing and my body began to tingle as small dark silver hairs began to sprout all over my rapidly expanding body. When the sensation finally stopped Ragnar helped me off the altar and I looked down at the Pack, realising slowly that Ragnar and I were at least thirty feet tall. "All rise for your new Alpha" called out Ragnar. Our Pack immediately obeyed, I smiled at them all and heard Ragnar whisper "Roar" I felt something stir inside me and it forced upwards, I let out an ear splitting roar and eighty percent of our Pack immediately lay down and bowed. "Now the rest of you will fight him" said Ragnar grinning. He then turned to me and kissed me passionately before saying "You'll have to shrink back down though" I grinned at him and we slowly shrunk back down to a more suitable height for brawling. "Beat Layton and you'll become Alpha instead. Though if you lose he'll put you in your place" said Ragnar as he sat down on the stone altar. He then started pointing at the Pack members who were still standing one by one and ordering us to fight. I barely had to try to beat them until I was pitted against an Alpha. Angus and Alpha were the hardest to beat but they only required about half my actual strength. Logan on the other hand was a lot stronger than I thought. For such a small guy he certainly was strong, I almost thought I was going to lose to him as his epic biceps flared up around me as he attempted to tackle me. I held my ground however and soon I had him pinned. Snow and Bruak were just as hard, though Bruak's extra weight made him slightly harder. Though it made him so much more comfortable when I had him pinned to the floor. After two hours my only opponent was now Ragnar. He grinned at me and stood up "Now this fight is optional, it just determines who's dominant in our relationship" he explained. "Think you can beat me then?" I taunted, moving closer to him. "Oh I'm sure of it" he replied, stepping even closer and touching my arm. "Go for it" We began to wrestle and scrap with each other. He was stronger than I'd ever imagined, I was pushed to the limit trying to beat him. Though he was also baring his teeth and snarling a lot and soon it was getting to me. His overwhelming dominance, his masculine scent and powerful body was beginning to make me feel submissive. "I knew it Hircine, I've surpassed you" he whispered, as I felt myself give up. "Heh, now I get to really let loose on you, cub" Ragnar flirted as he bared down on me. The rest of the Pack were all submitting to Ragnar along with me. We both began to grow back to our maximum size, our sweaty bulging muscles rubbing against each other as I felt his now building-sized cock brush against my eager hole. As he entered me my senses heightened and I cried out in intense pleasure as he began to fuck me. Every thrust making the ground shake, his feet pushing themselves into the dirt. The other Pack members were all drunk with lust watching their godly Alpha's mate. After what seemed like I year I felt Ragnar release a lake of cum into me, it's warmth filling me up. I was shooting all over his chest and as he stood back up he licked it off his hand and watched as I used his cum to expand even more until I blocked out the sun from the entire Pack. "Now Layton, you get to fuck everybody else. Go wild" I now realised why the ritual would take all day. As the sun set I strutted over to Bruak. He immediately began to lick Snow's cum off my bulging pecs so I held his head against them and began grinding on his stomach. "Hope you're ready Bru, I could still go for another hour or two." I grunted as he tweaked my engorged nipple. The I slowly lifted him up until he hovered above my eight foot cock. As I impaled him he let out a war cry and began to clench my cock with his right ass, pumping it and getting me even more horned up. My cock swelled within him as he continued to lick my chest and armpits, burying his face in my hairy cleavage. When I was finally finished he was still cumming gallons. The rest of the Pack were either sleeping, passed out or growing from my cum. "Impressive cub, didn't know you were such a dom" called Ragnar as we embraced. "Might just let you have a go with me" he teased before grabbing my ass.
  9. The two roommates wake up the next morning in completely different mindsets. ‘Morris…..dude…..I really want to know what went on last night. You did things in your sleep that seemed kind of strange. You kept rubbing your legs and chest with your hands and kept complaining about something moving around inside you. I was going to wake you but I figured it would cause you to punch me or something.’ ‘WHAT? You are watching me sleep? Damn Ben sometimes I wonder if you should just have sex with me and get it over with.’ Ben frowns and turns around to leave their bedroom before going down the hall to get ready for his next class. Morris feels something buzzing by his right leg and realizes that his cell is ringing. He picks it up and sees a number he isn’t aware of. He answers it and starts talking. ‘Uhh hello who is this?’ ‘Hello there Morris, this is Professor Hardman. Avery has filled me in on where you are in the course and it seems to me that you will not have to attend any more lectures since you have passed a key component of the class. I will see you in a few weeks okay? I still want you to keep up on the workouts you are doing and spend a little bit of time with Avery so he can prep you for the final exam.’ Morris is surprised by what he is hearing and now gets what Avery was talking about the night before. ‘Professor, is it possible that my roommate Ben could also pass the class or does he have to do something too to get further along?’ Hardman chuckles a little and asks Morris exactly who Ben is since he has not actually met him before. The young student describes him to the professor who admits that Avery has never talked about him. ‘Hmmm, well Ben will have to work a bit harder to get to the final Morris, but maybe you can bring him with you to your sessions with Avery. In the meantime, he will have to go to the lectures to compete with the other thirteen students. I will be teaching the lectures while Avery will spend his time in my office. I need to get going now and I hope you have a good day Morris.’ The professor hangs up before Morris gets another word in. He gets up and puts his phone down inside the shorts he is going to wear for the day. He goes down the neighboring hall and into the bathroom. Ben stands by the vanity mirror putting lotion on his body which he has covered by only a pair of very skimpy briefs. ‘I just talked to Professor Hardman and I guess I don’t have to attend any more lectures. You will have to though. I tried to get you out of them, but he wouldn’t listen to me.’ ‘Aww damn dude, that sucks. Well not for you, but of course I know why you won’t have to go. I’m not going to sleep with that brute besides I think it will be great to gain some more knowledge there so I can grow huge.’ Ben flexes his biceps in the mirror which appear to have decent peaks on them from Morris’s perspective. He laughs a bit before leaving the bathroom and going down into the kitchen to grab something to eat. After six weeks into the course, Ben is beginning to struggle with the pace that has been set by Professor Hardman. Morris is noticing a real change come over him that actually makes him wonder if he should do something about it. In between classes a few weeks later, the two roommates sit down in the students’ lounge to talk about what is going on. ‘Dude…..I don’t know if I can compete with those hulks in there. Some of those guys are so freaking huge and seem to be getting even bigger. I swear that one guy in front of me grew while I was sitting in class last week. I kept hearing this weird sound come from his back and it looked like his shirt was getting tighter. By the end of the lecture, it was skin tight and I could see every muscle in his back. It was fucking crazy.’ Morris stared off somewhere as Ben described his experience. Once he finished talking about it, he waved his arm in front of his buddy’s face and smiled. ‘Hello…..Earth to Morris? Did you even hear a word I said?’ ‘Ohh yeah man I did, it’s just…..I think I believe you when you say that. I just wonder if that will happen to me too. I still think you should come with me to see Avery tomorrow it can’t hurt to hear him out. Maybe he can help you through some things?’ ‘Oh I don’t think so dude. You seem to have some crazy connection to him now. The last time you saw him two weeks ago, you were really pumped. I think your muscles grew too. You are almost my size now which at one time seemed impossible.’ Morris smiles as he slowly bounces his pecs which just a few weeks before were too small to even notice. He flexes his arms making the veins stick out and snake across his forearms and biceps. Ben shakes his head and puts his left hand on his face. ‘Your confidence is so much higher now man. Avery is definitely helping you, but I am just not getting the same results. I am going to go talk to Hardman about maybe getting out of the course because I am feeling overwhelmed.’ Ben gets up and turns to walk down the nearby stairs into the basement. Morris wants to follow him, but feels compelled to stop when he sees the guy that Ben was talking about earlier. The hulk has a thick black beard, bald head, tattoos on both arms, and pecs that can’t be contained in his tight blue shirt. The glasses he is wearing give people the impression that he is not only powerful but intelligent as well. His exposed olive skin is covered in black fur. He stops walking himself to turn his head around to see that Morris is looking at him. His powerful legs strain against his beige khakis as his huge ass pulls along every seam. He wanders over to the smaller man and looks into his eyes. ‘Hey there. *smiles* Weren’t you in Hardman’s class at one time? I seem to remember you from the first day, but you disappeared after that.’ Morris notices beads of sweat slowly dripping down the man’s wide veiny neck between his huge pec shelf. He returns his attention to the man’s eyes. Those big hazel eyes seem to be seducing him ever so slowly but not before he starts to move backwards a bit. ‘Well, I scored highly on the test so Hardman went ahead and put me through to the final which is pretty great.’ The man is surprised by this and lifts his arm up to his head. The thick baseball in his right arm grows to stretch the sleeve to its limits. Morris can’t seem to take his eyes off of it as the man squeezes it tighter. Within seconds, the sleeve busts as the bicep rises to its fullest peak. The man laughs before putting his arm back down to his side. ‘Damn, I need to buy new clothes. I have had this shirt for two years and it has never been this tight before. Avery told me that I need to slow down on these workouts, but I just can’t stop. They make me feel so…..incredible. I feel like I could grow forever.’ ‘Wait? You know Avery? I was about to go see him for some coaching on the final?’ The man looks at Morris with an amazed look on his face. ‘Avery Goodwin? Ahh now it makes sense. Avery is pretty sure that I will make it to the final too. You don’t seem to be growing like me though? Do you workout all the time?’ ‘Obviously not like you. You are huge man. My roommate sits behind you in class I guess. He said he could hear you growing as you sit in class.’ The man laughs and accidentally rips the left side of his shirt which exposes one of his lats. ‘SHIT! This sucks so bad, hey do you mind following me over to this corner man?’ The man moves over to the corner of the lounge and grabs his shirt. As he does, the fabric immediately rips as he pulls it off his upper body. He removes the sleeves and collar before wading them up in his hand. He shrugs his wide shoulders as his tatted hairy pecs bounce. Morris stares intensely at them as they bounce. ‘Hey what is your name man? Mine is Lance.’ ‘Morris. It’s Morris. Wow you are thick Lance. Avery has definitely done wonders for you.’ The man winks and reaches down to grab the unsuspecting young man’s hands before placing them on his hard abs and pecs. Morris moans deeply feeling the power raging from inside Lance’s body. ‘OH GAWD! I don’t think this is the place for this Lance. I don’t even know how this happened.’ ‘I suspected something about you Morris. You exude some sort of musk that immediately drew me to you. I don’t normally do this trust me, but for some reason your touch is VERY enticing.’ Lance tries to go a step further but Morris manages to stop him before he strips his pants off. ‘I think I should go see Avery now. This seems to be getting out of hand. I will talk to you later Lance.’ Morris rushes away from him before he can make another move and ends up stopping at the top of the stairs to the basement to catch his breath. His heart beats faster as he looks down to see Avery standing at the first turn and is staring up at him. The hairy stud laughs knowing what has just happened. He points at the floor next to him and motions for the young student to come down. ‘So…..you met Lance did you? He has definitely changed a lot. I barely recognize him myself.’ Morris meets him at the midway point and they both go down the stairs and into the gym. Avery takes him into the back of the gym to the table that they normally socialize at. The young student continues to have trouble breathing for some reason. Avery puts his arm around him and hugs him close to his chest. The huge graduate student is wearing a very loose tee that barely hides his thick meaty pecs. Morris’s lips find them and immediately start to kiss them lightly. ‘Oh no man. I am supposed to help you prepare for the final and that doesn’t include pec worship. *he laughs* Although it might help you calm down a little. *pulls the front of his shirt down and rips it open exposing his massive boulders*’ Morris moans deeply as he starts to suck on Avery’s huge pecs and nipples. The big man feels his cock straining his jeans as it nearly rips its way out the side. ‘Okay okay……damn Morris. You are making my balls stretch tighter than I can remember. I suppose you are hungry for some hot man juice aren’t you? Well, I won’t hold you back from that.’ Morris smiles as he leans down to unzip Avery’s jeans where he immediately meets up with a huge leaky rod. The big stud gasps as the young student gulps his cock down and starts working it over quite rapidly. The graduate student looks up and makes a few ‘hmmph’ sounds which go unnoticed to Morris. He is completely unaware that another man has now joined in on the fun. Another remarkably thick cock starts rubbing against his face as he continues to massage Avery’s cock with his mouth. Caught up in the whole sequence, Morris stops sucking Avery’s cock to turn and gulp the other cock down. He hears a very deep manly voice moan directly above him. The juices coming from this man’s cock taste remarkably sweet to him which makes him work it over almost at the same rate as Avery’s. He takes turns moving back and forth from one cock to the other making the big studs moan and groan as they rub Morris’s body. They both feel their rods swelling and their ballsacs stretching to their breaking points. The other man finally chimes in. ‘OHH MAN, I can’t hold it. Get ready for a geyser Morris.’ It is at this point that Morris realizes it is Lance and stops to stare up at him. The man leans over to plunge his tongue down Avery’s throat who is moaning himself as he feels his cock ready to burst. Morris pulls his own cock out of his pants and lets it ooze all over the gym floor. He massages both men’s huge hairy chests with his hands as he anticipates Lance’s load. He strokes it in steady rhythm with his own cock which makes the big stud shutter in delight. Within a few seconds, the man growls as he coats Morris’s face in thick white spunk. The young student then swallows the spurting rod down and chokes on the thick wad it is shooting. Watching intently, Avery moans passionately as he humps the air making his cock swell to the point that it turns purplish. ‘SHIT SHIT Morris, here it comes, I always lose it when I see something hot like this.’ Morris pulls Lance’s wet cock out of his mouth just in time to turn and get soaked by Avery’s powerful rod as it drenches his face and shirt in ribbons of cum. Morris sighs before leaning in and slowly gulping down the thick pole as it continues to pump multiple loads inside him. He feels the river of jizz also flowing out of his mouth and down inside his shirt which eventually meets up with his own cock. He rubs it all over his rod and jerks it a little bit faster. The two men pick Morris up and put him on the table. They both encourage him to keep stroking. Morris starts yelling in ecstasy as he feels himself getting closer to the edge. Avery leans over to whisper something in his ear. ‘Yeah man…..keep stroking and you will grow fucking massive. I know you can do it, just keep going and you will get a huge surprise.’
  10. Morris’s breathing slows down as his chest begins to rise. The two hairy studs notice the changes starting as the student’s arms begin to fill out as the veins thicken up and his biceps stretch the sleeves to their limits on his shirt. He moans feeling it spreading through him as his entire body reacts. His quads begin ripping the seams on his pants as they spill out the sides making the two bigger men growl in delight. ‘Yeah Morris, let it take over. Fucking grow like us, you won’t regret it.’ He stops stroking his cock as it thickens outward and begins shooting pre like it is cum. Morris squeezes his biceps making the sleeves completely rip open revealing two huge round mounds of muscle in what were his scrawny arms. The veins pulse as they move up to his shoulders which are ripping their way through the fabric also. His nipples strain his shirt to the point that he moans feeling them ready to explode from their confines. The two bigger men rip his shirt off and start punching his mammoth pecs making him gasp in pleasure. They know it feels amazing since they have had the same reaction before through their changes. Each time they do it his cock jumps and sprays another jet of precum. ‘Shoot it man it would be the ultimate finish to a great change.’ Both Avery and Lance pick him up and pull his ripped pants off before toying with his crotch and ass. Morris squeals as he feels his load finally pushing its way up into his cock. The two men smile as he finally shoots his cum all over them before falling back on the ground. His growing glutes make him bounce slightly as he feels his legs stretching and pulling themselves bigger and wider. He continues moaning as he feels himself getting larger as the other two continuously massage his cum into his skin. ‘Feels awesome don’t it Morris. Me and Lance were shocked at the way it felt ourselves. The pump is so incredible. *both men flex their biceps above Morris* Aww yeah, embrace it man because it goes away quickly during the first change.’ Morris feels himself starting to lose a bit of the pump Avery was talking about as it starts to deflate his muscles slowly. He groans feeling himself shrink as the other two pick him up on both sides and take him to the showers. They smile at each other as they reach over to turn the stalls on and drop him down on the ground. Morris makes a few agonizing sounds and stares up at them both. He tries to get up but slips a bit making the other two studs crouch over in laughter. ‘OMG man……this is too damn funny. You know we are just playing with you Morris. The truth is…..you are a part of us now man. Consider this a hazing of sorts you are going to have no problem passing the final exam now. Hardman will give you and Lance the exam next week so get ready. Now you two need to get cleaned up and go home.’ Avery washes up quickly and leaves for the locker room. Lance walks over and puts his hand out to lift Morris off the ground. He lets go soon after as the smaller, but noticeably fitter Morris starts slipping on the floor again. He lets out a few groans before Lance grabs his arm to keep him balanced. The thick hairy stud walks over to his stall beside Morris and starts lathering himself up. Morris stands there to take in the view for a few seconds and realizes that he is incredibly attracted to him. He feels his cock getting hard again and slowly walks over behind the sexy man. He wraps his arms around Lance’s chest and starts rubbing the man’s huge heaving pecs and ab slabs. The Arabic-American moans deeply, resting his back against Morris’s chest as he reaches his own arms around to rub the smaller man’s legs. Morris arches his head around to kiss Lance on the lips, but the big man resists. ‘Come on Morris…..we can’t be doing this man…..you are obviously still feeling horny from the change. *feels the small student’s cock rubbing up against his hairy ass* Well…..*smiles at him*, I guess you could shove it in there for a few minutes if you want.’ Morris growls eagerly as he slowly pushes himself inside Lance and thrusts in and out. Lance rubs his thick beard against the smaller man’s head and moans deeply feeling every inch inside his hole. He slaps Morris’s quads with each individual thrust making the excited top grunt. ‘Yeah man, fuck me. The water really feels good against our skin doesn’t it? I noticed this after I showered the first change the other day.’ Morris grips Lance’s thick waist as he pounds him faster. The versatile big man leans his head back to whisper something in the top’s left ear. ‘Don’t cum in me okay? Avery told me that it will cause problems if I have sex with another man similar to me. Just spray it on my back.’ Morris lets go of Lance and pulls out as he jerks his cock wildly and feels his balls filling up. Lance then decides to turn around and jerk his cock too. They both lean up against each other and wrap their arms around their shoulders to bring themselves to climax. They change things up and jerk each other off with the other’s hand feeling their rods swell and tense against the pressure. Finally after a few minutes of edging, the two men spray each other with thick creamy wads as it cascades all over their bodies. Lance yanks Morris under his shower stall and starts lathering soap on him. They lightly punch each other in the chest while cleaning the cum off and laughing as they do it. Morris looks him in the eyes and winks before jumping into Lance’s arms. The big man winces for a second and leans in to kiss his buddy’s lips. They moan as they remain under the water and hold each other. Before long, other guys start showing up in the showers and glare at them in a rather negative way. Realizing that they need to get going, they let go of each other and rush to grab towels to put over top of themselves. When they get to the locker room, Morris sits beside Lance and rubs the big man’s back in a comforting way. ‘I feel like we need to be together Lance. I can’t seem to stay away from you now. The connection I have with Avery is a little different, but with you it feels like we should be linked.’ Lance looks into Morris’s green eyes and smiles. ‘I feel it too man. *puts his right hand on Morris’s left leg* We do have a personal connection. I would have never known it if we didn’t have sex. I know now why we are the two finalists we are both linked through Avery who is tied to Hardman too.’ Morris looks puzzled as to how this could happen. Lance sees this and attempts to explain it. ‘Obviously you know that I have had sex with Avery since we both have this gift. Well Avery is not the main source of this, it is actually Professor Hardman. The reason there are only two of us in the end according to Avery is the fact that Hardman doesn’t want his secret to be out in the open. He entrusted Goodwin to select the best two from the fifteen he allowed in the class, that is why Avery led the first session. He chose me before the class ever began so I knew that I would be here at the end. I noticed you with him after the second part started. He was definitely into your potential. I have no idea why, but he picked you over the rest because of what lied beneath your skin. Obviously, he was right because our chemistry is amazing.’ Lance leans over and kisses Morris before pulling him into his chest and squeezing. The smaller man moans feeling the thick fur against his face and massaging the big stud’s back. Unbeknownst to them both, Ben is walking towards them from the gym area. He taps Morris on the shoulder to get his attention. ‘Well well well…..I should have known you would be messing around with this guy. I quit the class man the professor told me I wasn’t going to make it to the final anyway. It is quite obvious that you two are the ones that did. I just didn’t know that you two were THAT close.’ Morris turns around to let go of Lance to smile up at Ben. ‘I promise I didn’t cheat on purpose Ben. It just happened that way.’ Ben curls his lip up to the side and shakes his head. It is apparent he doesn’t believe him. ‘Whatever man, it doesn’t matter because the results speak for themselves. Anyway, I am finishing up early because I have another final to get to. I will talk to you later.’ Ben runs into the showers to clean up while the other two men kiss one last time. ‘I guess we should be going too Morris before other guys here start talking; time to split man.’ Lance gets up as his towel falls off showing off his hugely muscled lower body before slowly sliding his shorts over top of his beefy ass. He can hear Morris moaning over on the bench they were sitting on. The big man turns to push him off and growls in a flirty way. ‘Hey get up goofball and dress. You have got to get moving, I know you have other finals.’ Morris admits that he does and gets up to go over to his locker to get a clean outfit out that he left there the other day. When they finish dressing, Lance rushes out the front doors of the gym so Morris doesn’t follow him too closely. By the time Morris goes up the basement steps into the main lobby, Lance is nowhere to be seen which makes the student a little sad but he knows that he needs to study for the four other finals that are taking place the rest of the week. He returns back to the student lounge with his backpack in tow and lays his books down on one of the tables to study.
  11. EcchiMultiverse

    Marvelous Man - Chapter 8

    All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1clnFFt_ZwfeJeUXQiPmhIxQrXwpfgMXWT2pBbBqaOAE) For other chapters, I will post them on here later. But you can find the archives on my FA and Tumblr with pics included. FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ecchimultiverse/ Tumblr: http://ecchimultiverse.tumblr.com/ First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Chapter 8: Reporting to the D.A.B. Floating down to the ground, Marvelous Man landed in front of the D.A.B. public headquarters. Finding it was no issue with the help of his smartphone’s GPS. The muscular hero looked up at the five-story building and found its architectural design to be quite basic. The only thing that helped the structure to stand out was its holographic sign floating at roof level with blue flames levitating on both sides of it. It had the acronym “D.A.B.” in a cobalt color font with a subtitle underneath explaining what the letters meant. Marvelous Man couldn’t tell if the holographic sign projection was caused by magic or science. Marvelous Man walked through the sliding doors; mindful to duck his head underneath the door frame. Inside, the foyer hallway reminded him of his old high school. The ground was paved with tiles of white and navy blue resilient flooring. The walls were painted with a drab white and aligned with propaganda posters encouraging membership and the importance of the D.A.B. Not too far away, there was a gray, curved reception desk with a bored woman sitting behind. In the back of her was another hallway trailing further inside the building. There were rows of black chairs lined against the walls that were filled with a few elderly people. Stepping up to the reception desk, it took a few seconds for the bored woman to look up from the book she was reading to take notice of Marvelous Man. Her eyes widened at the surprise visitor and clamped her book shut. Immediately, her attitude changed to a more welcoming attitude. She greeted, “Hi! Welcome to the D.A.B.! The Demon Authority Bureau. I’m Sophie. How can I help you?” “Hi. Umm, I’m Marvelous Man, and I came here to give a statement about what went on in the graveyard yesterday. Uh, this guy named Gene told me to come in,” said Marvelous Man Sophie directed, “Oh, right! We’ve been expecting you. The head of the bureau wanted to speak to you personally about that incident. Just head down behind me and take the elevator to the fifth floor. It’s Room 506.” Oh...okay. Thanks,” said Marvelous Man. Following Sophie’s directions, Marvelous Man headed down the hall behind her. The hallway itself was basically the same as the foyer with the exact flooring and wall color. Minutes passed by until he came upon a set of elevators on his left. He pushed the button and waited for the elevator to arrive. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Marvelous Man stood in front of a door with an engraved plaque “Director Skye of the North American Region”. He sighed; trying to calm himself while his heart wouldn’t stop beating so fast during the elevator ride to the fifth floor. He knocked with a hard tap to establish his presence. A second passed by before the door swung open by itself. The voice from within the room called out, “Enter.” Marvelous Man complied and ducked his head underneath the door frame as the door closed behind him by itself. Inside, the spacious office was furnished with plants, statues, and other furniture with a flooring covered with a cobalt-colored carpet. Amongst the wall was scenic paintings hanged and glowing runes painted on empty spaces. At the back of the room, the wall was replaced with a glass pane; letting in sunlight and giving a scenic view of the city. Before the wall-sized window sat a cherrywood desk with a man residing in it. More than likely, he was the Director of the D.A.B. “Marvelous Man, I presume?” said the man. The Director at the desk spoke with the drawl of a Southern gentleman, and his vocal tone sounded soothing and deep. From far away, the muscular hero could see that other than workplace knick knacks, the cherrywood office desk had a desktop and some sort of creature huddled on top. Marvelous Man nodded, “Yes, sir.” “Splendid. Please, have a seat,” said the man. Marvelous Man complied and walked forward. In front of the Director’s desk resided a cream-colored armchair. He sat himself down in it. It might have looked nice, but it was not at all comfortable for Marvelous Man to sit in. It did not help that the chair’s fabric was cheap and causing his thighs to itch. Observing the man at the desk closer, Marvelous Man could tell that the Director dressed with as much sophistication as his accent. The man wore a cobalt suit with a pearl white vest and a navy blue tie to complement the whole ensemble. The suit itself seemed to bring out his milky white skin and auburn hair. His hair and beard were well trimmed to give off the impression of a successful businessman. The creature at the desk looked to be a sort of furry imp with baby goat horns. It resembled a fluffy grey cat, but its head was slightly bigger than his body and wore a suit similar to the Director’s. The imp’s crystal blue cat eyes were adorned by a pince-nez glasses that lacked any arms and rested on the imp’s pink cat nose. It sat at the edge of the cherrywood desk, pawing at an electronic tablet that was as big as its head. Marvelous Man found the creature to be adorable, and that it seemed the D.A.B. took its company colors very seriously. The Director stood up and held out his hand. His physique seemed to be that of a bit bulky to fill out the suit but still be slim. He greeted, “I’m Doug Skye, Director of the North American Demon Authority Bureau Region.” Marvelous Man grasped the hand to shake. He immediately had to stifle a painful groan as his gentle handshake was met with a tourniquet-strength grip. Not wanting to lose face, he kept smiling. “Nice to meet you, sir,” replied Marvelous Man. Director Skye released his grip and pointed his open palm at the fluffy cat imp. He introduced it, “And this here is my familiar, Puzzles. He’s a smoke imp.” The feline familiar looked up at Marvelous Man. Its voice and accent sounded as if a middle-aged Russian man’s voice box was implanted in the imp’s throat. “A pleasure,” said Puzzles. As Puzzles went back to fiddling with his tablet, Doug sat back down in his black leather chair. Director Skye spoke, “Now first of all, I just want to let you know that I appreciate your assistance with taming those unrested souls back at the New Forest Cemetery. But I have to say that I was not expecting you to be this big. Gene really understated your size.” “...I’m sorry?” said Marvelous Man. Doug waved his hand, “Oh, don’t mind my tangent. Anyways, let me just review your file before we go any further. Puzzles?” “Already on scroll, boss. Just put on glasses,” said the imp. Director Skye nodded, “Thank you.” Opening one of the desk’s drawers, he pulled out a black eyeglasses case. Doug snapped it open to retrieve a pair of silver-rimmed visor glasses. The visor glasses’ lenses had a blue tint, and its narrow height was slightly bigger than the Director’s eyes. The lenses began to light up with a square of multicolored pixels in front of Doug’s eyes. Director Skye then gestured with his right hand in the air; as if he were scrolling and zooming in an image on an invisible tablet. Marvelous Man looked down and noticed an object sprawled open on the desk in front of the Director. It looked like a paper scroll that he saw in world history textbooks about the Torah. However, it seemed that the paper was substituted with a transparent plastic sheet that glowed with its own pixels. “So it was you that caused the graveyard to shine like a Christmas tree, am I right?” questioned Director Skye. Marvelous Man felt like this was about to be an interrogation, and he was not sure what the correct answers were. Marvelous Man could not help but feel tense. He swallowed, “...Yes, sir. The effects are temporary. So it should go away, uh, soon.” “Oh, it’s fine. That cemetery got back to its gloomy self about an hour or so ago. The people living close by were pissed that your light was bright enough to wake them up. But none of them got hurt, and the only damage was a couple of smashed graves and a bunch of holes in the ground,” mused Doug. The Director continued, “So other than having the proverbial powers of a flying brick, you can enchant people and objects with light, and you can heal wounds or poison.” “Yes, sir. I can also throw my wreath like a boomerang...even though that’s not my powers. I just thought that you should know,” answered Marvelous Man. Doug nodded and took off his glasses. Folding and then perching it next to his electronic scroll, he turned his gaze back to Marvelous Man and folded his hands together. “Well, you definitely have a very diverse array of skills. But I think it’s time to get to the point of our meeting. I’d like you to tell me what happened last night,” spoke Director Skye, “And don’t worry about your encounter from Sugar Skull. Gene testified that you were not involved with whatever that ghoul was trying to do.” Marvelous Man complied, “...Alright.” >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> “And after that, I went home. That’s about all that I can remember about last night,” admitted Marvelous Man. Director Skye had his hand cupping his chin, as he listened and mulled over Marvelous Man’s testimony. Marvelous Man felt that the Director had suspicion in his eye. Doug spoke up, “I see...So when did you fuck him?” “...What?” said Marvelous Man. Director Skye cleared his throat, “Gene Lightfoot. My investigating agent that has the rabbit ears. When did you have intercourse with him. It’s alright to say it. You’re not in trouble. Every man at this company has had some sexual encounter with him at least once. I just need to know when it happened. Was it before, after, or even during the altercation with the Skeleton Lord?” “Wha-No, no! I didn’t have sex with him! I mean...I really did want to, but I didn’t,” exclaimed Marvelous Man. Puzzles stopped fiddling with his tablet and looked up. Director Skye leaned forward, “So what kept you from chasing after his bunny behind?” Marvelous Man thought hard about why he did no such sexual deeds with Gene. It happened more than once that he got an erection with the desire for Gene’s body. But every time, he found a way to counteract those feelings. “...I know this sounds silly, but...Whenever I felt this gigantic urge to...have sex with Gene, I just thought about how much I loved being a superhero, and that I needed to do my superhero duty at that time,” answered Marvelous Man. Puzzles and Doug looked at each other for a moment before turning their attention back towards Marvelous Man. Director Skye smiled, “How’d you like to work for the D.A.B.?” “Huh?” said Marvelous Man. Puzzles spoke up, “Bossman said would you like a job?” “Oh...I-I guess so. Why?” asked Marvelous Man. Puzzles explained in his thick Russian accent, “Because of your powers, and you are less likely to fuck up. Everybody wants to play ‘hide the salami’ with Gene. That is why he is forced to work alone or with female field agent. Unfortunately, all our female field operatives are high ranked and had to go fight monsters in another realm from invading ours. So we’re short on staff, and you would make good partner for Gene.” “You see, Gene is very special. Other than his super strength, shapeshifting, and his sensitivity to sound cause of the, ya know, rabbit ears, he’s a level two empath,” stated the Director, “That means he can pick up the emotions of other people and even emotional fingerprints recently left on objects or places. He could even detect a person’s aura and know who exactly they are and where they are. Well, as long as they are in the close vicinity of him. His power makes him perfect for recon and investigation for the D.A.B.” Marvelous Man thought back to his encounter with Gene last night. It now made sense as to how the bunny demigod detected him and the skeletons coming out of the ground. Director Skye held up his finger, “But...this is where it start becoming a double-edged sword. He doesn’t know this but while he’s receiving all those emotions like a radio, he’s also broadcasting his own to everybody around him. And because of his...background and his unquenchable thirst for sex…-” “He makes everybody horny,” butted in Puzzles. The Director nodded, “Yes. And usually, that ‘broadcast’ of his can be canceled out by a strong will. So it’s supposed to affect lesser beings and the less inhibited. But with him having universal good looks that can appeal to anybody, everybody that looks at him drops their guard for a second and are immediately infected by his libido. And thanks to our enchanters, it’s why this room, the female staff, and our suits are warded against his ability.” “Oh...wait. Why aren’t the men warded?” questioned Marvelous Man. Puzzles chimed in, “Being the company cum dumpster helps bring up work morale for the male staff and keeps them from moving on to other jobs.” Doug glared at his familiar. “What? It’s true,” shrugged Puzzles. Director Skye sighed, “So now that you know Gene’s...specialness, would you like to join our organization? We could use someone of your skill set, and we’d start you off with a nice salary.” Marvelous Man paused. It was all happening so fast. He needed field experience to rank up, and this was opportunity at his doorstep. Only somebody insane of self-righteous would forgo this chance. “Sure, I mean, yes!” he exclaimed. Director Skye smiled, “Splendid. Puzzles show him around and get him his communicator and scroll, while I push the paperwork through. Now Mr. Marvelous Man, I’d appreciate it if you could start immediately. Seeing as how Gene has to track down the Skeleton Lord before he actually tries something nasty this time.” “Um, yes, of course,” nodded Marvelous Man. Setting down the tablet on the desk, Puzzles immediately transformed into grey smoke. The smoke drifted over to Marvelous Man; resting upon his shoulder. It then reformed back into the fluffy imp that sat and stared at the muscular hero. He reasoned, “I have tiny feet, so I’ll be riding on you. Come on, let’s go find Gene first.” “...Okay” said Marvelous Man. Director Skye called out, “Oh, and one more thing, Marvelous Man. I’d like it if we kept this conversation about Gene’s abilities to ourselves. Especially from Gene. He has no idea that he can influence the emotions of others, and I feel that him knowing that information could hurt himself. Emotionally, that is.” Marvelous Man did not know Gene that long, but anybody with a conscience wouldn’t like to know that they can literally affect the minds of others. If Marvelous Man had that power, he would probably not be able to differentiate who is actually being sincere and who is being swayed by his own emotions. And all those men Gene had sex with...it could possibly cause Gene to believe that he was a raping them all this time. “Yes, sir,” he nodded. Getting up, he waved at the Director and excused himself. Even though Puzzles looked to be as heavy as a toddler, Marvelous Man could barely feel any weight pressing down on his shoulder. One thing he found odd was that Puzzles smelled like a blend of lavender and jasmine. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> As Puzzles explained what each the purpose of each floor was for, he guided Marvelous Man to the second floor: The Shower and Onsen Floor. It was the first obvious place to look for him other than the Training Floor located underground. If not in either places, he would be on the dormitory third floor. Puzzles went on with his lecture, “This is where our employees go to relax and get cleaned up. The water is refined and heated with magic and elemental familiars, which can help field agents recover from wounds faster. On this floor, we also have saunas, and all the facilities we use here are separated by gender. The walls have also been warded to keep out peeping eyes that try to ghost through objects or use clairvoyance or astral projection or whatever. Bossman cannot handle another lawsuit, and my aromas can only relax him so much before he gets a stroke. That was figure of speech. He hasn’t had a stroke...yet.” “Oh...So does Gene get dirty a lot if this would be the first place to look?” questioned Marvelous Man. Puzzles replied, “Yes. I did say he was the company cum dumpster, yes? The men get rejuvenated here and get horny when he’s around. Everybody naked and willing, it’s like candy land for him. Check the locker room first.” Marvelous Man saw Puzzles point to the door for the male locker rooms. He could feel the overwhelming sense of lust washing over him and erecting his primal member. This was not at all like Marvelous Man to get an erection for no reason. That part of his life passed after puberty. Obliging the fluffy smoke imp’s commands, the muscular hero pushed open the door and ducked underneath the door frame. The inside smelled of sweat and musk and echoed with slapping sound effects and the moans of males in ecstasy. Marvelous Man immediately spotted the origin of the smell and sound ten steps away from him. On all fours, Gene Lightfoot was naked and perched on top of a locker room bench. There were two men with him as well with one in front of Gene and the other behind him. Both of them impaled the bunny demigod in a spit roast fashion with their own erect primal members. The one in front of him was a young, caramel-colored Latino man with a swimmer’s build, and the one invading Gene’s rear was a smaller, chubby Caucasian. “I-I-I’m sorry!” stammered Marvelous Man. Backing up, the muscular hero bunked the back of his head against the door frame. Puzzles’ head also collided; causing him to yelp in pain and rub the back of his head. The imp complained, “Watch what you’re doing, you colossus! I told you what he was going to be doing. Why were you so surprised? Nevermind, I’ll take care of it myself.” Puzzles transformed into his usual gray smoke and glided down to the ground. After reforming himself on the floor, he fixed his tie and waddled to the door. The fluffy imp pushed open the locker room door and let himself in. A few seconds later, the sound of a muffled explosion detonated within. The three men Marvelous Man spotted taking part in lustful acts ran out the room sputtering and coughing. The room behind them was filled with smoke that slowly wafted out the entrance. Puzzles nonchalantly walked outside with a satisfied grin. “Must you do that, Puzzles?! I do not find that amusing at all! You could have waited until I was finished with the sex,” coughed Gene. Puzzles sneered, “It’s amusing for me. Besides, three is a crowd, and the best way to break up crowds is to use tear gas. I could try to use a stink bomb scent, but I wasn’t sure if you three had the fetish for that sort of thing.” “But to change subject, now that you’re here and well enough to fight, we need to prep for today’s mission. The magical researchers should have pinged the Skeleton Lord’s location by now with the orb you lodged into him last night,” he stated. Puzzles turned to Marvelous Man, “Go to the magical research facility on fourth floor. You can’t enter without someone like me, since you chose to not release your real name. So just wait outside until we get back. Gene needs to get his spare uniform on the dormitory floor, and I need to make sure he does not ‘get lost’.” “Sure,” nodded Marvelous Man. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Though the sliding glass doors were the entrance to the magical research facility, it paid no mind to Marvelous Man’s existence. Unlike the other floors he was previously on, the fourth floor had its own foyer before actual entry into the facility. Marvelous Man supposed that whatever they researched in there was of great importance. There was no keycard slot or numeric keypad, for typing in a password, next to the door. The muscular hero wondered how someone with higher clearance was given access to such a place. Beyond the glass door was another hallway; turning in another direction to hide its secrets. The elevator door behind Marvelous Man chimed. Turning around, he saw the door opening; revealing the fluffy Puzzles and a freshly-clothed Gene. The rabbit demigod had his arms crossed with his face not hiding any shred of annoyance. As for the smoke imp familiar, his face appeared neutral, as he straightened his little navy blue tie. Transforming back into grey smoke, Puzzles flew over to Marvelous Man’s shoulder and reformed itself back into its suited furry form. The imp sat down as the glass door in front of them slid itself open. Marvelous Man took initiative and trudged on through with Gene following behind. After turning the corner in the hallway, the travel was cut short as they arrived to a spacious room. The area appeared to be a small Victorian-era library with shelves lined with books, and the wooden walls were adorned with masks, portraits, and mystical runes. It reminded Marvelous Man of the Director’s office but with more antiquity to its style. While most of the places in this building seemed to be dull in every sense of the word, important places like this and Director Skye’s appear to give off their own personality. The library seemed to give off a homely tone; complemented by a fireplace and a ticking grandfather clock in the corner. As Marvelous Man scanned the room, he noticed something odd about it. Though it was expansive, there was no other doors leading to other rooms, and the library was not big enough to fully fill out the fourth floor. The staff in this area was also small, since he counted less than twelve people in the library. He would most definitely have to ask about this floor later. A woman of Iranian descent looked up from her book while sitting at a wooden table across from them. Upon spotting the three, she closed her tome and stood up. She wore a cream white hijab with a navy blue gown and appeared to be in her late thirties. The woman bowed, “Good evening, Mr. Puzzles and Gene. I’m so sorry that I did not see you earlier.” “It’s no problem, Fairuza,” replied Puzzles, “This is Marvelous Man. He’s new and is Gene’s partner for now. Marvelous Man this is Fairuza. She’s a sorceress and your field analyst for now.” Fairuza looked up at Marvelous Man, “Nice to meet you.” “Good to meet you too,” nodded Marvelous Man. Puzzles spoke up, “So have you managed to locate the Skeleton Man?” The field analyst nodded and opened her book while whispering to it. The printed text began to rise off the page and float in the air. The words collected itself into a small ball that levitated above the book. Fairuza then gestured with her free hand and caused her hand to flow with a small grey aura. The ball of words broke apart and started to form a map with traffic lines and simple building shapes. Once the map was fully complete, she pointed to a sphere of words that was pulsing on top of a road. “With Gene’s ball, I located him underground in the abandoned Ridgemont subway station and hasn’t moved since. But I find this concerning, because this is one of the homeless communities in Skyway City. He could be hiding amongst them, which isn’t that hard with what Gene said about his complexion…” she stated. Puzzles speculated, “Or he could be holding them hostage or something much worse. What about the scribes? Were they able to get a visual on him?” “I’m afraid not,” shook Fairuza’s head, “They’re being blocked or warded by something. And the police department haven’t received any calls or complaints yet.” Puzzles questioned, “So what do we know about Skeleton Lord then?” “Well...nothing. There’s no historic mention of a Skeleton Lord. Even the magical archives are drawing a blank. The magical researchers are still analyzing the building fragments, but all I can say is that he’s really old. Do not take him lightly. He was sealed away for a reason, so he could be a Rank B villain or above. I’ll let you know more when the magical researchers get back to me,” explained Fairuza. Puzzles sighed, “Then we need to nip this in bud or else the Nemesis Branch will take over this case. And then bossman really will have a stroke after shouting about them stealing all our work and funding.” The smoke imp straightened up. “Alright. You two need to get in there and find the Skeleton Lord. Do not engage him until after you have safely evacuated the homeless. After that, take him down. Dead or alive, just take no chances. He raised skeletons when he was at his weakest, so there’s no telling what he could do after getting some rest. Gene go pick up your weapon. The enchanters have modified it a bit to help you catch runaways. Fairuza please give Marvelous Man his communicator and scroll,” commanded Puzzles. The situation felt tense to Marvelous Man as his heartbeat accelerated. The threat of the Skeleton Lord appeared to increase with every passing moment. He already had a difficult time when him and Gene were assisted by Sugar Skull to temporarily thwart the ancient villain. Without the ghoul or anybody else’s assistance, could they really handle it? Next Chapter
  12. Read what precedes this chapter if need be: Muscle Buddies 1.0 & 1.1: https://muscle-growt...orkout-session/ Muscle Buddies 1.2: https://muscle-growt...eping-a-secret/ Muscle Buddies 1.3: https://muscle-growt...now-who-we-are/ Muscle Buddies 2.0 & 2.1: https://muscle-growt...ng-the-admirer/ Chapter 2.2: Let's Assume That We Can Get Along Spending time with Omar over the summer before his senior year of high school has been incredibly satisfying for Jeff, especially after the recommendation from his assistant football coach Colton Goodwin. His relationship with Dustin has stayed fairly strong despite both of the teenagers urges to let off some steam with various friends of theirs. Jeff’s decision to focus solely on his rugby training is surprising considering that coach Goodwin expected him to work towards football rather than the other sport. This could have played into the decision of why Colton has started spending more time with Dustin and ending up falling for the amateur bodybuilder. Jeff’s unusual relationship with Omar has never really been a problem for Dustin since he has always known that they have fooled around with each other. What he doesn’t know however is that they are doing it far more frequently than before. The sessions they have are more about just showing off how strong each of them is with the other. Jeff’s ability to lift Omar above his head now in his senior year compared to where he started at the beginning of the summer is beyond compare. Omar has grown weak for this kind of horseplay and Jeff is fully aware of it. After nearly every practice for rugby, they train together and wait until the rest of their team leaves before they move on to more important matters. Jeff’s fellow teammate West, who has spent some very personal time with Dustin as well, has had his theories about Jeff and Omar’s relationship. He has known his fellow classmate long enough to know when he is being fairly secretive. His curiosity finally gets the better of him one night after all of the other guys leave. Acting as if he is going to go shower after a training session, he walks down the corridor to the locker rooms and stops before sneaking around a corner to watch the two thick seniors as they start to horse around with each other on the Smith machine. They both are wearing tank tops that hug their beefy chests as well as tight pants that are nice and snug on their bloated legs and asses. West himself wears similar clothing and wastes no time before he pulls his tank and pants off to stand directly in the path of the two brutes. His cock is already dribbling a pool of precum on the ground in front of him just beyond the gym floor. He never once touches it with his hands as it throbs and bounces its way up and down. Jeff and Omar laugh as they strip down to where they are wearing nothing before they pounce on each other. In the beginning of this scene, it is Omar that is the aggressive one but quickly changes to where it is Jeff who takes full advantage of him with his size and strength. Jeff’s power turns Omar on greatly as he moans in his deep voice. West has never seen this side of his good friend before, the rough and rowdy beastly man who wants to be the one in control. Both bulky teens are already soaked and glisten with sweat as their muscles strain and tense with each movement they make. West moans to himself as he runs his hands up and down his ripped muscular chest and tweaks his hard nips making his cock jump each time. He makes thrusting motions in the air like he is fucking someone. He won’t hold out long because he was already horned up from the intense workout he just finished a few minutes previously. He grunts and seconds later sprays several jets of cum all over the ground as it coats the light colored wood. His voice manages to carry its way far enough over to get the attention of both Jeff and Omar which embarrasses him immensely. Before he can turn the other way to escape to the lockers, he hears Jeff’s voice calling for him to come over and join them. He stops moving in his tracks to think about his decision before he walks toward them. Both of the beefy teens grin as they get up off the floor and grab him by the legs to pick him up to put him on their shoulders. Jeff never really thought about West much beforehand, but after seeing his teammate get turned on so much by what him and Omar are doing, he is willing to include the smaller stud in the fun. Both Jeff and Omar take turns using West as a barbell as they deadlift him over and over again. It starts off with some light teasing and quickly moves into full-blown worship as the smaller teen can’t help but to massage both of the stud’s thick chests with his mouth and tongue. It isn’t long before West moves down to find their meaty cocks and works them over slowly and methodically making the big boys grunt each time he deep throats them. Jeff and Omar take turns punching at each other’s stomachs while West gets lost in massaging their immense rods. The taste of their precum sets him on fire as he feels another load building up in his own balls. West stops sucking them occasionally to look up at them to see what they are doing to each other. Jeff will flex his massive guns every time he notices West looking and smiles down at him before telling him to go back to servicing his cock. After several minutes of gulping on both poles, the smaller teen can feel them getting closer to bursting. He stops sucking finally to stroke them both in unison. Their hips thrust in sync with each other as West moans loudly feeling his body thrusting along with them. In a remarkable turn of events, both Jeff and Omar explode at the same time and hit West in the face as giant rivers of cum go splashing down his chest and onto his cock. The instant the white flood hits West’s rod, he shoots another big load all over the gym floor. Once he finishes, he gets up and hugs both men tightly. Jeff and Omar continue to smack each other around this time moving up to their pecs and grunting a few times. West asks them to kiss each other, but they decline. Instead, Jeff picks him up and wraps his thick arms around the fit teen’s waist and pulls him in to kiss his lips. West moans deeply as he puts his hands on Jeff’s head and leans into him. Omar smiles and asks if they need to be alone which prompts Jeff to immediately stop kissing the thinner teen. He asks the strongman if he would want a kiss from his friend since he is pretty good at it. Omar resists at first but then grabs the teen to turn him around. West peers into the big man’s brown eyes and swoons a little. They smile at each other before West leans in to lock lips with the burly powerlifter. To Omar’s surprise, he actually likes the way the fit teen kisses him and holds him tightly against his barrel chest. After a few minutes of light kissing, Omar puts West back down on the floor. Both Jeff and the big strongman rub their admirer’s head to show their affection for him before they grab their stuff to go to the locker room. West sits down in the same spot for a minute or two to take in what just happened. He finally gets up and follows behind them to go wash up from the amazing encounter he just had.
  13. Check out Parts 1 & 1.1 first to keep track: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2085-muscle-buddies-chapters-1-15/ After making the playoffs at the end of the football season, Jeff wants to come out to the rest of the guys on the team, but Dustin keeps telling him that it isn’t going to help him if he does. After celebrating their last home game with the team, Jeff spends a little bit of time in the locker room having a ‘conversation’ with Dustin. The two studly teens laugh as they horse around near the lockers rolling on the floor and playfully punching each other. Without realizing it, they can hear a deep voice rumbling above them like they are trying to clear their throat. The two young men stop moving and look up at them. The man has a look on his face that makes them wonder if he is mad or not as they stand there with their arms in a dominant stance. The rest of the team has already showered and is leaving the dressing area to go home to prepare for the next game at this point. Dustin jumps to his feet and starts to move away from Jeff but not before the man grabs him by the arm. The man turns to look at him and points to the nearby bench. Dustin goes to sit down immediately afterwards. It turns out that the man is the coach that saw the two teenagers having sex before the football season began. He is also the assistant coach of the football team. The man is incredibly muscled, much larger than he was back when he caught them together. He turns back around and reaches down to pull Jeff up to his feet. The stunned teen is shirtless since he hasn’t yet showered from the game. The coach walks up to him and looks him straight in the eyes before pressing his immense body up against Jeff’s. He knows that the teen has tried to avoid him for weeks because of what happened that night. He grabs Jeff’s hands and puts them on his huge ass which is hugging his tight jeans. Dustin watches intently and even lets out a few moans. The coach grunts a few times before wrapping his arms around Jeff and picking him up. He starts using the muscled teen like a dumbbell curling him and lifting him up and down above his head and directly in front of his face. The man’s groomed beard brushes up against Jeff’s crotch each time to make him react. The coach eventually stops lifting him to watch the young man’s crotch pulse inside his football pants. He leans in to smell Jeff’s musk before running his tongue along the crotch. Dustin knows he should do something, but he finds the whole situation too hot. Jeff isn’t exactly trying to stop the man either since he has had his eye on the coach for as long as the season has gone on. Feeling his own cock stirring in his pants, Dustin gets up to go over and join the other two. He puts his hands around the front of the coach’s chest and pulls on the polo shirt he is wearing, ripping it open down the front which immediately makes the man drop Jeff onto the ground. He turns and yells at Dustin making his huge hairy chest flex as his pecs and abs swell. The force behind the pump makes the sleeves on his shirt shred as his bicep peaks appear through the fabric. Dustin doesn’t get far before he is tackled on the ground by the man. The man tells him to punch him in the chest which Dustin does without a second thought. He laughs and tells him to do it again as it pleases him greatly. He rips the rest of his shirt off and grins as he flexes his upper body again. He forces Dustin to rub his muscles and orders him to say how much he wants his body. Jeff is now scooting behind the coach and rubbing his crotch up against the older man’s ass. The man turns and orders him to take his pants off so he can see how much of a man he is becoming. Without much coaxing, Jeff pulls his pants and jock off to show his engorged cock which has been leaking precum for quite some time. The coach moans as he leans down to swallow the thick pole down his throat. Jeff yells in delight feeling his cock tickling the man’s throat. Dustin reaches underneath and up to unzip the man’s pants to pull them down. The coach’s huge bubble butt stares him in the face as the man’s nine-inch pole dangles towards Dustin’s legs. He pulls the coach down on to his face and shoves his tongue inside the man’s hole making the hugely muscled daddy moan as he continues to work Jeff’s cock over. Knowing that the muscled teen can’t hold out too long, he starts jerking Jeff rapidly as he pulls his cock out and looks up at the teen’s face smiling the whole time. He commands Dustin to keep rimming him as he playfully punches Jeff’s powerful chest with his free hand. Feeling the teen’s balls swelling to twice their size, he runs his tongue along Jeff’s slit hoping to summon the giant load from inside. Jeff can sense the flood moving into his cock and shoves his rod down the coach’s throat which surprises the huge man. He grips the huge teen as Jeff unloads down his throat making the coach moan deeply feeling it fill his insides. Dustin runs his hands along the man’s balls and cock feeling it tense like it is about to explode itself. He stops rimming the coach and slides his body down in time to feel a giant river of cum hitting his face and head. The coach flexes his massive legs and lowers his huge rod down onto Dustin’s mouth trying to get him to open it. He pulls Jeff’s cock out to tell him to do it or he will force him to take it up his ass. After resisting a few seconds, he gulps the hairy muscleman’s cock down and swallows what is left flowing from it. The coach grunts in satisfaction after finally doing what he has fantasized about all this time. He pulls his cock out of Dustin’s mouth and gets up. He pulls up the jeans he was wearing and grabs his shredded shirt before going into the shower area. The two muscled teens stare at each other and wonder what the hell just happened. They both smile before getting up from the locker room floor. Jeff walks over and sits beside Dustin. He leans in to lick the coach’s cum off the teen’s face and moans tasting the spunk before kissing his lover’s lips and holding him in his arms. They both think that their secret is safe with the coach, but they may have to do this again to make sure he keeps it hidden. If you enjoyed this, then read the next two chapters as well: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2102-muscle-buddies-chapters-2-3/
  14. Despite feeling invigorated from his visit with Dr. Darkori the first time, Brice Hanley has returned to having energy problems like before. It has been close to six months since his last visit with the gorgeous red doctor and was hoping to hear from his office again, but has yet to do so. As a result of his low energy yet again, he returns to see his primary physician Dr. Orleans. The handsome doctor greets him once he enters the lobby which seems really strange to Brice. ‘So you are having the same problem as before?’ he says with a concerned look at his face. ‘I want you to follow me into my office.’ Brice stays behind him and smiles as he stares at the sexy doctor’s wide back and even mumbles under his breath. The doctor directs him inside and closes the door. Brice sits in one of the leather chairs in front of Dr. Orleans desk as the hunky doctor sits in his chair. He opens up the energy deprived man’s file and has an interesting look on his face. ‘I am actually one of Damien’s close friends,’ Dr. Orleans says to Brice. ‘We met several years ago and he gave me a few solutions to problems that I have. I used to have a lot of pain in my head, but Damien made a serum specifically designed for me. It takes quite a bit of time to do because he has to make it just right or it won’t be successful.’ Brice constantly stares at Orleans huge arms and wants to ask him about them. ‘How did you get your arms to look like that?’ he asks. ‘Ohh, good question,’ Orleans flexes his biceps as they become engorged with blood and swell to make the veins and vessels look like nets. ‘His serum actually boosts the body’s testosterone level so I was able to lift heavier and grow much quicker. Now I can’t cure your problem, but I can give you a temporary fix to your problem.’ Brice seems quite interested in what he means by this. ‘So…..what is the temporary fix then?’ Dr. Orleans gets up to close his blinds and lock his door. ‘Call me Devin by the way, I feel as if we are going to be friends after this.’ Orleans takes his jacket and shirt off and reveals his thick muscled hairy chest as he pulls his loafers and unzips his dress slacks as his big cock flops out as he slides them down and off of him. ‘WHAT IS THIS?’ Brice yells out. ‘This is my solution Brice to your problem. I can’t supply what Damien supplies, but I can certainly make you feel well for at least the time being.’ He walks over to the deprived man and sits his cock on his shoulder. Brice’s eyes get huge and seem almost embarrassed that he had a major crush on Devin for so long. ‘Don’t be afraid to touch me Brice, I am willing to give you the nourishment you deserve.’ Brice takes his right hand and slowly starts stroking Devin’s cock as he moans. ‘Damn, that feels good man. It has definitely been a while since I have relieved myself. Go ahead and put it in your mouth.’ Brice turns his head and slowly starts swallowing the doctor’s thick rod. He tastes the sweet juices that have started to ooze from the piss slit and begins to suck harder. ‘MMMMM feels good Brice, feels really good. I don’t want you to stop okay, just keep going and drink whatever comes out.’ Brice moans loudly as he moves faster and faster making the doctor rub his own body and moan himself. The tired patient rubs the doctor’s balls and feels how full they are as he explores Devin’s body feeling his tight abs, back, legs, and pecs. He squeezes the doctor’s gorgeous hairy pecs and pinches his nipples for him. Devin rubs Brice’s head as he gets him closer to the edge. ‘That’s it a bit more man and you will have your medicine…..GOOD MAN…..OH YEAH GOOD MAN!’ Brice feels it moving up into the cock as it begins to contract and squirts jet after jet of thick cum down his throat. He moans in ecstasy as he continues to drain the doctor of his spunk. ‘YEAH KEEP GOING BRICE, THERE IS MORE IN THERE.’ Brice feels more cum moving up into Devin’s cock as it starts shooting more cum down his throat. He shutters as it starts to fill up his belly. ‘Okay okay, that is enough man. I think you drained me dry now.’ Brice feels insanely horny now and wants to fuck the doctor so he pulls his shirt off and undoes his jeans to pull them down. ‘What are you doing Brice?’ Devin says. ‘I have to fuck you Devin, I don’t have a choice, I am compelled to fuck you.’ The doctor smiles at him and goes to lean over his desk awaiting Brice’s hard dick. Brice gets up and pulls his underwear off to shove his cock up inside the doctor. Orleans moans as Brice feels more energized now than before and thrusts in and out of him. The doctor moans a little louder as Brice feels his cum starting to build inside his balls. ‘Feels great Brice, fill me up if you want man,’ the doctor says as he is being shook. ‘Uhh here it comes doctor Orleans…..’ The spry patient thrusts every time he shoots a rope inside the doctor and moans. Devin laughs a little as he feels it moving up into his intestines. Brice slaps his ass a few times making his bubble butt shine in the light bright red. He pulls out of him not long after he stops cumming and sits in the leather chair again. Doctor Orleans sighs and goes to put his clothes back on. He sits down in his chair again and puts his arms on his desk. ‘Well, that was refreshing Brice,’ he says with his arms. ‘I think I am done with you at this point, I will give Doctor Darkori’s office a call and see if they can speed this process along.’ ‘Thank you so much doctor for your help, I feel a lot better now.’ Brice gets up to put his clothes back on and opens the office door. Devin’s nurses and patients in the lobby stare at Brice as he walks out of the office, all sweaty and red from the sex. He smiles as he gets into his car and goes back to his house. He goes back inside and his landline phone rings. He picks it up and the receptionist at Darkori’s office tells him that the doctor is ready to speak to him. Brice hangs up and gets back into his car to drive over to Darkori’s office. He walks in and the receptionist tells him to go ahead and go on back that the doctor will be waiting for him in the hall. As he enters, he sees the muscular red skin that he so wanted to touch again near the end of the hall. Halfway down, the doctor turns and gives Brice a big smile. His white teeth shine as his groomed beard and brown eyes make Brice swoon just a touch. The doctor puts his hand out to shake Brice’s. ‘Hello again Brice, nice to see you,’ he says as he puts his hand on Brice’s shoulder and leads him into an exam room. ‘Have a seat buddy so I can talk to you.’ Brice sits on the exam table like before and wonders if he will have a similar experience as before. ‘I know what you are thinking Brice, but this time will be different. I can sense that you have already had sex today.’ Brice looks down at his body and wonders how the doctor knows this. ‘I can actually smell it on you…..so Devin let you have some of his cum, hehe I am not surprised that happened.’ Brice starts asking Damien questions about why he has red skin and Doctor Orleans has regular skin, but has healing properties. ‘Well, Doctor Orleans had health problems too so I concocted a formula for him and now he is healthy. His cum is pretty potent I have to say, at least for the type of guy he is.’ ‘But why do you have red skin? I just want to know.’ Damien stands to lift his undershirt and walks over to Brice to let him feel his chest. ‘Just touch and feel my skin Brice.’ Brice puts his hand out and feels the texture and how different it is from his own. ‘You have no hair follicles on your body do you doctor? Well on your face, but that is strange.’ ‘It is true it is strange, but I am from a foreign place too.’ Brice seems genuinely intrigued by him. The doctor tells him he will be back in a minute to retrieve something. When he returns, he is not alone as a huge red-skinned man comes in with him. Brice stares at the hulking brute as he stands in the doorway. Damien smiles and puts a jar on the countertop behind him. ‘Brice let me introduce you to my brother Cain. He is also a doctor.’ Brice barely says anything as the massive man in front of him walks forward to shake his hand. ‘Hello Brice, glad to meet you. I know my appearance is shocking, but Damien invited me in today to work with you.’ Brice says softly, ‘to work with me……how?’ ‘Well, we worked together on that jar over there and finally came up with the right combination for your body. We just need to put a little bit more into it to make it strong enough to keep you healthy from now on,’ Cain calmly says. ‘So what you are saying is…..wait…..oh gawd…..really?’ Brice realizes that they mean more cum and whose are they referring to? ‘So what do I do doctors? Do I have to service one of you or what?’ Both Damien and Cain smile and drop their pants at the same time as their throbbing red cocks start dribbling precum. They both say, ‘both of us’ at the same time. The two red skinned doctors move closer in to where Brice is sitting as he has two huge cocks in his face and starts to slowly stroke them. ‘Am I going to regret this since I know what happened to you last time Damien?’ Brice says with anxiety. ‘No, should be alright this time man, at least I hope it is.’ Brice looks up at him with a worried look on his face as he continues to stroke them slowly. Cain puts his hand on Brice’s shoulder as he is being stroked and starts to growl lowly under his breath. Brice catches his thick pre and moans really loud. ‘OH GAWD THIS TASTES INCREDIBLE.’ He speeds up on Cain working him over and over trying to get him to feed him. ‘YEAH BUDDY, YOU WILL GET YOUR REWARD, OPEN WIDE!’ He sprays Brice’s throat with his solid cum and nearly knocks him back. Brice starts to shake wildly after consuming it. The Darkori’s wonder if this was such a good decision, but Brice stops shaking after a few seconds. He gets back up and smiles. ‘MMMMM it was so good doctor, you made me lose consciousness.’ Cain smiles and puts his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Brice works Damien over now making him start to buckle a bit. Cain tries to make Damien control his urges by talking to him. ‘Don’t let it take you over brother, I know you can control it.’ Damien starts to sweat like he did before, but Cain tries to distract him to keep him from ‘changing’. Brice can feel Damien’s load building as it starts to flow up into his cock. Damien yells as Cain wraps his arms around his waist to keep him from giving in to his need to grow. He shoots a massive load down Brice’s throat making the red doctor shake in agony as he feels a surge flowing through him. Brice finishes drinking his load and moves out of the way as Cain yanks Damien away to sit him in a chair. He can see that this may end up being troublesome and tells Brice to leave the room while he tries to calm his brother down. Brice rushes down the hall as he hears Cain yelling at Damien telling him to calm down and to not let the urges try to control him like they did with him. Brice seems intrigued that Cain would say something like this and realizes that Cain went through the same process and was permanently stuck in this giant unnatural looking body. After about five minutes, Brice is called back into the room as the two doctors sit across from each other. Cain has to sit in two chairs considering how huge he is. Damien is breathing extremely heavy and obviously was going through some growth spurt as his undershirt is ripped open and his lab coat has seams busted in it. Cain smiles and says that everything will be fine for now and that they need him to bust a load into the jar since he has both of their loads inside him. His mixed together with theirs will complete the serum and they can move forward with it. ‘So all I have to do is cum into that jar and you can complete the serum for me?’ Brice says to Cain. ‘Yes sir that is it. We would have it ready for you before you leave today.’ ‘Ummmm okay, I suppose I should get to it then.’ Brice undoes his pants and pulls his undies off to start jerking his cock as Cain puts the jar below him on the floor. As the white patient continues to jerk his cock, Cain lifts the lid and the contents begin to start swirling making Brice very nervous. ‘What the hell is going on……why is it moving like that?’ Cain tells him to relax and just continue. As he gets closer to cumming, the mixture begins to move up the jar closer to the opening. Brice begins to feel a strange aura around him as he continues to jerk off, he can’t seem to stop now as if he is being forced to continue. ‘YES CUM BRICE LET IT COME TO YOU!’ Cain seems to be summoning the mixture to the surface now. Brice begins yelling as he feels his cum pouring out of the piss slit. The mixture in the jar flies into the air and collides with his cum as it pushes its way into his cock. He screams in agony as the huge amount of liquid forces its way inside him. Cain laughs as Damien seems to be sweating again. Brice nearly loses consciousness as the mixture moves its way throughout his body. Cain walks over to him on the exam table and picks him up. He carries him into an area that hasn’t been seen before as Brice barely sees anything as his body is too tired to even react. Cain puts him in a holding cell and closes the door behind him. Brice finally passes out as his body begins to change on the inside.
  15. Brad awakens in the middle of the street of some town he has never been to before. He quickly rushes to the side of the road and sits on the curb anxiously wondering what the hell happened the night before. The man he saw change into a wolf must have dropped him off here for some reason. He quickly remembers that he was looking for Wade and gets up to compose himself. There are people walking around him and don’t seem to care that he is a bit out of sorts. He is also wearing clothes that aren’t his which makes him a bit uncomfortable. He turns to look inside the shop window from where he was laying before. There are two men standing there looking back at him which makes him wonder if they are friendly or not. He eventually decides to go inside the door to talk to them. One of them slowly moves to the back while the other one remains standing. He is a fairly small man, but he is dressed quite well in a white dress shirt and brown blazer and has on brown pants and brown boots. He has a well-kempt beard and brown eyes. Brad notices a scar along his neck and figures that this man is probably a were animal of some sort like Wade and that man from last night. ‘So…..do you have any idea how I got here today? I don’t remember anything from last night on.’ The man continues to stand silently staring at his baggy clothes. Before long, the man gestures for him to go to the back where the other man went. Brad nods and follows him to where the other man is. This man is a lot bigger and could pass for an animal in his own right. His huge back is all Brad sees until he turns around. His thick chest and gut glisten in the lights as Brad stares at the mountain of fur running from his legs up to his face. The man motions for him to sit down in a chair located by the bathrooms. Both men stand in front of him as they look at each other. The large one is wearing shorts that hug his giant quads as his package nearly hangs down. Brad can nearly see the man’s fat rod peeking from underneath. The man adjusts his cock as he realizes what the disoriented man is doing. He reaches down and pulls Brad’s baggy shirt off and sees the marks on his neck. Both men smile and shake their heads. ‘Yeah we can smell it in you. Hank here senses some bear flowing through you while I can sense the wolf.’ ‘Uhh okay? So you are both telling me that I have bear and wolf DNA inside me? Oh gawd!’ ‘You were obviously left in front of our doorstep for a reason man. Whoever it was knew that we would figure it out quickly. Me and Hank are converts too of different species. You however are a mixture of both.’ ‘So what do I do now? I am searching for a man…..his name is Wade. I really want to know what happened to him as well as what has happened to me.’ The two men grab chairs and sit down in front of Brad. The smaller one puts his hand out and wants Brad to do the same. Brad does and the man puts his in his. ‘Do you feel it man? We both have it flowing inside us. Yours may have a conflict with the other beast residing inside you. Let me have Hank grab your other hand.’ Hank reaches out and takes Brad’s other hand and clasps it. Brad feels extremely sick as both men close their eyes and focus their energy on Brad’s. He tries to let go of Hank’s hand, but he resists. He does manage to let go of the other man’s which makes him gasp for breath. Hank continues to focus on to Brad’s inner beast which makes him writhe in pain. The other man grabs a hold of Hank’s arm and pulls the two hands apart. The agonizing pain stops as Brad drips in perspiration. Hank laughs a little and leans over to lick the sweat off Brad’s chest. He moans a bit as Brad tries to get away from him. The other man tells him to stop terrorizing Brad because he isn’t ready yet. ‘Boys relax. I’m sorry we put you through this man, I wasn’t thinking. My name is Curtis in case you need to know. I think we have confirmed that you are definitely a hybrid. Hank will be hard pressed though to let you leave without something happening.’ Brad notices Hank’s engorged cock hanging out the side of his shorts. The giant pink head looks wet as it throbs. Curtis leans down and slides his pinky down Hank’s piss slit. The huge beastly man yells in agony as his partner fucks it with his finger. Brad looks hypnotized as he sees this happening. Hank pulls his shorts off and reveals his immense ass covered in thick fur to match the rest of his body. His firm ass though looks quite inviting to Brad as he feels his cock reacting. He hopes that he doesn’t do what Wade did when they had sex though. It seems like Curtis is using a more subtle approach to make Brad’s inner beasts come out as the whole experience of watching the small man performing such an unusual sex act on Hank is making Brad uneasy and he doesn’t know why. Curtis moves down to start sucking on his lover’s wet cock head after he removes his finger. The large beast growls in lust as his eyes turn black and his teeth fall out to reveal large fangs. Brad can notice something happening to Curtis too as he hears the man moaning in angst as his clothes begin to tighten. He can hear the man’s clothes begin to rip rather quickly as he notices both huge men beginning to transform. Hank’s face is changing shape as it gets rounder and starts to resemble a black bear but his chest is still like a human’s as he legs get even thicker as the black fur completely covers his skin. Curtis’s nice clothes are starting to fall apart as his red fur begins to expose his body. His mouth changes slightly as the wolfman grows thick fangs and ears on his head as his human ears fall off. Remarkably he continues to suck on his werebear’s thick rod which has thickened even further as it spills pre down his throat. The werewolf howls lightly as it continues to gobble down the juices flowing from the werebear’s cock. Brad wants to flee so badly but is compelled to continue watching their transformations. Curtis’s pants rip in a thousand places as his thin legs blow up into huge muscular hind quarters as a huge red tail goes flying out his growing back which has reduced his shirt to being a scarf. His hands and arms that are still around his werebear lover’s back have changed their shape as claws grow out of them and pierce the flesh making Hank growl in lust. It isn’t long before Curtis’s pants fall out revealing his wolf cock which is nice and thick and protruding from his sheath. Brad seems almost tempted to go pleasure it as something inside him is trying to push him towards it. Curtis is now howling because Hank is shooting a river of cum down his lover’s throat as it also spills out and down his lover’s muzzle. Brad’s breathing grows heavier as he tries desperately to keep his composure. He doesn’t have a fetish for beastiality, but the dangling cock on Curtis seems so inviting. The werewolf knows this too as his eyes keep turning to look at Brad. It finally pulls the bear cock out of its mouth and walks over to Brad. ‘NO PLEASE I DON’T WANT IT! Curtis if you can hear me I don’t want it.’ The werewolf actually smiles at him and appears to attempting some kind of speech. ‘…..you…..need…..pleasure…..give in…..beast…..you want this…..’ The wolfy Curtis gets up on its hind legs and puts its front legs on the wall behind Brad’s head. It’s wolf cock throbs a bit as it spills fluid on his leg. It reaches down like it is about to eat him, but ends up licking him on his neck where his last wound is. Hank moves over to Brad now and sits his huge humanlike cock on his right hand. The huge pink head instantly makes the shocked onlooker pet it which gets a deep moan out of the werebear. Wolfy Curtis inches his cock closer to Brad’s mouth which makes him start to sweat profusely knowing that it may make him lose control of his own inhibitions. The creature eventually pushes its cock on to Brad’s face where it throbs wildly and makes him start to tremble a bit. It leans its head in to give him a slight nibble growling a bit as Brad tries to resist. All the while he is stroking the bear’s thick meaty cock as it moans. ‘OH PLEASE GAWD CURTIS I CAN’T…..I know what you are doing but not now…..I can’t give in…..’ Brad’s grip on bearish Hank’s cock loosens as his arm shakes. He can feel things building inside him but tries desperately to keep it from progressing. Curtis begins to claw down the wall as he slides his paws down Brad’s shirt shredding it. Brad yells in pain as the werewolf digs into him drawing blood as he grabs the animal and tries to pull him off. He can’t budge him though as Curtis slowly leans down and chews on his shoulder. Brad starts to give in to the animal and can’t hold on anymore. Hank gets behind Curtis and enters the werewolf with his hard cock and starts fucking him as they both sense the change coming from within Brad. Brad’s bloodied chest and shoulder has distracted him to the point that the process is already starting from within him. The beastly couple growl and howl in anticipation of the new addition to the family. End of Part 3
  16. "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After NG "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - Inside Zaftig's Lab: The Musclemen Revealed Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. To start back at the beginning with Chapter One, click on the link below: "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped October 22nd, 2017 After the bout between Casey and Abdul, the musclemen retired to their separate corners of the compound. The vanquished Abdul, rivulets of dried cum caked to his physique, dragged Pedro along with him back to quarters. “Service me,” he growled. He threw open the door to his room and tossed Pedro onto the floor. Five minutes later, after a satisfying dump and a quick infusion of P21, Abdul was in the center of his room, working out on a speed punching bag hanging from the ceiling. His red, raw fists pummeled the stained leather furiously while Pedro gingerly danced around him, carefully washing the cum off his physique with a wet towel. Occasionally he leaned in and gingerly pressed a warm tongue against the muscle giant’s body, licking the cum-covered muscles respectfully, hoping not to get swatted away. It didn’t happen. Emboldened, he finished cleaning off his god. He took a deep breath, and grabbed ahold of Abdul's musclebutt. "Permission to worship?" he asked hopefully. Abdul grunted, and nodded slightly. Pedro deeply buried his face in the muscleman’s rock hard pillow glutes, feeling the heaviness of iron-like musclebutt cheeks violently knocking his head right and left as Abdul rhythmically punched the bag. This was what his god wanted. He knew this. Abdul said nothing, but slightly arched his back, to better extend his ass and receive the comfort of Pedro’s tongue up his butthole. They lasted like this long into the night, Abdul punching the bag with fury, Pedro probing his tongue deeply into his gyrating asshole, until Abdul reached back, grabbed Pedro by the back of the head, brought him violently around, threw him into the air and forced his massive penis into the teen’s small, hard butt. He fucked the boy mercilessly for about ten minutes, Pedro screaming happily with insane delight, his cries echoing down the corridor, as the giant member pleasurably pounded his butthole into raw meat. When he was near to climax, he pulled out and came about a quart all over Pedro’s writhing, grateful little bottom, grunting deeply as he shot, a bear in the woods. UNGH UNGH UGNH YEAH A moment later he push-kicked Pedro’s butt away. Pedro went sprawling, his hard little bottom covered with cum. “Get out of here,” he snarled, but with something like warmth, or so Pedro thought. “Yes, sir!” Pedro squeaked, and ran for the door. Abdul was asleep in 2 minutes. He dreamed only of revenge. Pedro scampered back to his room, where he masturbated gleefully for the next hour, envisioning a world of musclemen as he worked his pretty little cock into repeated starbursts of cum frenzy. He finally drifted into a woozy, muscle-filled sleep about 3 AM, knowing he’d have to be up by 6 to start breakfast with the compound chefs for the 19 musclemen. It was heaven. He was living in heaven. Lang and Alvarez drifted back to Alvarez’s room, where they posed-and-approved for about 45 minutes before falling asleep on the dais, Alvarez’s cock languidly filling Lang’s mouth, their ripped posers discarded and on the floor. Schumacher, Jin, Washington, Obatu and LeFevre carried the knocked-out Blankenship to his room. Fortunately, P-21 strengthened bones, too, and Blankenship’s black and blue jaw was okay – otherwise, it might well have been shattered by the force of Abdul’s powerful punch. They retired separately to their rooms and reflected on what they’d seen tonight. This Rockland kid was a threat. In their separate quarters all five men jerked off, and thought. And thought. And jerked off. Hearing Pedro’s echoing, ecstatic cries as he was being masterfully buttfucked by Adbul, each man shot muscle cum up and out into the dark, splashing onto their abs, the floor, the ceiling, everywhere. Blankenship, of course, was out for the night. Deep in his knocked cold sleep, he dreamt vaguely of doing endless sets of curls. And squats. Especially squats. He smiled in his sleep, two teeth missing. Tiffany, smug and satisfied and unaware his life was about to drastically change, drifted off. He remembered Casey from the world outside, but it was clear the big dumb muscleboy didn’t remember him. Yet. Eli Meyer, quietly determined to get off on real muscle, and not just fantasy, followed Hension back to his room. He knocked on the door, and Hension, startled, opened up. Meyer smiled. He went in. For the next hour the two men took turns with some heavy butt fucking. In turns, each muscleboy’s big dick met the other’s hard glutes and sweetly receiving butthole as they fucked each other silently in the dark. Finally Hension spoke, even as Meyer ploughed him. “Stinkface me,” he said, emphasizing the words, turning his head back and to the side so that the deaf Meyer could read his lips. It was all he said. It was all he had to say. Meyer nodded agreement, pulled his thick cock out of Hension’s butthole, got up and squatted down onto Hension’s handsome face, burying him in striated, iron glutes. He rotated and jerked his big dick. A few minutes later both men came, cum splashing sloppily onto Hension’s ripped abs, pooling in the deep valleys of muscle. And five minutes after that, both were curled up and asleep on the floor, wrapped deeply into each other’s muscles. In their separate quarters, McIntyre and Duncan, ever quiet and reflective, sat up awhile and listened to the compound’s nocturnal moans and gasps, punctuated by the sounds of the speed bag, and then the butt fucking drifting down the corridors. Finally each man reached into his pouch and jerked off again before hitting the hay. Gunst headed right to the gym. He tooled himself through a punishing biceps workout, doing curls long into the night, then flexing and inspecting. Gotta get these guns bigger, he grumbled to himself. Eventually he crawled off to quarters and to bed, and without jerking off. The others – Chad, Bogarde, and Waring – stood in a darkened corner of the hallway leading from the wrestling room, hungrily sucking one another’s cocks and taking turns butt fucking for an hour or so, before turning in for the night. And in the backs of the minds of all the men on campus were visions of the perhaps-perfect newest member of the club, the young bodybuilder whose gigantic, ripped and raw physique they had gotten their first taste of this evening. Moster, in his quarters, was satisfied. He slept without dreaming. He had to pick up Casey in the cadet dorms mid morning, and bring him back up the hill to his new muscle life. Unaware of the muscle sex going on in the compound behind him, and unaware of how his muscles started it all, a shuttle bus took sole passenger Casey back down the hill the two miles to the cadet dorm near the front gates, where he had been living and training the last two years. ************* Early the next morning, after his usual early morning workout and a breakfast of two steaks, 6 eggs, unbuttered toast, a quart of yogurt and 3 cups of black coffee, Casey went back to his room and packed his few possessions in preparation for his move up the hill to the main compound. His black eye still stung from the night before, but it also looked – well – incredibly hot. Or so Casey thought, inspecting it closely in his mirror. There were six other cadets in the dorm. Five of them gathered to quietly watch him pack up his few belongings, giving him congratulations and good luck and a sad little goodbye party. It was just a few protein bars, a colorful do-rag, a new gym bag (which they all chipped in on) and five slightly torn oversized XXXL-sized jockstraps. Casey knew they went to some trouble to get everything together. He was deeply grateful. But he didn’t know what to say. In truth, Casey hadn’t really gotten to know any of his fellow cadets in the two years he had been in residence in the cadet dorm. It was not from any snobbery, but from shyness and his natural reticence against intimacy in dormitory settings. All the same, apart from Miles Donovan and Ramon Ramon, Casey counted them as among his few friends in the world. “I’m gonna miss you guys,” he said. He sniffed a little. These guys were like him. Lonely, nice boys who had nowhere to go except the gym, and nothing to do but pound their bodies every day, growing big muscles. Over 1450 pounds of burgeoning, testosterone-fueled teen muscle gathered in 10 x 16 square foot room. And there was a lot of emotion in the air. Casey was their hero, and at 310 pounds, and at just 18 years of age, he was already far and away the biggest of all of them. Something had to happen. “You been ready a long time for those dudes,” said Cadet Tommy Rowenstein, a tousled blond middleweight Jewish Tom Sawyer of muscleboy who liked to work on his pecs. “Surprised they didn’t ask you long ago.” “Guess they know best when I’m ready.” “That how you got the shiner, Case?” “Shut up, dick wad.” “Can we come up the hill visit you?” asked Alan Owenbee, a sweet-faced young cadet with a friendly face and a slightly sub par physique that all knew would never develop much further. “Naw, we can’t go up there,” said Cadet Brent Ogden. “You know the rules. Plebes only by invitation. And they never invite us.” He sounded forlorn. “Sure,” said Casey. “You can come. I’ll ask. I’ll get permission. You can all come. We can all train together up there in the big gym.” “Gee, you think? Really??” “Shit, thanks, Case!” “Yeah, thanks!” The boys couldn’t believe the possible good news, and were now almost bouncing with excitement. “I’m gonna work on my guns with ya!” shouted Ogden. The others glanced at Ogden and grinned. An angel-faced kid with red hair, he had nice big muscles for a 15-year old, and surprisingly ripped abs, already weighing in at 185 pounds. He also had a complete inability to filter his speech. They all suspected he was a little slow. “At last, someone even dumber than me, “ Casey thought. No one knew whether or not he had any family; like Casey, Ogden was a foundling. Casey tousled his hair affectionately and zipped up his duffel. “I’ll always work on my guns with you, Brent.” Ogden grinned from ear to ear, his life made. He grew beet red with embarrassment and pleasure and spent the next few minutes inspecting his own biceps, flexing and unflexing them thoughtfully. Another cadet with more promise, and lot more self confidence, Brian Banks, a handsome black-haired extra lean 1950s greaser type turned bodybuilder, watched Casey from the corner, perched on the window seat, his deep-lidded dark eyes half closed. “So, Case, what happened last night?” “I’m not sure yet.” He turned and looked helplessly at all of them. They were waiting for some kind of an answer. “Yeah, Case, what happened?” He knew all the cadets admired and respected him. Overall, they were a pretty good bunch of guys, even if for the most part they had no muscle future. But he could use some friends, if last night’s wrestling match had been any indication of where this was all headed. And he was still thinking about last night. Those bodybuilders up the hill were a wild and crazy bunch. Huge, every one of them, the biggest musclemen Casey had ever seen, or even imagined. And even the younger guys, like that pretty-faced dude Hension, the mute Eli Meyer, and the wide-eyed Lang, seemed to have agenda of their own. And then there was that big mean bull, the Turkish guy, Karim Abdul. And Schumacher, who had growled at him and threatened him. Scary dudes. But hot. The wrestling was fun, though, when he thought about it. Casey had surprised at himself, at how skilled he was, how strong and fast. But then he had learned a lot from Ramon Ramon at Miles Donovan’s, and though Ramon was 3 times his age and far smaller, Ramon could always beat him. So he learned from the best. And – true – a few times when Casey shot his load on the wrestling mat after a bout, Ramon Ramon had joined him. There was something fun, something special about the tough, grizzled old daddy Latin wrestler happily pounding his hairy big meat, lying there next to Casey on a slick, sweat-drenched, stinky wrestling mat. And Casey knew Ramon was straight. No sissy, he. Straight straight straight, with a hot, mean, pretty little wife he fucked hard every night, or so he said. Casey had no reason to doubt him. I wonder how Abdul would do wrestling with Ramon? Casey wondered. And then, after all, all the bodybuilders had shot their loads all over the two of them last night at the end of the wrestling match, all over him and Abdul. He hadn’t expected that. Was it an insult? Or an honor? Casey was still having trouble taking it all in. And what about that punch that Abdul threw at Blankenship? It was awesome. Abdul’s fist shot out like a cannon, catching the handsome, smirking bodybuilder Blankenship right on the point of the chin. Probably broke his jaw. The guy’s feet never touched the ground. He just flew into the air and landed about 20 feet away. And then there was afterwards, with Moster closely inspecting his dick and that little ginger muscledude Tiffany sucking it just to find out how big it really was. Measuring dick size by mouth. It was all pretty weird. And he never even did get to do even a basic posing routine. He wanted to show these guys how much he liked to pose. Maybe he could pose for them later today? Casey really liked to pose. He did it for hours, alone in his room, peering into his crummy full-length mirror, looking for any improvements, and weaknesses, any new veins, any new striations, any sign of lingering babyfat. He wasn’t used to an audience. Casey had never known many people, and he certainly had never competed onstage, even though Miles Donovan had encouraged him to consider it. And now that he had trained hard, lived for training and diet and posing for so many years, now with the Home behind him and all the bullies, he was ready for others to see how big his muscles were. He was ready to pose for admirers. For a crowd. He hadn’t done that yet. So maybe these guys would accept him more if he posed for them? The babyfat was long gone, after all. And he was sure he could learn a few things, too. Maybe get some pointers from that dude Alvarez. He heard that Alvarez and Lang were always practicing their posing. But in any event, Casey now knew, after last night, that just having big muscle wasn’t enough. A big cock was pretty important, too. For the first time he was beginning to feel relieved, even joyful about his huge member. He had always been so embarrassed about it, he could never hide it, it was always prominent in his jeans, in whatever he wore. People could always see it flopping around in his pants, pushing out his fly in an obscene bulge. And he hadn’t found posing trunks that he really fit in yet. Not trunks, at least, that he wasn’t always popping out of, or worse, ripping the fabrics to shreds with his first big hardon. And posing usually gave him a hardon, which he’d have to stop and take care of. He'd shoot pints of milky thick cum against his mirror, and then he'd have to stop and get a roll of paper towels to clean it al up before he could start again. Or else he wouldn't have been able to see his reflection. And the sight of his muscles was what made him cum so ferociously. It would certainly be a challenge onstage, if he ever decided to compete. He had bought a few posers from online, trying them out, checking for the right colors. But so far, everything he had bought was just so….well….ridiculously inadequate. He hadn’t even begun to think about colors. Even if he managed to get the posers up his treetrunk quads, there was no way the simple kiddie-type pouches were able to cover his hefty manfruit. To say nothing of containing his coconut-sized balls. Still. Even so. “Good thing I got this big meat after all. I guess.” He muttered to himself as he walked, bowlegged as always with his bodybuilder waddle, over to the mirror. The cadets watched him as he walked across the small dorm room. “Hunh?” “What’s that, Casey? About your meat?” Ogden looked up, still inspecting his biceps, but suddenly alert to what was going on in the room. Casey looked back at them and pointed down to the sagging bulge that loomed out of the front of his baggies. “I said, it’s a good thing I got this super big meat. All the guys up there are hung huge. It’s important to them. Sergeant Moster showed me.” He thought for a moment. Maybe those dudes knew where to get posers that actually fit? Or maybe they had them made privately? Probably they did. They had to. And certainly from the layout of the place and the size of the gym and the wrestling room, they could afford a few extra yards of reinforced spandex to hold in a few giant cocks. Banks was studiedly casual. He inspected Casey’s black eye a little more closely and nodded, as if a question was answered. “Unh hunh. Bet he did. I heard about Sergeant Rod Moster. Seems he was there too. He give you that black eye?” “Yeah, he’s the dude in charge. He was there. And no, he didn’t give this to me.” Casey turned back and gazed at his package in the mirror. He repeated. “I had to fight one of them.” “Who?” asked Owenbee, breathless and getting hard now. “Abdul. Karim Abdul.” He paused. “You should see him this morning.” “He got a big package, too?” Casey colored, embarrassed. “Yeah, he does. I mean, I didn’t see it. Well, I didn’t see it well. I mean, I didn’t see it close up….” He stopped, confused. The guys were looking at him. “Well, one thing, these are the biggest goddam dudes I ever saw in my life.” “Lookin’ good?” “Fucking awesome. All of them. Moster’s like 7’ tall. No bodyfat. Biceps the size of my head. And…” “Big package?” “Yeah. He has the biggest dick. They say it’s the biggest dick on earth.” Casey turned back and began to flex for himself feverishly in the mirror. He had to get bigger. Banks liked Casey well enough and would miss him in the dorms. Even if the young muscle giant was a little dopey and innocent. Okay, Casey was stupid. Everyone knew it. Dumb as a bag of hammers. But a sweet guy, if you didn’t get on his wrong side. And besides, he’d also long had eyes for Casey’s astonishingly rounded, rock hard glutes, never mind the cock, and now knew he probably wasn’t gonna dip his stick inside the promised land of Casey’s musclebutt for a long time to come. If ever. Or even suck his dick. Maybe some day. Oh, well. Still, he wished Casey well. He was a good dude. He’d stand up for him any time. Now he stood behind him, watching his superwide batwing lats as he posed in the mirror, watching his perfect big round rolling glutes quivering a little in the seat of his stretched-tight pants. “I hear there’s a lot of sex in the main compound,” he said slyly. “Yeah, I guess there is.” Casey slowed down posing, caught Banks’ eye in the mirror, was a little circumspect. Not that he knew what the word meant, but that is what he was at that moment. “No chicks, though?” “No, I guess there ain’t. I didn’t see any last night.” Casey blew out a blast of air, followed by a honk of laughter. The tension eased. He grabbed his duffel and turned around towards the boys. “No chicks!” “Good!” said Ogden, still inspecting his biceps. “Guess I’m big enough. Thanks for the party, guys,” he added. “And the, um….” He gestured to his duffel bag. “….the extra jockstraps…..I can always use them.” “Actually, two of them were already yours. We just re-retrieved them from….somebody…” said Rowenstein. Owenbee turned crimson with shame and embarrassment. “Hey. Thanks. Alan, you were always a good friend. Here. Wait a moment.” Casey put his duffel down, lifted his heavy sweatshirt and kicked out of his baggies, stepping out of them fast and surprisingly easily over his big feet. “I have to get these off fast sometimes, so I cut out the, you know, drawstrings around the pants legs, to make it easier to fit over my shoes. Sometimes I don’t have a lot of time before…..” His voice trailed off. “You know.” Banks nodded, feigning seriousness. “We know.” All the cadets knew that sometimes during workouts Casey suddenly had to shoot a load, and to avoid coating his baggies with splotches of his unusually heavy, copious cumspurts, he ripped off his sweatpants and shot into a bucket that he kept on the side of the gym floor. By the end of the workout, the bucket was often half full. A few of the boys would often sneak away with it afterwards, loving the scent, loving the taste, drinking it all down, hoping it would make them grow into a muscle monster like Casey. “Yeah. We all know,” said Ogden. Owenbee and Rowenstein both nodded seriously. “Yeah, you got a problem, dude.” Rowenstein couldn’t help chuckling a little. “Big problem.” Then they both grinned, their smooth boyish faces lighting up. “I know.” Casey smiled. “So why is it, by the way, all this time I been here, that so many of my jocks go missing?” Shuffling of feet. Heads down. “Aw, Case…..” said Ogden. He stood before them in his sagging, bulging jock. “This one is new, I just got it.” All knew he had to order his jocks and posers online. Standard sizes just didn’t fit, and then the posers just didn’t last. “Here.” He curled his thumbs around the reinforced jock straps on his loins and tugged. His cock popped out and hung free, 10 solid inches of soft thick swaying girth. “Jesus,” breathed Owenbee. Banks was impressed. Ogden just panted. He pulled his new jockstrap down over his massive quads and stepped out of it carefully, lifting each big, smooth foot slowly, and then handing it to Owenbee. “You always been a good friend to me.” Casey teared up a little, but wasn’t so sentimental that he didn’t playfully waggle his penis’ full 10 inch soft, flaccid weight, then whipping it heavily from side to side. Smack! Smack! For a moment he slapped it heavily from quad to quad, and then looked up at Owenbee and Ogden and smiled sweetly. “It’s too big for most jocks,” he explained. “Yes, we’ve noticed,” said Banks, very serious. Owenbee took the jock gratefully, raised it to his nose and took a deep whiff. In his jeans his young teen cock throbbed to life. “Gee, thanks, Casey!” “Don’t mention it.” Casey pulled his baggies back up, covering his cock. “Going commando, Case?” asked Banks. Casey looked at him blankly. “I don’t know what that means.” “You will.” Casey shrugged, and sat down to lace his shoes. “Guess I better be going. Say goodbye to Danny Taylor. Where’s he this morning?” “His mama called. She wanted him back in Santa Barbara. He’ll be back tonight. He said to say goodbye.” He eyed the heavy sagging bulge in Casey’s lap. His cock was aching to get back out again, taste the air, straining the crotch of his sweatpants, pointing downward but twitching, threatening to rise, bulging in the fabric every which way. Banks sniffed a little, seemingly unconcerned, but Casey knew Banks probably missed his buddy Danny, the only cadet in the squad who actually came from a family and a good home. A blond surfer-dude turned bodybuilder, Danny and Brian were always pumping together and then going out looking for girls and to get laid. And unlike The Nineteen up the hill, the young cadets, still not indoctrinated into the squad, could come and go as they pleased. Not that these young muscleboys had anywhere to go….other than the gym and the bars in nearby San Jose, or maybe further up the coast to San Francisco. “Well…..goodbye then. Come and see me.” “Hey, dude. Before you go….give us one last flex?” asked Ogden shyly. “Yeah, dude. Pose for us one more time,” said Owenbee. “Like you used to do before you got so serious.” “Yeah, Case. Go ahead. Let’s see what you got.” That from Banks. Casey looked closely at Banks. “Sure, guys. Yeah. Be glad to.” He stepped back into the room and ripped off his sweatshirt. The muscle cadets crowded around him eagerly. He stood shirtless, his huge muscles gleaming in the morning light. “Here goes. Pow,” said Casey. He flexed a huge right arm bicep and moved his left hand back to the back of his head, ‘doin’ hair’ like the young Tom Platz from 40 years ago. “Wow!” “Jeez, Case, yer bigger than ever!” “Fuckin huge, man!” “That’s “doin’ hair,” dudes. Platz. ‘Doin’ hair,’ ” he repeated. “Can I feel it?” ‘My hair?” “No, dude….” “He wants to feel your muscles, Casey,” Banks explained, with exaggerated patience. “Oh. Sure.” Casey thought a moment. “Yeah! Sure! Come on!” Owenbee stepped forward eagerly and grabbed Casey’s biceps. His fingers ran over the vascular triple-heads. “Sure is nice!” he yelled. “How big?” He tapped the hardness of the peaks with his fingers, which bounced back. Impenetrably hard. “I don’t know. 25 inches? 27? I don’t know. Here come some big pecs.” He gave them a side chest, popping his pecs, his pouty brown nipples pointing down to the carpet. “Boom,” said Casey. “Wow! Frigging huge!” “You’re swole, man!” “Yeah, I got big pecs,” said Casey modestly, turning his head back, inspecting his two huge pectoral globes in the mirror. He bounced them up and down thoughtfully. “May I lick your nipples, Casey?” squealed Ogden. Casey was confused a moment. He stopped and turned and looked quizzically at Ogden. For a moment the two muscleboys were afraid, afraid that Casey would start handing out a roomful of black eyes and broken noses, powerful punches that were sure and methodical and swift and punishing. But Banks wasn’t afraid. “You like this, dontcha Case?” It didn’t happen. “Sure, I guess. Yeah. I like it. Come on up and lick ‘em. I never got licked and touched when I posed before. Let alone watched.” He thought some more. “Guess I do like it! Can you reach? Here’s another. Bam,” he said, swinging into a front lats pose. “Bam and double bam.” Ogden scampered up, reached wide, grabbed Casey by both lats and began eagely to lick his nipples. “You got awesome pecs, dude!” “You’re strong, too,” said Banks calmly. “Those dudes up there on the hill as strong as you?” “Yeah, I think they are.” Casey was inspecting his front lats pose in the mirror. “You’re in my way,” he said to Ogden. “I can’t see.” “Sorry, Case!” “Just move to the side a little so I can check myself out.” Ogden quickly stepped aside and leaned in, licking one nipple. “Okay, that’s enough. Reach around if you have too.” “How thick is your neck, Case?” “About 25 inches I think.” “How about your quads?” “Sure.” Casey pumped and rotated his thighs, still covered up in the baggies. “Oh, I forgot. Guess you can’t see.” He rolled them down to his ankles and stood in the center of the room, his pants down, flexing for his buddies. His penis loomed heavily over mountains of muscle and veins as he pensively rotated his quads for all the muscleboys to see. The muscleboys licked their lips. “No, I mean, how big are they?” “I dunno. 33 inches? Never measured.” He rotated a huge quad slowly, staring intently at it. “Got some new veins popping in here. Look at that diamond shape. Hard.” He slapped his quads, both of them. “They’re hard, man! See how hard I am? You guys see it?” Banks eased his nicely rounded butt off the window seat, where he’d been perched, watching the proceedings. He strolled over to Casey, thumbs hooked in his tight jeans, his black spandex t-shirt rippling with extra lean, hairy muscle. His own appreciable bulge flopped lazily from side to side in his fly as he walked slowly towards Casey. “Dude, I think you like to get worshipped.” “Hunh?” Casey turned to him and whipped up a pair of double bi’s. “Check out these gunsssss……” “I see ‘em.” Banks patted them firmly. Yeah. Solid. Cannonballs. Triple-headers. Laced with thick veins. He kneaded solid muscle between calloused thumb and finger. He pulled. Paper-thin skin. “These are biceps…. “ said Casey, breathing heavy, loving every second of it. “Nice. They are. Big biceps. Very nice indeed. But my tastes run to….something……darker……” He knew all about Moster. That was the dude he wanted. Banks turned to Ogden, absorbed in licking Casey’s big brown nipples. “Whyn’t you lick his biceps too, dude? He said he likes to get licked.” He turned to Casey. “Dontcha, Case?” “I’m gonna pop you right in the eye,” Casey said, but he smiled. He flexed mightily. “C’mon, lick ‘em.” His steely fists strained red. Suddenly he longed to punch Banks in the eye. Give him a big black eye. No, two black eyes. He wasn’t mad. He just wanted to punch him. “Yeah, lick his biceps, dude. And kiss ‘em for us, Case.” “Hunh??” “Kiss your biceps, bro! G’wan, kiss ‘em!” “Why do I want to do that?” “Try it and see. See how it feels.” Casey shrugged. His traps bounced up a little and bumped Owenbee’s head, who was trying to lean in to get a closer feel on Casey’s bi’s. “Oh. Sorry.” Meanwhile Ogden was now licking his right biceps, so Casey turned to the left and, leaning in while raising an elbow, began to softly lick and kiss his bulging cannonball bi’s. Casey forgot all about wanting to punch Banks and continued flexing. Hmmm. The licking felt good. “This feels good,” he announced. He kissed himself again, and turned, grinning cockily to Banks. “Guess I won’t bust you in the eye right now.” Banks smiled. He understood. “It’s okay, Casey. I’m your friend. You can trust me. And the boys.” “But I still wanna slug you.” “You just want to slug somebody. Not me.” “Guess you’re right. But sometime soon I’m gonna start some slugging.” He flexed. “Look at these big gunnnnssss….” he repeated. By now the other four cadets were grouped around Casey, touching, feeling, pawing, stroking, kissing and licking every muscle they could reach, climbing over him, feeling him, all while remaining respectfully distant from the heavily looming cock. Owenbee got on his knees and knelt before Casey’s massive, exposed rear, began caressing the twin globes of Casey’s monster round, hard butt, feeling where the gluteus muscles rolled in, where they bulged out, where they lead down to mammoth obtruding hamstrings and up to the small of his back. He wanted to bury his young, smooth face into the deep buttcrack, but knew he’d better not. He wanted to lick it, too. But he knew that might not be a good idea, either. Not yet, anyway. So he contented himself just to do deep tissue massage on the two giant round butt orbs before him, following their rolling movements as Casey posed above him. It was like kneading iron. But he loved it. “How do you feel, Case?” Banks was stroking Casey’s broad upper pec shelf with a connoisseur’s appreciation. “Good. I feel very good. I like flexing for you guys.” “Good. And we like when you flex for us. Nice pecs.” Banks flicked one of Casey’s nipples with a thumb and forefinger. Casey responded, immediately ballooning his pecs hugely, digging his fists into solid rippled obliques and expanding chest muscles high to the skies, so it seemed, to the ceiling and beyond. “This is called worship, by the way,” Banks added. “The way the guys are touching you now. The way I am touching you.” He ran a smooth hand across his pecs and looked him deeply in the eyes. “Admiring you. Admiring your muscles. Getting off on your muscles. That’s worship.” “You’re huge, Case,” said Ogden. “Big fucking muscleman,” said Owenbee. “Awesome muscles, dude,” said Rowenstein. “Tell us what you’re thinking, Case,” said Banks. Casey didn’t know what he was thinking. Was he even thinking? He was just flexing. No, he was thinking. He was seeing….something. Something distant. Pure and good. He breathed out, let out a massive block of air, crunched up, sucked in, intake, breath, blew it out, then more blooming muscle. Expanding everywhere, blowing up, hard and solid and good. He was… …..where was he?.... “Tell us, Case,” repeated Banks softly. “Where are you?” “On the moon, I guess.” He sucked in, expanded his pecs again, turned, inadvertently pushing the boys to the floor, looked in the mirror. The room was quiet. The muscle cadets scrambled away a little, but still touching, still feeling muscle. Tension increased in the room. It was silent except for the sounds of heavy breathing. Casey began to move. He swung from pose to pose. His cock swayed heavily as he moved, slapping his quads. Front biceps. Side chest, front lat spread. Most muscular, the famous crab shot, his veins exploding everywhere, his enormous fists clenched, held steadily before him. “Hold that one,” said Banks. “I think we all want to see this one.” Casey held still. His face grew red, then redder, then beet-red. The veins on his thick neck popped out like huge pylons. And even his massive cock began to retreat a little up into his loins as his blood was needed elsewhere. “Guys? Let’s check out these veins. Okay, Case?” “…yeah…..okay…” “You can breathe, though.” “Okay, thanks.” He breathed in and out. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, searching for flaws, admiring rivers of vascularity, popping iron muscles. “Just don’t relax. Keep flexing. Keep that pose. Keep crunching.” “Can I take your picture, Case?” asked Rowenstein, begging a little. “My picture….?” Casey blew out air. He could barely think. He was just dreaming now. It was a wall, a planet, a universe of his muscle. “Keep crunching. Keep it swole,” said Banks quietly. He touched an iron biceps. “Yeah, okay.” Casey seemed befuddled, but it was because of the most muscular pose, and ….well…because he was still dreaming, now on that distant planet somewhere, where it was all about……muscle. His muscle, to be specific. Where he was posing high on a mountain, still visible to all, to thousands below, thousands of admiring men in the valley beneath him, all calling his name, all playing with their giant tools, their cum spurting and flying, the sun behind him, sweat in his eyes - “A picture. My cellphone? For, um, ….later?” “Later?” Casey barely heard him. “Yeah, later. To admire you later…..whenever I want to…..” The dream was broken for a moment and there was Rowenstein, shrugging and smiling, red-faced, embarrassed. Crab shots were his thing. He loved the solid billboard of muscle and veins. Exploding muscle and veins. “Oh, yeah. Yeah. Sure.” Casey saw Rowenstein’s cock was now poling forward in his khakis. “Made you hard, man?” “Yeah, you did. You do.” Rowenstein grinned toothily and admitted it happily. He pulled out his mobile and began snapping. Relieved, the muscle cadets groped in their pants pockets, next to their now-bulging flies, pulled out cellphones, and, never relaxing, never letting up even a finger on Casey’s massive musculature, began taking pictures. Casey went back to his mountain on his planet. He flexed. He was a god. He knew it. He wanted the universe to see him, to touch him, to admire him, to kneel before him, to reach up to him, to admire his strength, to touch his muscles, to stroke his chest, lick his nipples….. ….to worship him….. ….to suck his dick. Yes, that is what he wanted. He wanted the world to suck his cock. He nodded. That’s what he wanted. Like that hot mean little muscle dude Tiffany did last night. No one had done that before. Now he knew. Yes, and now he knew. Was this why he did it? Why he lifted? Why he had built his physique into the huge muscle sculpture it was now? No, of course not. Not entirely. He wanted to be the biggest and strongest man in the world. That’s what he wanted. But getting his dick sucked at the same time would be a nice perk. Again, he blew up his pecs to their fullest. Twin globes of pure muscle. Boom! Boom! He felt his buddies’ hands all over him. He was dizzy with lust and young muscle. He wanted to flex for everyone, his dick to throb and spurt and explode inside vanquished mouth after vanquished mouth, his long thick shaft gliding between adoring lips, plunging down dozens of supplicant throats, gagging them all with his cock girth and his cum, gagging the world with his giant man meat as he flexed mountainous biceps. He wanted to cover the faces of hundreds of men with his cum. Coating them all. Then fucking butt. Fucking hundreds of butts while he flexed. This was his planet. That is what he wanted. He never realized it before. But he did now. The muscle cadets were all over him, stroking him, rubbing him, feeling his muscles, inspecting his veins. Check out these striations, he heard one of them say. Yeah, these veins are thick as pencils. No, thicker. His skin is so thin. Check out these abs, they’re like cinder blocks. No, harder. This okay, Casey? Yeah, it’s okay. Feel me. Touch me. Check out my muscles. Suck my dick. He started to say it. The cadets seemed to anticipate it. The breathing in the room grew heavier. And heavier. And suddenly one of the muscleboys moaned. Ayyyy Ugnnnhhhh…. And then another. Casey closed his eyes and flexed…. Oh Yeah LOOK AT MY MUSCLES DUDES And then another low cry Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! And then he felt it himself. He felt the liquid start…..it was happening… YEAH YEAH YEAH No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t happening. The room was suddenly sharply quiet. He opened his eyes. It had all stopped. The boys had stepped back. No one was touching him. The worship had stopped. “You ready to go, Casey?” Casey was shocked out of his dream. He turned and stood, staring. His massive cock brushed the mirror as he turned. Rod Moster was at the open door, smiling. He wore his sweats, but even they didn’t conceal his 7’- 0” frame, his nearly 400 pounds of super wide muscle. His veiny relaxed biceps rolled out of his sleeves with nearly 25 inches of unflexed power, 30 when flexed. His quad veins were so thick the boys could see them through his sweatpants. And that wasn’t all they could see. The outline of his flaccid cock bulged lazily down his right leg, extending almost to his knees. The boys stared. “Who is that??” “He’s like a fucking god,” said Owenbee. Banks stepped forward, his eyes now half closed, a small smile on his face. “Sergeant Moster,” said Banks politely. “Greetings.” He saluted crisply, smiled. The muscle cadets stared at the giant, handsome black bodybuilder. “Shit,” said Ogden, “no one is that big.” “He is,” said Rowenstein. “Thank you, Cadet. You’re Banks?” “Yes, sir. Aye, aye, sir.” “Am I interrupting something?” “We’re just saying goodbye, sir,” said Banks, relaxed, crisp and smooth and confident. Casey smiled weakly. “Yeah.” “Put some clothes on, Casey.” Silence in the room. Casey looked down and realized he was naked and that his huge member was poling straight out and up what seemed to be 2 feet or more, as if ready to shoot. Precum was dribbling down the long, thick shaft and onto the floor. And he looked around his room, and saw all the tented, bulging flies of all the teen muscle cadets, their pants increasing with stain, their cocks now receding. Every one of them. Except Banks. His cock still poled out straight ahead in his pants, but his fly was dry, bulging with unleashed power. He'd been able to control himself. And Banks was not embarrassed. Moster took note silently. Hmmm. “Bye, Casey. Maybe we’ll see you at the compound? If Sergeant Moster will allow us in?” Owenbee was hopeful. Moster frowned. “We’ll see,” he said, non-committal. “Um. Yeah. Okay. Bye, guys.” Casey bent and grabbed his clothes, beet red, mortified. Was this the way to show himself on the most important morning of his life? Naked and flexing and about to shoot and filled with fantasies and dreams? And, it might be added – late??? Late for a military CO? He wasn’t even IN the military, and he felt completely humiliated. He struggled for his baggies, reached for his shoes, looked around in vain for at least one of his oversized jocks. And he hadn’t even packed up his laptop or his prized personal collection of vintage muscle magazines yet. “I’m really sorry, sir,” he blurted, moving clumsily around the room as the teens scrambled to step clear of the confused young bull. “I guess I’m not ready to go.” “You do want to move up the mountain to the main compound?” “Oh, yes, sir!” “Well, then, get yourself ready to go. I won’t wait for you long. I’ll be downstairs in the van. Take a few minutes, and get yourself together. I'll wait five minutes. After that, if you want to move up the mountain, you're going to have to walk.” He smiled, suddenly surprisingly kind. He looked around the room of awestruck boys, and smiled. “And if all you cadets keep training hard, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you all up at the compound sometime soon.” He looked pointedly at Banks. “Especially you.” “Turn around.” Banks complied, turning around. Moster gazed, eyes half-lidded, at Banks’ impressively shaped glutes, nicely packed inside tight pants. “Yes. Keep doing those squats, boy. Good flanks.” His fingers twitched a little. There would be a nice session of spanking this smart-mouthed handsome muscle boy’s hard little muscle bottom sometime in the very near future. He'd wake him up. Banks’ eyes twinkled. He knew what Moster was thinking about. It was okay with him. "I'll look forward to meeting you again, sir." They shared a quick look of understanding. Moster smiled slightly, an eyebrow cocked. Then he nodded briefly to the others. “At ease, men.” And then he was gone. The boys were still a moment, listening to Moster’s steps retreating down the corridor. The distant outer door opened and closed. A moment of awed silence. Then the boys scrambled back to life. “Jesus!” “He’s HUGE.” “Guys! I gotta bounce!” Boytown muscle chaos as the cadets dove around the room, gathering Casey’s bags and toiletries and clothes and laptop, throwing everything in a heap. “Get my muscle magazines!” “Where are they?” Rowenstein asked, looking a little frantic. “The closet. There’s a box. Four boxes. I need them!” The boys scoured the room, gathering their hero’s possessions. “We got your back, Case,” said Banks, smiling. Casey stopped a moment and looked into Banks’ eyes. Then he smiled. “I know you do, dude. I know.” ****** NEXT CHAPTER: "The Twenty" Chapter 15 - Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster
  17. Omiganda

    Bear's Cub Part 14

    A few days ago, I figured out how to end this story. Funny this has still been left unfinished for atleast 2 years. I wrote this pretty fast so apologies for the mispelling. Part 13: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5864-the-bears-cub-part-13/ Part 14 “Happy Birthday!” “Hmmmm….. huh?” “Happy Birthday, Bear!” Hare said with a cheer as he slapped Bear’s muscular stomach. Hare quickly grabbed his hand as they reddened from the impact. Regardless of their growth, Bear’s muscles were still like uncompromising granite. “Oh yeah, I forgot” he said almost nonchalantly but it was written on his face how excited he really was. Donut and Slugger came around with a large cake with a large protrusion sticking from it that looked pretty familiar. Bear smirked and giggled a little as they tried to place it on his big muscle gut. “Sit still!” Slugger demanded as they balanced the silver platter before letting it go. All of Bear’s pups stood around his bed as they waited for him to speak. He looked at each one of us with a loving flare in his eyes. “You are the best pups I could have ever asked for. I wish you’d untie me so I could hug all of you.” I saw a grin on Taker’s face at that comment. “Hey, that wouldn’t be fun. It’s your birthday.” I honestly was impressed with Bear’s resilience to speak on the issue when there were signs all over that gave away our plans. There was the fact that the large protrusion in his cake was an extra large dildo with a cake coming out of the cock hole. The fact his big forearms were tied fast to his bed with thick, heavy-duty chains to compensate for Bear’s great strength. There was the face that we’d all come into his room wearing nothing but what he said to be his favorite uniforms on all of us. I was originally against it since the suit he said he’d liked on me the most was my birthday suit. I’d had my hands covering my crotch for the last few hours. I realize it was ridiculous since we all were having sex together every weekend and we all often wore little to nothing anyway but it was different coming to Bear pre-exposed. Bear could see the shyness in my eyes and going by the bounce in his shorts, he clearly reveled in it. “Mmmm, I see Cub’s looking quite tasty today” he said, licking his lips. “Haha, glad you said it exactly like that” Donut said as grabbed me around the waist. We’d talked about this stunt over and over but, no matter what, all the pups insisted that I be the one to do *that*. I felt my body tighten as we walked up to Bear’s bed side and Donut grabbed my waist with his big, muscled hands and lifted me onto Bear’s mattress. The amount of surface area left on the bed that didn’t have a healthy portion of Bear was rapidly shrinking these days. After our last few growth spurts, we couldn’t find a big enough opening down in the den to fit Bear inside. It was like an impending conclusion when all of us had grown so quickly in the last few months. Bear had to crouch in every part of the house and even when he went to his new room in the Hibernation Room, we had to struggle to slip him through and not destroy the walls. We couldn’t let Bear try by himself as, thanks to the growth, he’d gotten way too strong to do most things without destroying something. Doors broke, walls were given knew “openings”, ceilings were instantly decimated with his hard head. Even the hibernation room’s door was removed so that Bear didn’t tear the whole second floor down with his massive shoulders. These were signs that we were going to hit the max size of the two story house soon and it was clear Donut wasn’t too far off. Already his head was closing in on the tall ceilings and I could see his red headed Mohawk scrapping plaster. Still, as we’d grown in the house, we’d become closer than ever. Bear loved us all equally but he was starting to become more of a monster in the sack as our growth seemed to spur him to have longer and longer periods of sex that left us all weak and panting on the floor in heaps of sweat and euphoria. I felt closer to each of my brother’s than I had with my own parents. Donut was like the big brother I always wanted to teach me and make me a better person. Taker and Balls were my pals and loved to rough house with me, ruffling my hair and slapping my butt to congratulate me when I succeeded and to comfort be when I failed. Slugger and Hare were my support system when it came to getting me through my classes that I struggled on and loved to push me to try new things and work to refine the old. Even Toxic was a ball of kindness when he wasn’t and took me to the places the other bears were too nervous to take me. I’d gotten my first lap dance with Toxic. It was almost like he knew what I was most uncomfortable doing and would go out of his way to push me into them so that I’d gain better street smarts. What sucked, however, was that the closer we got, the more I realized something was wrong. Something in me knew each one of them was hiding something from me that they weren’t ready to be open about. That didn’t matter right now though as I stood over the bed and climbed over Bear’s massive limbs. Since he’d gotten blocked from going downstairs to his “contraption”, he tried to do more work outs and lift to compensate for his lack of sexual release while we were all in classes or off supporting our individual clubs. Bear’s concern with our future’s is probably what let us all know he cared the most. That didn’t, however, help me climb over all of his massive, bulging limbs as I kicked a leg over a bicep that was probably a match for my own chest measurement. Bear’s massive body was a lot to take in with people who didn’t know him. When they saw him, many stared and gasped at how they’d seen their first giant. Having an almost 12 foot tall man pass you was like watching a tree with legs take walk. Not just a big tree but a beautiful tree. Bear’s body features were amplified like all of ours. His legs got thicker and his stance got wider. His torso was a mountain of curves and mounds that were each probably further from his body than any furniture one could sit on. It was nearly impossible to get him through our new double door entrance at the front of the house but it was only made worse when he tried to pull his big, hulking arms through. I actually had to climb a little onto his adamantine wall of abs and looked down over a mountain rage to his big, grinning face. I saw his teeth appear as he realized what we’d planned. I took a deep breath and tried to think loose before I moved the candle away from the cake and lowered myself onto his stomach. The cake we’d set on his stomach wasn’t too big but it was made to hold in place a LARGE dildo. Slugger had produced a massive 2 foot dildo from somewhere he wouldn’t say. Before we knew it, ideas were flooding out of him on what to do for Bear’s birthday. I was thinking about how strange that was for an instantly but I couldn’t keep it in my head as my muscular ass cheeks were spread wide by the warm, rubber cock filling my anal cavity. It was sliding in with some difficulty but I was prepared. For weeks, the other pups had been prepping me to take on Bear’s gargantuan crotch anaconda and I’d almost gotten big enough to take all of Donut or Slugger. I couldn’t believe how their growing cocks were able to enter my ass but it was even more impressive that I was making it past the first foot so easily. It was only until last week that I struggled to make it to the 2nd foot. I kept thinking in my head ‘Think of Bear. Think of Bear.’. Donut had taught me that trick when he explained how he’d come into the fraternity as he was the first to take Bear’s cock and was also the one who could take it the easiest due to his size. On the weekends it was an amazing size as Donut, already a massive man, took on Bear’s cock again and again as they both grew and grew through the weeks. They were reaching superhuman levels the way Bear was roughest with him and Hare. A few times, Bear had cracked the walls trying to fuck Donut into oblivion. I thought of how Donut got pounded by the long log of man-god that was Bear as I felt myself get filled with the singular pillar. With a last groan of ecstasy, I was rewarded with a cold feeling as the white icing had covered my butt and I felt a few seconds to relax. I struggled through the waves of pleasure to see Bear’s face and I was happy to see he was giving me the most intense bed-eyes. “Mmmmm, such a good Baby Cub. You’ve almost prepped that tight little butt for me, haven’t you?” he said as he licked his dry lips. He looked like a man who hadn’t had water to drink in years. I felt my muscular chest swell a little with pride as I saw that look of pride. I lifted myself up slowly and my ass made a loud plop at the release of the dildo. “Alright, pup, finish him off” I heard Taker say. I proceeded with the plan as I began to climb Bear’s wide torso and felt the bed fall away as Bear’s body widened with my climb. As I reached his big, cushion like pecs, I looked down between them to Bear’s big face and I think I blushed as I turned around and sat on my stomach. “Oh, good, dinner” I heard and felt rumble through his big chest before a big, wet and long tongue moved over my bubble butt. I groaned and moaned with excitement as Bear moved his tongue artistically over my vanilla cream covered butt cheeks and hungrily ate it off me. “Mmm, my favorite. Cub flavored.” I screamed as he shoved his massive tongue forward like a dagger and I felt myself pierced by what simply couldn’t be just a tongue, though it was. The other cubs began to move into their sectors and began to rub Bear’s big muscles. Rarely did they get a chance to ravage Bear like this so each one went at it like an animal as they tried to please themselves and their big fraternity leader simultaneously. Bear was livid and I could tell as I heard chains rattle and his tight XXXXXXL underwear stretched. I was still receiving a savage lashing from Bear but I could still appreciate a growing pillar in his underwear as he grew hard. Toxic had taken the opportunity for what it was and had climbed between Bear’s big legs to sit on top of his watermelon like nuts. He watched playfully as Bear’s cock reached higher up and was beginning to length between Toxic’s legs. He actually had to move further back as he felt the big man cannon beneath him start to lift his body. The way it moved powerfully, I instantly wondered if his cock was strong enough to lift people and even heavy duty weights. “Uh oh, Bear’s coming to play, pups” Bear said as he felt his cock stretch his sweaty briefs further. His smell was getting stronger as I felt his muscles get sweaty and his hairy chest was starting to glisten from his heat. Toxic looked as excited as I did as we watched the tower grow and reach taller than our sitting positions and finally outgrew Bear’s remaining clothing with a powerful RIP. His cock was a beautiful and powerful piece of architecture as it bobbed with arousal. It couldn’t have been shorter than 3 feet and was veined from top to bottom, the head red with rapidly pumping blood. Each inch looked as thick and intimidating as the rest and we feared that it could rip me or Toxic apart if given the chance. Still it was in Toxic’s eyes that I knew we were in agreement; that wasn’t a bad fate in order to atleast try once. That wasn’t our goal today, though, as Toxic leaned in and I watched his handsome face release a long tongue of its own. He was red too as he closed in on the hot piece of meat that towered in front of him. I was actually pretty jealous even as I felt Taker and Donut reaching up and grabbing my ass cheeks to spread them even wider for Bear’s tongue. Toxic had Bear’s cock all to himself and I saw the desire in him to keep it that way, his resting place on top of Bear’s balls like a throne. I didn’t have time to worry much about it, though, as Hare and Balls had moved to Bear’s big and hairy nuts and were licking it as Slugger looked to be preparing something at the end of the bed. “Got a big present for you bear!” I heard Balls call before he looked over at me and snickered. “Aww for little ol’ m--- FUCK!” Bear roared as he shook in his chains and I was rocked back and forth on his massive, convulsing body. Slugger grinned as he pushed the longest dildo I’d ever seen underneath Bear’s balls, pressing into what I’d always assumed was sacred ground. “Oh you little *groan* fucker” Bear groaned ferociously as his big and powerful cheeks were pulled apart by the truly gargantuan rubber tool. It was beyond human comprehension as it looked almost as big as my big arms in thickness. Bear convulsed and roared with pleasure as his anal cavity was stretched by more cock than he’d ever taken. Bear had done a lot of new things with us in the last few months but we’d had yet to reverse the roles till now. I’d never heard him make such a deep squeal as he was penetrated. The pups were all working more ferociously than before as our exploits reached a fever pitch. Taker and Donut nibbled and kissed each of Bear’s muscle, each one tensing to the touch to rock hardness and practically hot enough to melt stone. Balls and Hare were now trying to suck Bear’s massive balls into their mouths, each one larger than their heads. Slugger was probably having the most fun besides me and Toxic as he quickly pushed his rubber weapon in and out of Bear. Suddenly, Bear’s entire body tensed. “Ah fuck!” he cried as his large and veiny muscles all flexed enormously. Bear’s cock was slowly growing as he felt himself on the edge. I gasped at its size and appearance as it glistened and even turned a bit purple. Before we knew, Bear moved in a blur. His massive biceps pushed Taker’s and Donut’s faces to him. With perfect precision, he gave each aggressive kisses that pushed them both over the edge. Bear knew just how to give each of his pups their high. I watched as he used every tied body part to release an orgasm for each of us. As cum from Donut and Taker rained down over us. Bear tightened up his stomach and roared ferociously. Taker and Donut were more easily influenced by feeling and intimacy rather than power but the rest weren’t so lucky. Bear’s leg shackles came undone as his big muscles bulged. He used his long legs to pull both Balls and Hare into his crotch, pressing their faces across Toxic’s back. “GRAAAAH!” He roared as his cock and balls grew and gave all of them a front row seat to his power. Just the force he exerted caused all 3 to cum simultaneously, Hare and Balls shouting at the top of their lungs into Toxic’s back and Toxic crying as he felt the cock in his arms rock like a volcano and finally spewed cum with the rest of the pups. So much testosterone and energy was enough for Slugger to also cum, who felt he couldn’t move the massive dildo anymore with Bear’s powerful ass cheeks laminating it. Before I knew it, I wasn’t left out as I felt Bear at it again, his tongue penetrating quickly and had me shouting as well. All heard was chains as Bear effortlessly shredded his bonds and began to sit up, grabbing me with an arm and holding me upside down as he came, his tongue going deeper and deeper until finally I came too, firing toward the floor with an unbelievable orgasm. Every muscle was flushed with the greatest feeling that I could never get enough of as I joined the other pups in a white burst of cum. Muscles, cocks, and handsome faces were tangled on Bear’s bed as they all experienced simultaneous ejaculation. Bear was still at it, still hard, and still firing jizz that hit the walls, the ceilings, and the lights, darkening the room as he and his pups coated the room white. Still too small and too weak to do so with them, I still launched a hefty load onto the floor. The others were still lying on the floor weakly, their bodies convulsing as they basked in the afterglow of this last escapade. Bear’s head was firmly placed against the 9 foot ceiling as he playfully licked me and kissed each of my cheeks as I came down from my high. I felt myself surrounded in muscles and warmth as Bear smacked his lips. “That was fun, guys. I’d recommend stronger chains though.” I tried to tell him that the chains were made of stainless steel but I was interrupted by a cracking noise. We all forced ourselves up at the sound of a tree falling down. It was only in the last moment that we were freefalling. A crash came as we all fell and collapsed into the kitchen, cum still raining from the ceiling two stories up but was now accompanied by plaster and dust as the floor wasn’t capable of holding of our weight in the same spot anymore. Bear landed on his big butt but he’d made sure to wrap me tight in his arms for the landing. It was like I’d fallen in a big mattress that had cushioned the fall. Groans could be heard as the guys all felt pains from falling several feet. Bear had a shocked expression his face too and looked at Slugger. Slugger only sighed. “I know, I’ll let them know. This place was getting cramped anyway.” To Be Continued….
  18. muscledrain

    Wesley and Master Ed

    AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story contains master/slave and hypnosis themes but no violence. Muscle growth is in the last third but I promise it's worth it. I've written dominance stories before but I think I worked harder on this than most. I set it in England because I think the Cockney accent is incredibly sexy. This is also a one shot from me, and it's a complete story. There will be no part 2. England, the 1980s Ed was always there alongside Wesley’s parents from as far back as he could remember. Ed was his father’s bodyguard and right hand man, and he also served as a sort of assistant, preparing meetings for his father and arranging schedules, driving his father around and other things. Wesley grew up adoring Ed. Ed was powerfully built, more so than any father of any boy at school. The few times Wesley saw him changing were always intensely remembered and savored. Ed had the biggest muscles Wesley had ever seen. Ed was taller than his father by six inches, and dominated any room he was in with his presence. He was hired muscle, and as Wesley grew older he realized that Ed was meant to be intimidating to anyone that met with John, whose life was all too brief. Throughout Wesley’s childhood, Ed was always there at his father John’s side, saying “Yes, Master John. Right away, Master John. Would you like some tea, Master John, sir?” Ed was a servant in every way, in spite of his size. His deference to John was unwavering. The level of respect he showed both publicly and privately was intense and absolute. When Wesley was ten, his father, who was a prominent member of government, suffered a stroke and promptly died. His mother vowed that she would never remarry and had a nervous breakdown. They had little in the way of other family members. Both of Wesley’s parents had been only children, and the grandparents were fond of Wesley, but two of them (one grandfather and one grandmother from different sides) were in constant need of medical care, one grandfather was a heroin addict (not publicly known) and the other grandmother had strict religious views that had alienated her daughter. Wesley’s mother put it in writing that Ed, who had been a trusted family friend for ten years and who had worked his way into her trust wholly, would assume temporary guardianship of Wesley, and the lawyers drew up the papers to make it fully legal. Ed would always say “You listen to me, lad. You always listen to Ed. You listen to me, you can’t go wrong. Your father’s gone but I’m here and whenever I tell you somefin’ it’s for your own good, understand?” Wesley’s mother recovered from her breakdown and by that time Wesley had already begun to think of Ed as his real father. John had always been largely absent from his life. There had been nannies and Ed had always been the one to give him guidance. When bullies teased him at school, Ed told him how to stick up for himself, and demand they stop. He taught him a little bit about fighting before his mother put a stop to it. He made sure that Wesley was involved in scouting and had the idea for him to go to a summer camp that taught real survival and military skills, something most posh elites wouldn’t dream of doing for their young boys. Wesley loved being around Ed, and felt slightly guilty that he missed his biological father less and less. His parents were largely insulated from the economic turbulence of the times, and there was constant talk he overheard about the working class and what would become of them. His father had been involved in large scale economic policies. ENGLAND, 1985 In school, Wesley always did exceedingly well. Even when his mother was diagnosed with cancer, Ed told him that nothing could affect his studies. His entire future was riding on what he produced in school. When his mother slipped away, Wesley was 16, almost 17. At this point, Ed had full guardianship and was Wesley’s legal father. But the man still referred to him as “Master Wesley”. He spoke in a heavy Cockney accent and had never talked about his past. Wesley knew he was working class poor a long time ago, and knew that he had to grow up in the streets fighting a lot just to make his way in life. And then the time came for Wesley to go to university. “There now, Master Wesley.” Ed held Wesley’s coat in the air for him to slip his arms into. Wesley was a pretty lad, and all the girls thought so. He had dark shining hair and a pixie face. He hated that he didn’t look anything like his now legal father, whose gruff features: bald head, graying stubble, 40ish appearance complete with craggy skin and a deep voice made him practically ooze masculinity. Not to mention his body, which he had always kept fit, far after his job as a bodyguard had transitioned to merely looking out for Wesley. Ed held the finances and the trust fund until Wesley was of legal age, and now that he had to hand it over, the time had come to tell Wesley. “You ‘ave to make a decision, Master Wesley. Regardin’ your finances. This is a rather delicate matter to bring up, but it ‘as to be brought up.” Ed stood over the boy, almost a foot taller and oozing power in his black suit and red tie. “As you know, you are inheritin’ a substantial sum, but it ain’t going to be enough to last forever. And you ‘ave to decide whether or not you want me to stay ‘ere with you.” “Of course I want you to stay! You’re my father! I mean, I know I don’t call you that. But you are. Aren’t you?” “I’ll always be there for you, and you’re the son I nevah ‘ad,” Ed began. “But the truth is, I need to make a livin’ and I ‘ave a bit of a confession for you. I have taken money out of the family fortune over the years and started a side business. I replaced what I took and made sure it’s all there for you. I want you to know because I love you, and have made sure you’ve done everything right to get ahead in life. That’s been my job. I’ve made your meals and I’ve not been able to protect you from grief and loneliness. I’ve failed because I’ve put a lot of time into my business dealings, because I knew the money wouldn’t last. You ‘ave enough to go to a prestigious university and then enough for maybe a few years more. It won’t last. That’s why I did this. So we could be a family. I know I’m a man of few words, lad, but you ‘ave to know that.” “I know. I always know. You’re my hero,” Wesley said, looking up at the proud face of his former servant, the man who had called him the rather elitist and pompous affectation of “Master” since his birth. “And one more thing. I don’t think you should call me “Master Wesley”. Ed laughed a gruff laugh. “It’s what your mother wanted, and I promised her before she died. She didn’t want you to call me father or dad. That’s why I never let you call me anything but ‘Ed’. But I always thought of you as my son and always will.” “So…what’s this business?” “You’ll find that out over time. I’m going to show it to you, but not yet. I want you to go to university. Make friends for once. You have a brand new start at this. Don’t fuck it up, mate.” Ed grinned and Wesley grinned with him. “I’m really proud of you. I didn’t know you were that smart. I mean I knew you were smart but-“ “I just felt you should know the whole truth. I’d never to anything to endanger you, lad. I want to make sure I’m every bit the provider your parents were.” “I love you, Ed.” “I love you, too, Master Wesley.” Wesley grinned. “Stop calling me that.” Ed laughed. Over the next few months, Ed took over the family estate, which was a rather nice house in the country and Wesley started going to school. Wesley came home for winter and summer breaks and would always do minor paperwork for Ed, who was creating the foundation for a business venture. And then after a year and a half, Wesley, who was 18, came home for Christmas. He was greeted at the train station by Ed, who was dressed in a really sharp blue suit (black was his usual color, so it was a nice change to see) and several men that Ed introduced as his employees, and both of them were bald like him, well muscled, and had firm handshakes. One of them was younger, though bald, his face was young. But strong. He wore a leather jacket and grinned like a Cheshire cat. He sized Wesley up with his eyes and smelled strongly of cigarette smoke. The other man was older and dressed in a dull brown suit and had graying hair on the sides he shaved, but had a look of danger to him that Wesley immediately sensed. Their names were Pete and Ian. They took Wesley out to dinner near a pub and had a good time asking him about school and hushed up when Wesley asked them about their jobs. “We’ll discuss that later, lad,” Ed told him. “Finish your dinner and we’ll continue this at home.” When they got home, it was just the two of them. “So do you ‘ave girlfriend yet?” “No. No, I don’t,” Wesley said shyly and blushed, trying to avoid the subject. “Wesley, I’m goin’ to ask you somefin’ very important. I want you to answah me ‘onestly. Are you gay?” Wesley wanted to run out of the room. “Look at me!” Ed commanded. Wesley looked up. “Yes. I’m sorry!” He wanted to cry and scream. “Hey. Hey. None of those tears here. You think I give two fucks? You’re my son and I love you.” Ed took his hands and cupped them around Wesley’s face. “Dad..” Wesley had never really used the word before. Ed hugged him and held him for a few minutes, comforting him with a strong hand running up and down his back.” “That’s alright now, isn’t it? You’re right as rain is what you are.” Ed clapped him on the back. “And I’ve known for quite some time, you know.” “How did you know?” “I knew when you were a little boy. You tried to sneak a peek at me whenever you could. All you wanted was to come into my bedroom whenever I was undressing. Your mother made me lock my door after enough times.” “I’m..I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry. Sorry is for lesser men. You’re the son of a great man who did great things and don’t you forget it.” “Yes, sir.” Ed grabbed a beer from the fridge and handed another one to Wesley. “I think you could use one of these, lad.” “I’ve never had beer.” “Never? How long have you been at college for? Should have gone to some parties by now! Don’t tell me you’re hiding away from everyone, still.” Wesley sipped his ale. “Oh! That’s um…wow.” “You’ll get used to it. You’re a man, now. To you and your future.” He clinked their bottles together. “I joined a gym. A few months ago.” “Did you now?” Ed had showed him how to lift weights a few years before but Wesley hadn’t been interested. Ed brought that up. “I was…embarrassed.” “Why were you embarrassed?” “Because I got…” “You got excited watchin’ me? Is that it?” Ed sipped his beer. “It’s alright. Lots of men at the gym like watchin’ me. One of the reasons I go.” Wesley sipped his ale delicately and nearly spit it out. “What, you think you’re the only bloke that likes dick, mate?” Wesley was so shocked he didn’t know what to say? “Yeah, I like men. I like fuckin’ their pussies ‘til they scream bloody murder. Course I could never do it here. Though I admit since you moved out I’ve had a few boys over.” “That’s…I…don’t know what to…say.” “Say what you feel. That’s ‘ow I raised you.” Ed said sternly. “I think it’s hot,” Wesley whispered out loud, barely able to get his words out. “Sorry, I ‘ad trouble ‘earin’ you. What did you say, lad?” “I said that’s very hot, sir.” Wesley said, much more loudly. Ed belted out a laugh. “Now that’s more like it. You think it’s hot for two blokes to ‘ave a go, eh? Come ‘ere, Wesley.” The older man held Wesley again and this embrace was different. Wesley finally felt like he could let go of whatever held him back. He couldn’t explain what he was feeling. “I’ve always liked looking at you,” he whispered. “Go on,” Ed said, rocking back and forth with Wesley in his embrace. “You weren’t like other dads, you were better. Stronger. More manly. Taught me things no one else did. Like how to find things to eat in the wilderness and make tents and traps. Even though we didn’t actually get to use them,” he stifled a laugh. “I looked up to you. I didn’t want you to think I was weak.” “I don’t think that. I think you’re a very smart young lad. I was always rubbish at school.” Ed noticed Wesley’s grip was becoming tighter. “You’re like me. You’re gay.” “Yes. Yes, but you always came first, you ‘ave to know that.” “I do.” Wesley could feel Ed’s hot beer breath on his cheeks and moaned. “Alright. I think I know what you want,” Ed whispered in his ear. “Do you want Dad to take you into his bedroom?” “Yes,” Wesley croaked out his answer. “God, yes.” “Oh, little boy you are about to make me so ‘appy!” And before he knew it Ed was scooping him up in his arms and casually holding him in his iron biceps as they made their way to Ed’s bed. Ed shut the door with his foot and laid Wesley down and took off his shoes. “Do you want your Dad to make you feel real good?” “Yes, yes I’ve always wanted that!” “Take your clothes off. I’ll make a man out of you, yet.” Ed took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. Wesley slowly took off his sweater. He was shaking from excitement. His smile burst through suddenly, as he removed his shirt. “I’ve been working out a little. Not anywhere near as big as you, but…” Ed ran a hand over his son’s abs. “That’s nice. I like that quite a lot.” Ed got behind Wesley and seductively swayed his hips back and forth slowly, feeling his son’s bony frame. Wesley was his son now and was about to become much, much more. Wesley was half his size, but compact and not an ounce of fat on him. The muscle was so minimal as to be pathetic. If he didn’t know any better he’d swear the boy was part Japanese, he was so small. At best his dick was only two inches long, and he couldn’t have been taller than 5’2”. “Do you know what I want from you, boy?” he whispered huskily into Wesley’s ear. “I want you to suck off my big prick and eat up all of my cum.” Wesley moaned. “Now I’m warnin’ you, I’ve got a big ‘un so you better learn quick, son.” Ed firmly turned Wesley around and undid the boys belt and his pants dropped. He yanked down the boys underwear with a smirk on his face. “What an adorable dick you got. Want to see mine?” He took off his tie first, and wore an arrogant smile on his face as he did so. He took off the shirt slowly, and Wesley stood there shaking from the chill as he savored the outline of the only man he’d ever really looked up to, worshiped even, the muscles pushing out the shirt and filling it out as it strained against the large man’s frame. The shirt came off and there was more chest hair than Wesley expected on a frame of a much younger man, every inch powerful and muscular. Ed exuded power. His chest was mounds of solid muscle. His arms were like a gorilla’s and Wesley started drooling over the man who had always towered over other men and made them look weak in comparison, himself included. He’d been jerking off to the thought of Ed for years now. Ed shoved his pants down and stepped out of them with a hungry look, and every part of him oozed sexual confidence. He stood with his dick trying to break free from the jock strap he was wearing and rubbed the throbbing erection against his son’s stomach. He was much taller than Wesley and his dick was almost at Wesley’s chest. “Lick it. Lick it for me. Taste it with the sweat still there.” Wesley looked up at him with a twinkle in his eyes. The boy had never been so thrilled in his life and Ed was relieved. The minute Wesley ran his tongue against his almost too-big dick he instantly knew this kid was made to be a sub. He sucked on Ed’s balls through the mesh fabric for a while and licked the dick and moaned some before Ed delicately drew down his jock strap inch by inch until the lad greedily tasted his stepdad’s cock for the first time. It was heaven, that mouth. He looked down at the lad with his angelic features and wide eyes looking for approval, his dick head gently being sucked by the boy he’d raised. He moaned in pleasure. “That’s a good lad. What a pretty boy you are. What a pretty mouth for me to fuck. But now I want you to take it into your throat, lad. You’re going to gag but I want you to do it. It will hurt but you’re goin’ to learn to suck a real man’s dick tonight. Are you ready?” With his dick still firmly being sucked, Wesley nodded. “Good lad.” He positioned himself and Wesley so that Wesley was kneeling more and he slipped his dick further and further down the lads throat. “Breathe through your nose, little darlin’. Just through the nose. That feels right good. That feels proper nice!” Wesley felt the force of the man’s hands pushing him down onto the dick and it was heaven. He was finally with another man, and it was the man he’d spent his teen years dreaming of, even though he had hated himself for it. He started coughing but kept on. He was gagging on the dick as it had inflated to its full nine inch capacity and the tears flowed over his cheeks. It went on for an hour, with him sputtering, coughing, gagging, and he nearly threw up three times. Ed slipped his dick out every now and then to make sure his little darlin’ was doin’ alright. They moved to the bed where Ed could lie down to get some right proper sucking. He creamed so much so suddenly that Wesley didn’t know what hit his mouth and then when he realized his mouth was full of man cum he started swallowing it. It tasted like gel candy and sweat, the sweat of hard man labor. He could cry from the sheer pleasure of eating a part of Ed, the part of his manhood. He sucked and sucked until there was no more cum and Ed picked him up and held him and dry humped him gently for a few more minutes. “That was nice.” “I don’t want anyone else. No one but you.” “Hush now. We’ll talk about that later…” The next day, they got dressed and Ed wore the proud smile of a man who had conquered his conquest. Wesley felt in bliss when he had woken up with the much bigger man looking down on him, stubble rough and brown on the man’s face and he felt a sudden wish that he could grow facial hair of that kind, but he was 18 and still had never needed to shave. His own face was smooth as a 12 year old’s. When Ed had climbed on top of Wesley and brushed his stubbled mouth to kiss his own, he didn’t want it to stop, this feeling of a big strong giant with muscled arms as big as his head putting a rough hand on his face and giving it a gentle squeeze as he beamed looking at his new fuck toy. “Now today,” Ed said as he prepared some oatmeal. “I’m goin’ to take you to town and we’re goin’ to visit the business. Coz there are things you need to see. And I know you’re goin’ to make me proud.” The drive was largely silent as Wesley was still basking in the afterglow of sucking his new dad’s dick and emptying his balls. He could still feel the taste of Ed in his mouth and every time he thought about it exchanged a knowing glance with his new father. The building was non-descript and somewhat on the outskirts of town. Old, brick, three story. A bunch of pubs lined the street down the way. Between there were some cheap housing units. Ed was wearing a power suit and Wesley felt something was off when they arrived. Wesley looked up at the building and hadn’t expected it to be in this part of town. He gave Ed a questioning look and the older man just said: “Follow me.” Ed was so confident and strode into the place like a man who truly knows how to carry himself in the world. A woman in a lavender outfit came out to greet him. She had orange-brown curly hair that lustrously fell over his shoulders. “Why Mr. Bester. How lovely to see you, sir. And is this..?” “This is Wesley. Wesley, this here’s Anne.” “Wesley, lovely to meet you.” “Let’s have some tea, shall we sweetheart?” They took tea in a small room meant for visitors. The furniture was very nice and antique. The inside of the building was well decorated in Edwardian and Victorian aged furniture. Wesley sipped his tea and was brimming with questions, though he’d begun to suspect what was happening his heart was beating twice as fast.” “So, then. Wesley, this is my business. The money pays the rent and the business more than pays for itself. I have a staff of 8 girls and they’re all good at their jobs.” “You…have sex for money?” “Yes, dear. Do you have a problem with that?” “No, but I am incredibly worried you’ll wind up in jail.” Wesley turned to Ed who grinned like Wesley had just told a good joke and was holding back laughter. “Son, that won’t be a concern. The local police are some of our best customers. We keep things quiet. It’s a classy joint. We talk with any boys comin’ here that they’re on their best behavior. I have some big young scrappy boys I’ve hired to look after these girls. And it’s worked quite well. For three years now.” “What about the local government? What if someone gets wind?” “The mayor and practically every member of his immediate staff, that’s about four men all come here, though some are regulars and some only occasional visitors. They’ve all been compensated. It’s a small enough town so if you don’t make noise, you won’t get hurt. Of course, that’s just the beginning.” Anne smiled knowingly and exchanged a glance with Ed. “There’s another establishment I run ‘bout fifty miles from here. Once a month a bunch of lads meet for fights.” “Fights?” “Fightin’ is how I made my way up in the world. I was fighting underground since fifteen and made quite a lot of cash, well for then anyways, by beatin’ up lads older than me. I got out after a while to do construction. But I was muscle for some local gangsters. It’s time you heard this story as it concerns your father, lad. I know you thought the world of your dad but he used resources to keep this whole area, well, in balance you could say. Lots of crime in other parts of the country nearby but here there’s a balance. Over the last twenty years I have had ties with anyone underground. These are bad men that do bad things, but they kept their noses clean in this town because your dad paid them well to make sure they didn’t do anything serious here, and they did good things eventually. Helped out a few girls that were in a bad way from some other bad men, if you get my drift. Anyways. Your father and me, we took care of things on the side without goin’ through the law. But only when we had to. Things you don’t need to know about. But it bonded us together. And right now, well, I sort of run the show. The big boss handed the reins over to me so he could retire. I’m the perfect man for the job. I kept up ties with all your dad’s friends. I help them out and they help me out.” “You’re saying you’re…actually a gangster. Sir.” “Well. When you put it that way, yes. But you see, lad, the plan was always to get out. I’m an expert in protection services that are not entirely on the up and up, and I learned all about legal security with your father and his sort. In the next few years I’m going to invest in security services, form a security company and place men across the country who have ample experience from the other end of things. Well, some of them. A man who knows how that sort of thing works knows how to prevent it. We’ll provide bodyguards, guards for posh neighborhoods, guards for shopping areas. And that will be just the start…but what do you think, son?” “I think I trust you. And I won’t worry about you if you tell me not to. And I love you.” “Would you like to meet the other girls?” Anne asked sweetly. Ed nodded in the affirmative so they went upstairs. Each room had a different girl and Wesley shook hands with each one. He felt dirty doing so, oddly and blushed often. Ed’s plan had gone according to plan entirely. When Wesley’s father John died suddenly, Ed knew he could seize upon the opportunity. His original plan had been to seduce the widow and marry her, but not long after she began mourning she started having a lot of pain and not long after that the cancer diagnosis. It was at that point Ed had begun to notice how often Wesley conveniently came in to the bathroom while he was inside. He left the door left unlocked on purpose, just to catch a glimpse of the boy’s face. And he knew that puppy love would blossom someday, and that his rise would be instrumental in making Wesley his ultimate fantasy. A true proper son to be his loyal fuck and suck would be a dream! “Have you chosen a major yet?” he asked Wesley in a local pub over a pint a bit after midday. No one else was in the pub. “No, I’m afraid not. I’m not sure what to do with my life.” “You’ll major in finance and business. You’re going to be a money man. And you’re going to make money your bitch and the world with it.” “What about you? I mean, that is to say-“ “I’ll make you into mine. Would you like that?” Ed was so gruff and startlingly firm that Wesley wanted to sit in his lap and just be held. “Yes, sir.” “Good. It’s settled, then. Now, let’s finish this, and I’ll take you home. I’ve got some things to do with my men. You met them at the train station. They’re loyal and they know how to be smart about what we do, so just respect them if they ever come round. You don’t ever give them grief and they’re to do the same.” Ed was so much more powerful than Wesley ever dreamed. The man had orchestrated so many different levels of power it was mind boggling. The man had come with nothing and Wesley had been handed everything. It made him feel inferior to his new dad and he wanted to do everything he could to prove himself worthy and useful for him. He would not disappoint. He got near perfect marks all throughout school. He sailed through finance, though business was a bit harder. The double major was difficult but not impossible. Ed would invite him to come home once a month from university and they would have a sit down about some matters of investment, planning for the future. And then Ed would take him to bed. The first time Ed fucked him had been so massive. Literally, his dick hurt so badly that Wesley was glad he had all of winter break to heal. He was under orders to use a dildo every chance he could get, and luckily he had the resources to afford his own single room without bunkmates. Just feeling his dad’s wet cockhead sliding along his ass before deciding on the hole to enter and then being able to say “Oh, dad. Oh Dad dad dad dad dad…” It was his mantra while the cock entered him and truly made a man out of him. He cried out in sheer joy as his dad conquered him, a man twice his size but grateful for his son’s pussy. ENGLAND, 1989 By the time Wesley graduated, he did so with full honors and no one had been prouder or clapping as loudly as Ed. And then Ed brought him home and put him to work right away. By this time the security business was up and running. Wesley had helped him form all the documentation along with the lawyers Ed hired. He was on the ground floor of a business form the ground up and used it for ideas and inspiration for his classes. He was often one step ahead of other students because of the real world experience he was getting. Ed used the fighting ring to look for potential security men who could be motivated to go straight and a lot of them were so poor the crime they’d done was little in comparison to the chance to work for Mr. Edward Bester. Those boys he chose he also groomed. They would be good lads, or they’d regret crossing him if they chose to double cross their employer. There were government men that came to their home sometimes and Wesley was not privy to those conversations. All he knew is that they asked Ed to do things and he made them happy, and they were indebted to him for that. It made Ed trustworthy and also powerful. A contract was signed and suddenly his company was going to be one of the biggest in all of England. He would have to hire hundreds of men. Wesley became a very useful asset to the company as it grew, and it grew fast. Edward Bester, the boy from the streets who never went to school a day after the age of 12 was now CEO of a company where a dozen college-educated men all answered to him and called him “SIR”. He wore expensive suits and dominated any room he was in. If Mr. Bester looked at you with just one withering look, you knew not to cross him even slightly, and you performed your job with perfection. He was not unkind or sentimental, but the perfect serious man, unmoved by emotion with just the right amount of swagger. Wesley and he had shared a bed for several years. College had been difficult but now that his career had taken off they were able to be together the way they’d always dreamed. Things had gradually changed for the two of them as Ed made slight requests, one at a time, very carefully. The first request was that Wesley, in addition to calling him “Dad” began referring to him as “Boss” or “Sir.” “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot, Sir.” The next request was that Wesley start wearing women’s nightclothes on occasion and though he was reluctant, it made his dad very happy to slip a red bit of lingerie on his son and call him a girl while he fucked him with what was now a very well used hole. “Who’s a good girl?” “I am, sir. Thank you, sir.” “I’m going to ride your ass, girl. Like a woman. Would you like to be my woman, Wesley? Huh? Would you?” “Yes, sir!” Wesley never turned down a request. In fact he looked forward to them. Ed bought some leather daddy outfits, things he had had specially made. He would use Wesley in just about every position. One day he brought home a sling that he set up in one room so that he could hoist Wesley up by ropes and the fuck him while he hovered in mid-air. It was ecstasy for the both of them. One night, he took Wesley aside and asked him: “I’d like you to do somefin’ for me, little man. I’d like it a lot if at home you only call me one thing. Do you remember what I used to call you, when I was your dad’s man?” “You used to call me Master Wesley.” “Right. Like a proper gentulman from the old days. But what I really want is to be the Master of this House.” “Yes, Master.” “And I’d like to make some changes. Now, I know you work hard for the company, and you’re starting up the investment side of things, but…honestly I just keep seeing you dressed up and ready to serve. Would you like that?” Wesley was willing so that night he served Master Ed with a silver tray. Ed had a butler’s uniform he made Wesley wear. And then when Ed got horny he could easily access Wesley’s ass because the pants had a big hole in them for being fucked. “Not the rich little boy lord anymore, are you, boy? I’m the Master of this house, now, aren’t I? You like that don’t you? You like being a servant! Say it!” “I like being a servant. I want to be a servant, Master! You’re the Master of the House, sir!” And so on weekends, and also when they got home from work, Wesley would wear the butler’s uniform and wait hand and foot on Master Ed, or sometimes he’d wear a leather pair of underwear straps and he would start the day by waiting on his new Master by any means necessary. He was now sleeping on the floor on a small pallet, and then upon awakening would begin his new day as a practical slave. He would make breakfast and lay it out before Master awoke. He would satisfy Master’s sexual urges whenever Master asked. He would bow and worship Master if Master asked. He would buy presents for Master randomly to show him his affection. He would serve Master, taking his shoes off, his coat, and Master began snapping his fingers to command him. He knew in an instant when to kneel, when to bow, and when to start licking Master’s boots. Master would read a book or newspaper at the dining table while getting his massive dick sucked off. No matter how much he exercised, Wesley would only be fairly thin and toned and never ever have his Master’s bulk. Master would work out with big dumbbells in front of his boy, and demand worship. “Look how much bigger than you I am, slave! It’s pathetic, really. Lick that bicep, lad.” Wesley would lick all the sweat off Master’s body, he would clean the house in the nude, he would take calls and then go outside to run errands with clothing. Eventually when he did this it began to feel wrong. It began to feel wrong to wear clothes, even if it was cold. “Do you love me, slave?” Ed asked after several months of weekend slavehood. For that is what he now was, and Ed openly referred to him as a slave when they were at home. “Yes, Master, I do. I love you with all my heart, Master.” “Would you do anything I ask you to? No questions asked?” “Yes, sir.” “I’ve invited a few men over tonight. They are all gay men and all of them are powerful. They are all going to fuck you in front of me.” Wesley’s eyes grew wide. He had never been fucked by anyone but Master Edward. “These men will use condoms and lube. They will fuck you in the sling if they prefer, or possibly on the rack. We’ll see. You will do this and you will beg them for more. You will make them feel like real men, even though none of them look like me, none of them can hold a candle to me. I am still the only one you call Master. Do you understand that, fairy?” Master had taken recently to calling Wesley names. It excited Master and Wesley alike. “Yes, sir. I want to please them, sir.” And that night he did. A group of older men, all in expensive suits lounged in the dining room smoking cigars. The gangsters Pete and Ian were there, as well as some rich blokes. Master Edward joined them, though smoking was rare for him, he did enjoy a good cigar and brandy every now and then. Wesley stood naked as he was told while the men sized him up. “This is my son, and he will be your fuck toy tonight.” “You are the luckiest man in the world, I think,” said one. He was tall and balding and wore a large mustache. Another had short gray hair with sterling eyes, very stern looking, almost like an older military sort. The third was fatter and wore a beard. They ordered Wesley to sit down with his hands tied behind his back, fucked his mouth and his ass at the same time. By then he was in the sling. All night long dicks were in his mouth and ass as they took turns, both Master Edward and his three friends. Cigar smoke filled his lungs. “Have you ever smoked, lad?” Master Edward asked. “No, sir. I’m not the man you are, sir.” “Inhale this. Take a puff.” Wesley did so off the cigar and he felt his lungs burn with tobacco for the first time. He moaned with pleasure over doing something so dirty. “Do you think you’re a real man, then? Like us?” “No, I’ll never be the real man you are, sir.” “Little fairy cunt. Open your mouth, faggot. I’m going to give you another test. See if you can smoke this entire cigar while I personally fuck you.” Wesley did so and it was not easy to smoke without his hands but he didn’t drop the cigar while Master fucked his ass. Master’s muscles throbbed and his bald head shone in the dim light. His pecs shook as he pummeled his son and the three men watched in equal amounts disbelief and ecstasy. “What a good little slave cunt you are. Give me that cigar, cunt.” And so it began. At work, father and son were respected. Wesley was a vice president of operations and was kept busy by the ever expanding need for security. Men dominated the building. Almost everyone in the company was large, well-built, and dominant. More than a few would give him the look of a predator sizing up their prey. His father tended to surround himself with men who were secretly gay. He had a new house in London that he frequented on occasion and would approach men who used rentboys with opportunities to come work for him. He would use the owner to make connections. 90% of his staff were well educated gay men on the downlow. He never invited these men home to fuck Wesley. But he did invite them over for circle jerks. A few caught Wesley’s eye. It was important to Ed that no one knew about their Master/slave relationship from work. That was their domain and he wanted Wesley to command respect within the company. A few men did ask to fuck Wesley, though. He was a very pretty man and in his twenties he was much prettier than most. What he discovered through the gay paradise his new Master had created was that he was incredibly attractive to larger muscular men who wanted the chance to fuck a much smaller man. Two of them began to do so while others watched. Their circle jerk club had expanded to 15 employees. Pete and Ian were there, transitioning from gangster to office workers, though they were on call to intimidate at Ed’s whims. Anyone who discussed anything to anyone was certain to be fired, and have his legs broken. Everyone knew Master Ed wasn’t joking about that. Monthly orgies were common in their house. Men would fuck in every corner of their home, and it became a shrine to gay sex. Wesley had been fucked by at least ten of the staff now. Sometimes they would line up and beg him for his boy pussy. Everyone was very respectful of Master Edward’s only son. One day, he was at his Master’s feet when Master was reading his newspaper. “Fetch me a cigar, lad. And a whiskey.” Wesley did so. He cut the cigar carefully for Master and watched in delight as Master lit it up. Master had grown a beard of late, and it made him look even manlier and respectable. Smoke curled up and then a cloudbank of tobacco bloomed from his lips. “You know I have enough money to take care of you for life. If anythin’ were to ‘appen to me, you would be well kept, lad.” “Yes, Master. But-“ “Don’t interrupt me,” Master sternly rebuked. “I’m sorry, sir.” Wesley blushed. “Now, where was I? I think it’s time we changed your occupation, don’t you? You weren’t made to be a cutthroat businessman and we both know it.” Wesley’s heart started to fall. “Have I done something wrong?” “No, no. You haven’t done anythin’ wrong. It’s just…you’ll never command respect. You just aren’t that type of man. And you aren’t really happy doin’ any of this. I know what makes you ‘appy. What makes you ‘appy is servin’ men bigger than you, which is most.” “Yes, sir.” “I’d like to arrange for you to be my willing slave at home. I’ll be conductin’ business less, say four days a week. I’ll be here longer and when I’m not here, you’ll do projects from home for the business. And then when I find willin’ men who want a boy whore you will suck their dicks for cash like the faggot you are.” Master Ed said all of this calmly and efficiently. “Many of them know you already. And all of them are prepared to keep their mouths shut when they fuck you. Fuck you like a whore.” That weekend things had changed considerably. Master made his announcement that Wesley was no longer going to work for the company and that he was to become a permanent sub, and that his slavehood would extend to the entire company of gay men that took part in orgies. “So we can order him around, sir?” asked a tall blond man whose name was Carl. “Yeah, but you got to pay for that. There will be a slave fee for anyone wantin’ him on your own time.” And so it began that Master Edward began renting Wesley as a slave to the other men, all of them masculine, strong, big, and tall. The men mostly took to it very well for they had been acclimated to the idea of owning a slave in secret. Most of them got Wesley at least twice a month. He would come to their houses, clean up, do sexual favors, etc. A typical week would go: MONDAY – David David was a skinhead, with a Cockney accent much like Master Edward. “Oi. Are you done with the bathroom yet, slave?” “Yes, Master David.” “Well then get over here in the fucking living room and suck my cock like a good bitch!” TUESDAY – Carl Carl was 27, tall and blond and rowed a lot in university. “Hey slave, did you make my chips yet?” “Yes, Master.” “Good, serve them on your knees to me and grovel.” “Master Carl you are so manly, please accept my humble servitude. Please allow me to serve you and be your slave.” “Alright, I will. Lick the mud off my boots now. I want to see you do that. Fuckin’ slave cunt.” WEDNESDAY – Keith Keith was 40, graying hair and an aristocratic look. “Why hello, slave. Are you done ironing my pants yet?” “Almost, sir, Master Keith.” “Well when you’re done I want you to come over to my bedroom. I want my cock sucked. Don’t be too long.” “Yes, Master.” THURSDAY – Richard Richard was a smirking power hungry beast of a ginger. At six foot eight, he was one of the tallest men Wesley had ever seen up close. “I’m going to spank you, you dumb cunt. Would you like that?” “Yes, Master Richard.” Richard also liked to humiliate him. Made him bark like a dog and fed him out of a dog bowl. It turned him on so hard he nearly creamed himself just watching the slave lick his dinner out of a metal dog dish on the floor. FRIDAY – Gino Gino was half ItalWesley and half English and had olivine skin and a deep five o clock shadow, and wide laughter lines all over his face. His slick black hair was always perfectly combed and coiffed. “Hey, slave. Go get me a beer.” He grinned so widely. “Yes, Master.” “Hey, slave. Turn on the tell for me.” “Yes, Master.” “Jerk off for me, slave. Show me you think I’m hot.” “Yes, Master.” And on weekends he would come home and serve Master Edward. One day, though, he came home and found a young lad, around the age of 17 washing dishes in the kitchen, in an apron. The boy was flawlessly attractive, with rich auburn hair and stunning eyes. A clean face devoid of facial hair. “This is Devon,” Master Edward said, introducing them. “Devon is my new slave boy.” “What?” “Now I know what you’re thinking and he isn’t ‘ere to replace you. Don’t worry your pretty little head like a woman. I know you do.” Wesley blushed. “Devon ‘ere is just a beautiful addition to our family and ‘e’s goin’ to be makin’ us both very ‘appy.” “Hello, sir.” “Sir?” “It’s time for you to take your rightful place and ‘ave a slave yourself. Devon ‘ere will call you and me both as Master.” It was a shocking turn for Wesley, but he accepted anything his Master said as gospel. Edward helped himself to a cigar while the boys got acquainted. What a lucky man he had been. If only Wesley knew how good that luck was in reality. For Wesley had never imagined that Edward had been slowly over the years he had been raising him, giving him a chemical compound in his food. He had raised the boy from a small age to want to serve. He had procured the chemical from a scientist that Wesley’s father John knew. ENGLAND, 1979 He remembered the day well, when the man showed up in the pouring rain. He spent hours in John’s study and John related the story to him. A wet, homely looking middle aged man with glasses had come to the door. John and he went into his study. There were sounds of a scuffle. Ed had knocked on the door and asked if everything was alright. “Don’t come in! Just don’t!” John screamed. The door opened and the man calmly walked out and John followed suit. “What was that, sir?” “Long story. Come on. Have a drink with me.” John told him what happened. The man was a scientist of the highest echelon who had found a way to create a serum that would make anyone into a willing slave, but only over time. He had given John all his notebooks. “Why did he give you these?” “We’re…old friends. When he showed me the vial I don’t know what came over me. I just took it from him and looked at it and then I did something rather unspeakable. I lunged at him, pinned him down and made him swallow all of it.” “You did WHAT? Sir, you are in the House of Lords. You can’t afford a scandal.” “You don’t understand. It worked. You have to dilute it, he said. Said that in its pure form it could be dangerous. Well, I just didn’t think that anyone should know about it. He wanted M16 to have it, but I told him to never speak of it to anyone. Works like hypnotism, anyone who swallows it has to do what you tell them. I had to slam his arm on the floor so he’d open his mouth.” “And now?” “Now he has to obey my instructions. He will go about his life as normal and not ever tell anyone about this night ever again.” “Sir, and you think he will keep ‘is trap shut, sir?” “I do. He was never one to lie and I’m afraid I can’t let it fall into the wrong hands. The truth of what happened here tonight must never leave this house.” John poured himself a brandy. John put all the scientist’s findings in a safe. The incident blew over but a week later John had his unfortunate stroke and died. The first thing Ed did after everyone went home and the grieving widow went to stay with relatives was crack the safe. A bunch of gold was in there, as well as the notebooks. He took the notebooks. He was able to replicate the formula but it wasn’t easy and some items took some doing to find. Part of the way the formula worked was that whoever “imprinted” their voice onto you shortly after ingestion was going to be the only one the hypnotic suggestion worked for. In other words, if he was the first person to talk to you after you drank part of the solution, his voice would be the one you obeyed, but not anyone else’s. At least not if you didn’t talk to anyone within the timeframe of an hour. Ed had used the formula in only small amounts on Wesley over the years, gaining his following, his adoration. But part of the consequence of using it on it on a young test subject was that the puberty of said subject would be delayed quite considerably. Wesley wasn’t even able to cum until he turned 17, and was far mor underdeveloped than most boys. His dick was only 2 inches long for fuck’s sake. No facial hair yet and the lad was nearly 27 years old. He looked no older than the boy Devon he was talking to in the other room. Ed had felt no guilt in using Wesley as his test subject but had come to truly love the lad. He was his for life now, that much was certain, and he wanted to rectify certain things now. He had an entire company filled with gay men that did his bidding because he had dosed every single one of them with slave juice. He had dosed all the organized criminals in the area as well. It wasn’t really a very hard ascent to power. It took a very short time for him to dominate his world, and get dozens of men and eventually hundreds to worship the ground he walked on. He could snap his fingers at any one of them and they would jump at the opportunity to do his bidding. ENGLAND, 1997 One day, Ed decided to track down the original scientist who created the hypno formula that worked so well to create slaves for his enjoyment and well being. He couldn’t dose the man since he’d already been imprinted but he did find out where he worked. He had a detective put together a list of potential victims and eventually dosed a man with high clearance. This man was a biochemist. One of the smartest men in the world. Ed put him to work right away. He explained the slave formula and said he wanted to make an antidote. Even though the man had been dosed he understood his own predicament. He lived to serve Ed, but knew if he wanted a life of his own again, he would have to invent an antidote. Not just an antidote. With the notes of the original scientist, who had been told to never share those findings with anyone, they discovered the secrets of how to change the male human brain. There were a few “switches” and the slave switch worked quite well. But what about a “master” switch? As it turned out, there was one. But it wasn’t quite enough. The first formula worked mentally but also physiologically. Wesley was barely into the first stage of puberty even though he was 27 and Ed wanted to know if that process could be sped up, if it was possible to grow the lad. The new scientist slave admitted that muscle growth technology had existed for over twenty years but that it had been utterly repressed due to the side effects. Ed smiled. “What might those be?” he had asked. He ordered the scientist to never mention his name to anyone, ever, or mention any of their conversations. He then ordered him to create a batch of the serum. Ed had given Wesley a brandy to drink. The lad rarely ever drank alcohol as it was usually reserved for masters. Wesley’s transformation to submissive slave was based on Ed’s whims and they had grown stronger over the years. But now he had so many slaves that he wanted to shake things up a bit and create a TRUE son, a son that would be perfect to take his name. Any true son of his would have to be a born master. As Wesley drank the brandy, he noticed something happening with him and Devon. He was feeling very strange. All his life he had felt inferior to other men and had wanted nothing more than to serve them. But now that he was with Devon, and his master father had given him the go ahead, he couldn’t believe he was warming up to the idea! He had become so used to being a slave that the idea of domination was to him, unthinkable. He didn’t talk to Devon much. He sat in the armchair his master had usually occupied and surmised the boy. He was definitely a pretty boy, prettier even than Wesley. He looked like a model. His eyes were so deep and blue, his hair was so auburn brown it shone. His face so bright and happy and beckoning. Wesley sat in the chair and finished the brandy. “Get over here.” “Yes, sir.” “Strip your clothes.” “Yes, master.” Wesley felt a thrill he had never felt before. He took off all his clothes and stood there with his 2 inch dick hanging out. “Suck me off, slave.” Devon happily agreed to do so. That night, Wesley went to sleep in a bed for the first time in years. It was disorientating but he enjoyed it. Devon did sleep on the floor. When he got up in the morning and went to pee, he saw that his little dick had grown by as much as an inch. “What the fuck is going on?” He came downstairs. Ed was smoking a cigar and wearing one of his expensive suits. “Hullo, lad. Glad you’re up. We need to talk.” Ed told him about the formula and what changes he could expect. At least, he told him about the “alpha” formula. He neglected to mention he had stunted the boy’s growth throughout his life, which had resulted in him having a shrunken dick that could barely cum more than a trickle and never fully orgasm. And he neglected to mention he was responsible for the boy growing up to want nothing more than to be his slave. He let Wesley think these were natural things that Ed had managed to correct with the right contacts. “You wanted me to be like you,” Wesley said in wonder. “Do you ‘ave a problem becomin’ like your old man?” “No. It’s just…different. I’m going to grow? Actually grow?” “As big as a fucking house with the dosage I gave you.” Wesley looked at his image in the giant gold-framed mirror in the living room. He still looked very much like a boy with black hair growing fairly wildly. A boy who looked ridiculous in a grown man’s suit giving orders to other men. But soon no longer. Wesley started wearing his old clothes, the ones he used to wear to work or around the house before his father had declared he stop wearing them altogether. He felt suddenly that he had no desire to serve anyone. He felt amazed by this, and took to ordering Devon around with gusto. He had paid attention to all the other masters at work quite well and found he was capable of being quite harsh sounding when he wanted to be. And after a week his clothes started to feel quite snug. After ten days he barely fit into any of them. They bought new clothes for him. As he grew taller, he also grew in bulk. Whereas before, no matter how much he worked out always resulted in a look where he resembled a fourteen year old at best, now he was growing wider. His rib cage actually looked like it was expanding! He started to grow facial hair, and he realized it one day when he kept scratching at his face for some reason. He had never had any before and thought maybe he had a rash at first. But then he realized it was a thin line of peach fuzz. He was so excited he decided not to shave. By the next day it was a little bit more distinct and by day three it had turned into a full shadow, graphite gray smearing and adorning his once angelic cheeks. It was such a vast difference that for the first time in his life, people started to see him as an adult walking down the street. He had grown three inches and although he was only 5’5” it was still better than the practical midget size he had been. Women started to notice him. Another few weeks went by. His father had ordered him to work out every day and he developed muscles all over. His pecs were taut and visible, his biceps small but much firmer than before, his calves and thighs striated with veins. His dick got up to five whole inches. He ordered Devon around and took joy in making him cook and clean while naked. The boy smiled at him constantly and now that his dick was bigger he could finally cum like a man. He started fucking Devon in the ass now that he had a length where he could actually accomplish this! It was so hot for him to do so. The first time he penetrated Devon’s perfectly white and tight asshole was one of the best moments of his life. He actually could feel the liquid gushing through his dick and into the orifice eagerly awaiting it! The rush of it! He had never experienced anything like it before! The next week saw some pretty profound changes. He developed body hair, pubic hair, and had already begun shaving every day, which he took to proudly. He got a haircut and now looked like an average male adult in his early 20s. He had reached 5’7” He had to buy new shoes and new clothes again. He tried to just buy one or two outfits since he had no idea how far he would be growing and he made sure to buy them in areas far outside the town he lived in. No one recognized him at all and he realized that he was going to have a problem with identity. Who would believe he was himself? Ed told him not to worry, that after his transformation was complete, he would get new paperwork drawn up and give him a new identity. Ed had really saved him, he thought. No longer was he a quivering little boy drawn to servicing other men. Now he was his own man with his own suck slave! He began snapping his fingers and barking orders around the house. “Slave! Get me some tea! Slave! Run a bath for me! I’ve been working out and I need to relax! Slave! Get me a beer! Slave! Get over here and suck me off, I’m really in the mood to cum in your mouth, boy!” It was a drastic change in his attitude and he couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want to. Another week saw him entering into real jock territory. His biceps became even fuller. His pecs and back were very visible. His nipples would strut out if he wore a T-shirt and he started to become very cocky in public. He began to give women a look that made them desire him. His back had wings now, and it impressed him to the point where he would study his reflection every day and admire his growth, sometimes for an hour or more at a time. Several times he had to jerk off at his new reflection. In just six short weeks after he got up to 6 feet. Ed was 6 foot 3 inches. He wondered if he could get to that level. It was a thrill to see his dad face to face now whenever they were together. He beamed all the time and when he worked out started to feel so empowered he felt like he could punch holes through walls. The testosterone rush was new to him and he felt the urge to punch things more. He thought about beating up his slave but since he never experienced that himself, refrained from doing so. He told his father how he felt one night. “You need to come to the fighting ring and get that aggression out. Trust me, you’ll thank me.” The first time Wesley fought another man was one week later. By that time he had reached 6’1” and weighed in at 180 pounds of solid muscle. He worked out like a maniac every day and thought about fucking and muscle and nutrition constantly. His father had been overseeing his diet and his slave Devon had been under strict orders to adhere to cooking a healthy regimen. It took Wesley a week of studying boxing and fighting. He would watch VHS tapes of it and absorb all of it. Suddenly he had the urge to do real violence and he thrilled over it. He was quick and efficient in the fighting ring. The ring was actually held in an abandoned warehouse and all the guys there were chavs, so he dressed the part. He was taller than a lot of them and he couldn’t wait to make them pay, make them pay for laughing at him behind his back, all the men over the years who thought they were superior to him. All these thoughts came to him in a rush. He was by far the least experienced fighter there but he learned quickly after just one punch to his face he beat his opponent to a pulp. He was quick and strong and he felt like screaming in primal lust after bloodying the first man he did. He circled his prey one by one and took three of them down before Ed called it for the day and clapped him on the back, congratulated him, and said he had become a true man among men. The other fighters shook hands with him and many asked him how long he’d been fighting and asked for some pointers. Wesley smiled mischievously. He grew and grew. His muscles were like temples now, holy and sacred. His pecs had become truly meaty slabs and he pleasured to the point of creaming himself with hundred pound dumbbells and the thought that he was actually becoming a fucking god. In two months after drinking the alpha serum he hit the 200 pound mark. He started getting his hair cut in a military style, and his face had changed considerably. His jaws were much bigger now and the stubble in combination made him look like a true warrior. He had gone from having a slightly oval face to a square one, and he commanded attention wherever he went now. His biceps were the size of small melons. He enjoyed intimidating other men in public just by walking past them, and looking down and smiling. He was now 6’3” the exact same height as his father and still growing. His dick had grown steadily and was now at 7 inches. “Hey, slave! Did you clean up my bedroom?” “Yes, Master Wesley. I did, sir.” Devon bowed to him. “Good. Get over here and suck me off. God, I love your throat, slave.” The jock god had on most days been wearing gym clothes and cheap T-shirts. He presented his dick and smiled arrogantly as the much smaller man sucked him off, like a good sub. His leg muscles were easily bigger than Devon’s head now. He felt like he could run for miles around the smaller man. Everything about being big was good. He looked like an Olympic athlete or better. He peaked finally at 6’6” and 240 pounds. He was an absolute giant. He looked nothing like his former self and intimidated practically anyone he came across with his now constant smirks or scowls. Just one flex of his arms told other men to back the fuck off. He would sometimes go to bars just to mop the floor of the place with some drunk asshole and humiliate him because the idea of embarrassing a lesser man excited him to the point of nearly cumming in his pants. Wesley had the drunk’s head in a headlock. The man was trying in vain to escape. “Now that was real stupid, wasn’t it? Are you going to be smart and back down? Are you going to apologize to the lady?” The beautiful woman crossed her arms and looked at Wesley approvingly, and repeated his sentence. “Yeah, are you going to apologize to me?” “I’m really sorry.” “You shouldn’t call women sluts if they don’t want to sleep with you, mate. Or a cunt. In fact, the only cunt here is you. Say it.” “I’m..I’m cunt.” Wesley dropped the man who landed on the floor with a thud. “Thank you,” the woman said impressed and delighted. “My pleasure,” Wesley said, grinning. His dick was a full 8 inches flaccid and nearly 10 when engorged. Devon was definitely having a harder time pleasuring him so they had upped the ante by using a hole clamp to extend the young boy’s asshole. Wesley changed his name officially to “Dominic Bester” and finally splurged on nicer clothes now that he had a body that wasn’t going to grow out of them. His perfect, charming smile won over everyone he came across. His voice had dropped considerably from that of a timid boy to a bass that made lesser men and women quiver in lust. Dom Bester made his first appearance as VP of the company to all the men that had worked there for years. And since they were all slaves to his father, none of them had a problem with the fact that they had never heard of this other son of Edward Bester. With his tall godlike appearance, deep commanding voice and winning personality that was almost a carbon copy of his father’s, Dom fit in right away and took to ordering around his subordinates with ease. And he seemed to know the business intimately well. It was uncanny to the brainwashed crew of gay alpha men. But when Ed told them that Dom was really more than an equal, that he truly was their superior, they believed it wholeheartedly. Ed announced he was leaving for a month and left Dom in charge while he was away in London. The orgies began again at home, and this time it was Devon that was on the receiving end of things. Dom enjoyed fucking his boy and then watching a line of men fuck him as well. When Ed had found Devon the boy had been homeless and eating out of garbage bins. Now he was in bliss getting fucked by a room full of muscle daddies… … “How are those reports coming?” Dom asked Keith and Carl. “Almost done, boss.” Carl replied. “Well it was due this morning. You two know what that means.” Dom said, snapping his fingers. The two followed the larger man in his expensive pinstripe suit. Dom adjusted his lapels and drew the blinds as the two men disrobed and presented themselves to suck his dick while he lit up a cigar at his desk. “Oh. Yeah. That’s right. Suck that dick, you cunt. That’s what a real man’s dick is like, in’t it, cunt?” Dom, formerly Wesley said, chomping on his cigar. Carl he wanted to make out with a little first. Though the blond hunk had no idea that the man who intimidated the hell out of him now used to be his own sex slave made Dom even hornier. He held the cigar in his hand and smiled in a primal, hedonistically superior way. “I want you to bark like a dog, cunt.” Carl did so. “Now stop. Now take this dog food and eat it out of this bowl, cunt. You too, shit for brains.” Soon his subordinates were eating dog food out of a bowl while he laughed. The new Dom Bester could choose between any of 15 men from work to come home and be his lover for the night. They were all overcome with lust for him and he topped them all. Sometimes two or three in a row depending on his mood, before dismissing them to go home. And he would not spare them his wrath at work. He would gladly reward good work and humiliate and berate the ones that fell behind. The new Dom Bester would reflect on his former status as he chomped his cigar while wearing his suits, walking around town so he could simply have the joy of looking down on shorter men he came across and smiling to himself in deep satisfaction. He would think of the short nerdy slave boy he had been and the true man he had become. Throughout this ordeal, Ed and his new son Dom had not engaged in sex. The imprint was gone on the former James and Dom had taken his place. They were like two different people and Dom smiled as he saw his now shorter dad come in one night as he curled 120 pound dumbbells in the living room. “Hey, Dad.” “Son. You’re looking amazing.” “Haven’t seen you in a month. Did you miss me?” Dom asked arrogantly and flexed. “I did, quite a lot. You’re just so fucking ripped now. So fucking big, I’m so fuckin’ proud of you!” “Thanks, dad. I’m up to 260 pounds now! That creatine you gave me has done wonders, wouldn’t you say?” Dom made his huge man pecs dance for his father. “Indeed! My god, the size of you! You really have outgrown me, and I’m proud to say it.” “You should be proud of me. I upped our client list this month by 3%.” “What? That’s amazing! What’d you do?” “I told people why they should go with our men and I’m very convincing when I want to be. Wouldn’t you say?” “I’m proud of you! We should have a drink to celebrate!” “Let’s go to the pub and have a pint, mate!” Ed blinked. It was the first time his son had used the word “mate” with him. That was new, but this was a new territory they were in. At the pub, Ed couldn’t believe how big his son was in comparison to other men, how he carried himself, how he strutted about like he owned the place, how he intimidated other men playing pool, how he challenged a few men to armwrestling only to smile arrogantly as they shied away. “Son, this is right fantastic is what this is. You’re going to be the man that can truly represent this company. You’re all man, son!” “Don’t I know it. Cheers!” Dom smiled as his dad drank his ale. “Let’s go outside. Now.” Ed blinked and complied. He followed his massive son, not believing how wide the man’s back had become. The back of a true warrior god! “Alright then, pops, here’s the deal. I want you to get in the car and I’ll drive us home. Then you’re going to get inside and take off all your clothes. And then you’re going to beg me to suck on my 10 inch cock.” “Right.” “Right, sir. I want you to call me “SIR” from now on, dad. Or better yet, Master. Master Dom has a nice ring to it, wouldn’t you say.” “It sure does, Master Dom. Sir.” “Mmm mm. You are a good looking motherfucker, still. I will say. Can’t wait to get you home. When was the last time another man fucked you again?” “Heh. I’ve never let another man go near my hole. I ain’t never been fucked yet.” “Well now, then it’s high time someone popped your motherfucking cherry, right lad?” Dom said, smiling as he drove. At home, Dom slammed the door as his father walked ahead of him, discarding all clothes as Dom positioned him to get fucked. He got one of his old dildos and shoved it deep into his father’s crack as the old man groaned. “Jesus Christ, that hurts!” “Well you should get used to it because you’re never going to fuck anyone ever again. You’re my new fuck slave, you stupid motherfucker!” He took out the dildo. His dick was at full mast. He began to tenderly shove it into his dad’s hole. “I love you and you are my father. But things are going to change a lot. Oh god that feels good! I’m fuckin’ my dad! Hell yes! Oh! Oh god!” Dom grunted and thrusted for a half hour, just breaking in his dad’s hole. It turned him on terribly that he was bigger than his father now. “You like that, old man? You dumb motherfucker. You didn’t think I’d find out your dirty little secrets, did you? Well I opened up the safe, FAGGOT. I found out what you did to me, making me a fuck slave all those years. Stunting my growth. Making me weak and servile!” He fucked his father to emphasize each word. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” He came inside his father and soon the hold was overflowing with Dom’s cum, landing like pudding on the carpet. “Now lick that up. Lick up everything dripping out of your asshole. Lick my cum off the floor as it’s fucking precious, isn’t it?” “Yes, Master Dom.” “Stupid motherfucking shithead. I still love you, don’t get me wrong. But you’re going to be obeying me from now on, fuckhead.” Dom looked down on his father as he gathered cum out of his own asshole that his son had left there and cupped it into his mouth, tasting his own ass with the cum, then when that was accomplished licking the carpet of any precious liquid that escaped. Dom lit a cigar and was exhilarated by the nicotine rush. “You only gave me one of these once. You thought it was funny to let me try one, then you never did again. Well, now the cigars are all mine, pops. The house is mine, too. Everything is mine, the company, the whorehouse, the fighting pits. You’re going to give it all to me.” “Right, son. I mean, Master Dom, sir.” Dom smoked his cigar in deep satisfaction. He flexed before the father he’d had since the age of ten. “I’ve got to thank you for this body. It’s much better than the old one, don’t you think? I’m a fucking god now!” Every muscle in his body radiated power as he said those words. His every movement betrayed how superior he felt, and how massive. His every movement he could feel how heavy he was, how strong, how much stronger than other weaker men. “I can lift 400 goddamn pounds now, pops!” Dom blew smoke and sneered at his father. “Bow to me. Bow to your master.” “Yes, master.” “Say I’m a god.” “You’re a god, Master.” “And you worship me, don’t you, faggot?” “I worship you. I am a faggot.” “And for the rest of your life you’re going to continue to work out for me, and be my houseslave. Now get me a goddamn ale, shithead.” “Yes, Master.” … One week later, Ed announced his retirement. Dom would take over the family business. A few weeks later… Dom was on the phone being very forward. “No, I didn’t say it was alright for you to do that. Do what I tell you to do the first time or I find someone else. You have 24 hours to make this right. Do not disappoint me or you’re fired.” He hung up. “Johnson! Where are you? Johnson!” “Yes, sir. Right away, Mr. Bester. How may I assist you, sir?” “Those insurance forms,” Dom commanded. “For the new client. Did you fill them out yet?” “Uh..they are half-way done, sir.” “Half-way doesn’t pay our bills. Does it? Does half-way pay our bills?” Dom scowled at Carl. “No, sir. I’ll finish them right away, sir.” “See that you do, Johnson. Or I’ll find someone that can.” Dom put the cigar back in his mouth and shut the door to his office, walked back and put his feet up on the desk and his hands behind his dead. Life was good. This weekend the orgy had changed slightly. Devon, though he hadn’t taken the alpha serum, was happily fucking Edward Bester. He had never fucked anyone and it felt really, really good. “Am I doing good, Master?” “Oh, you’re doing fantastic, mate. Keep it up, keep fucking my dad.” The line behind him included about 9 different men from the company, all of whom were taking their turns with Edward, fucking his hole and making him scoop up the cum as it dribbled out of his recently devirginized hole and devour it like it was candy. “This is fucking great. Our boss one week, our cum dumpster the next!” “Mate, how you doin? You won’t more dick?” “Yes, masters. Please fuck me. All of you..please…OW! OW oh GOD this hurts, Master!” “Keep going, Devon. Don’t stop!” Dom commanded. Devon happily continued with a blissful look on his face. When he was homeless he was so scared and now he lived in a mansion with proper gentlemen and he was fucking a bloke for the first time. It was heaven! Each man took his turn with Edward and they all left a very happy group. “Did you enjoy that, pops?” Dom asked. “Doesn’t feel very nice, getting’ plowed by ten guys in a row, does it? Well, get used to it. Because I’m going to give you about, oh, ten years more. See, that’s when you started plowing me, from 17 to 27, so I figure I owe you ten years. And from what I read, you might shrink a bit.” “Oh. No, master! Please, anything but that Master!” Dom came over to the spot Edward was kneeling. “Stand up, slave!” Edward did so with a fearful look on his face. Dom slapped him across the face forcefully. “Don’t you ever presume to talk to me that way again! I own your pathetic slave ass, don’t I?” “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, Master.” “Mmm. I just can’t wait to see you after you shrink. I gave you a rather large dose so according to the projection analysis, you should be about 5’2” when this whole thing is over.” Edward began to cry. It was the first time Edward had ever cried in front of Dom, who had once been Wesley. “Stop crying, you baby!” Dom fished a cigar out of his expensive suit jacket pocket and lit it up. “Now, why don’t you hop into some red nighty negligee and wait in bed for me. I’m going to give you a nice long fuck like you deserve. Little man.” Dom said, slapping his stepfather on the ass as hard as he could. Edward wiped his tears and did as his son commanded. “Now then, how’s about a little muscle worship, Devon?” “Yes, Master.” Devon happily felt his master’s enormous Olympian muscles as Dom laughed. “You know, I used to be a lot like you. But I truly like you, Devon, and you deserve to be happy. How’d you like to get big like me?” He puffed his cigar. “I would like that a lot, Master. I would like that a lot…” THE END
  19. NYBear

    SEED (Part 2)

    SEED - Part 2 Jack was starting to lose himself again due to the power of the aroma that was covering the wing of Jason’s hospital floor like a thick luscious fog. His cock, if possible, was even harder than it had been back at the farm and it felt as if every part of his body was building up into a sexual frenzy that he knew he soon would not be able to control. He contemplated leaving and going back down the elevator, when he saw a box of surgical masks on the floor. Hopeful that it would help, he picked one up and put it on. Even though he was still incredibly horny he was able to regain some more control of his body. The fabric of the mask must have been filtering just enough of the aroma to let him keep his wits, but his yearning for an orgasm was still at an incredible level and he didn’t know how long he would be able to keep from completely succumbing to the feeling he was feeling. To describe the feeling, would be like he was right on the edge of a constant orgasm that never let up. It was combined by an incredible desire to have someone fuck him both in his ass and mouth. He knew that if the mask came off, he would completely fail to resist the feeling and be a pawn in this euphoric atmosphere. Part of him screamed to rip the mask off and just relish in the erotic abyss, but he knew he needed answers. He knew he had to help his uncle. So, after surveying the environment of the hospital wing, he began to walk down the hall toward Jason’s room. Along the way, he noticed drug carts on their sides, holes in the walls, broken glass everywhere and a very sticky substance on the floor and walls. Basically he thought it looked like a war zone. As he passed by the various rooms that were open, it seemed weird and ominous that there were only a very few people there and even stranger, that they all were men. There wasn’t a woman to be seen. As well, each one of them seemed to be in some sort of trance. He figured it was the same type of trance as he had experienced it himself. Their eyes were open, but their faces were of euphoric expressions and they were in a constant heightened state of orgasm. All of them were naked and as Jake looked down their bodies, it was very visible that each of them had been having various episodes of orgasms as cum covered most of their bodies and beds. Also, their cocks were at a constant state of full erection; some just slowly spurting or oozing out more cum. They weren’t frozen in their beds, but they were writhing around and sexually touching themselves, by pinching their nipples, stroking their cocks and fingering their assholes. He felt envious. Jack also noticed in some of the rooms and on the floor of the hallways, orderlies, male nurses, doctors and every man that he had seen was in the same euphoric coma. Jake knew that if his mask were to come off, he would be joining them. He checked the straps to make sure they were good and tight, but something in the back of his mind just wanted to untie the straps and to join the men and he even had a burning desire to suck and fuck them as a few of them had found each other and were fucking to no abandon. He shook his head to get the thoughts out. He stepped over and around the mass orgy of men and as he grew closer to where he thought was Jason’s room, he tread even more cautiously. He was afraid that his uncle must have been somewhere around to cause this as Jack had figured that he caused what happened to him on the farm. He remembered when he saw his uncle tear off into the fields and he wondered if he had made it to the hospital first. He feared for Jason as well. He hoped that Jason would have been able to help him with the situation, but if he was in the same state as these men, then all hope may have been lost. Just as a depression about that began to set in, Jack saw a few other nurses and doctors who were actually walking in and out of what should have been Jason’s room down at the end of the hall. He thought, “Oh thank God…At least some of them are still…well…them.” These men all had their clothes on but there were definite wet stains around their crotches, where they must had fallen victim to his uncle’s desires. Stranger still was that the closer he got to Jason’s room, he noticed that the nurses and doctors, all male of course, looked to be of their own minds and none of them were wearing masks either, so how was it that they weren’t totally incapacitated like the others. They were all larger in size than the rest of the men that were in the euphoric state. Their clothes were very tight across their bodies and even some of their clothes were torn where it looked as though their muscles had pushed through. All of them looked as large as guys who had spent years at the gym or on a stage. None of them were as large and obscene as his uncle, but all of them were definitely buff and in various sizes of muscle and thickness. They were bodybuilder, power lifter, and bouncer looking. Even a few of them were shirtless and two of them were actually completely naked with massive bodybuilder bodies that had even larger muscles and cocks that must have been well over 8 inches, soft. Jack’s still hard cock shot precum out of it as he saw them. It seemed that those two men, one being slightly smaller than the other, were the leaders of the other men that he could see, with the larger one being the boss. He noticed that a few of the other’s had called them both doctor, but he couldn’t make out their last names. Jack stopped dead in his tracks and watched the men. He stared at them as they moved around and in and out of Jason’s room, and some were carrying large containers. He leaned against the wall and looked intently at how their muscles moved and flexed as they moved. He noticed the power in their arms and their asses pushing the fabric of their scrubs to the limit. All of them were definitely packing as huge bulges pushed out their pants or underwear. A few of them would walk by each other and briefly stop and kiss deeply, encircling their tongues and feeling each other’s bodies. Jack was completely transfixed on them. His own hands began to feel under his shirt and his right hand found his nipple. He squeezed it and moaned quietly to himself. He watched their wet crotches and the huge shafts of the two naked muscle Gods and his mouth began to moisten. His breathing rapidly began to increase and his other hand found his own mound in his pants. He squeezed his rock hard cock and he moaned out loud this time. Behind him, to the left, he noticed a large oblong knob of a drawer and he moved in front of it and deliberately pressed the knob into the crack of his ass as he began to move his hips back and forth. His eyes closed and visions of his uncle fucking him from behind began to send Jack over the edge. He grabbed the desk in front of him and pushed harder into the knob. He pushed so hard that he could feel the knob pushing against his hole, pushing the fabric, demanding entrance. He unknowingly called out, “OH GOD YES…FUCK ME!” This caused him to open his eyes and he saw the larger naked muscle god start to walk over to him. He watched with pleasure as he could see that the man’s cock was growing and getting hard and massive, ending at a full mast of well over 12 inches, which only made Jack’s insatiable desire even heighten. He nodded his head to the stud while licking his lips. He wanted this. He needed this more than ever. There was nothing that he craved more. He knew for some reason this isn’t why he had come here, but he didn’t care. It was all that he desired. The filter of the mask was failing. His constant fucking of the knob had caused the fabric of his shorts to begin to give way and to his wonderful surprise the knob broke through smashing hard into Jack’s willing hole as he let out a cry of joy. “OH JESUS!! YES!!” Instantly, as if by instinct, he feverishly began to fuck the knob in and out of his asshole. The knob was about 5 inches long and it looked like a butt plug with the middle of the knob being the thickest part and it perfectly fit into Jack’s hungry ass. It was the best feeling he had ever felt before. The most he ever had was his hands to pleasure himself, whether it be jerking his cock or teasing his hole, but he had never experienced anything even remotely inside him and it was amazing. Jack was a 26 year old virgin. The muscle God was now in front of him and Jack looked up at him the towering 6.5 foot man and nodded his head, saying one word as he begged, “Please!” The man smiled and nodded in acceptance so Jack took one of the man’s large quarter sized nipples into his mouth and he began to suck on it, flicking it with his tongue and nibbling it as he sucked like a baby starving for its milk. This caused the muscle god to moan loudly and he grabbed Jack’s head pushing his face hard into his granite chest. Feeling the sheer power of the man, made Jack feel like he knew it was his job to please this man and to be his servant and he was willing to give his body to do so. Jack was accepting that he was a muscle pig. He sucked feverishly on the man’s entire chest going from pec to pec, to nipple, to flexed bicep, to abs to pit, licking and worshiping the muscle that was before him. As he sucked and worshiped the huge torso, the man picked up Jack’s lower body raising his feet off the ground and he began to help the knob fuck him harder and harder. The man tore Jack’s pants more to ease in the knob’s dominance of Jack. As he went back on forth on the knob, Jack began to scream out in complete pleasure and then he pleaded to suck the man’s cock. As soon as Jack pleaded for the man’s cock, the man pushed Jack’s head down and he felt the mask come off as he opened his mouth as wide as he could. He no longer cared about succumbing to his uncle’s aroma. His only desire and will was to serve the man in front of him. He was now this man’s property. He opened his mouth as wide as he could as he barely fit the man’s giant prick into his mouth. This was the first cock that Jack had ever had in his mouth, but it was like he had been doing it for years. It was as if it was instinct. Even though the sides of his mouth hurt, he didn’t care. He licked under the head with his tongue and he inched himself lower and lower sinking the man’s cock deeper into him causing the man himself to reach a frenzied pitch of euphoria. The man held Jack’s head as he fucked the boy’s face. By this time, a group of some of the other muscled men had walked over to the scene and had disrobed all of their clothes as they were stroking intently on their larger than normal shafts. The men’s voices were deep and low as they egged on Jack and his new master, the boss. They pulled off Jack’s shirt and a couple of them began to touch Jack’s chest, squeezing his nipples. Hands and mouths were all over Jack’s body and the feeling was incredible. As Jack feverishly sucked the bosses cock, the other smaller naked muscle man pulled him off of the knob with a pop and he took off Jack’s pants and all of the rest of his clothes. Then he replaced the knob with the tip of his cock. Before he could enter Jack, the Boss, put his hands around Jack’s waist and picked him up, twisting him around upside, keeping his cock in Jack’s mouth, and then for the first time, Jack’s felt what it was like to have his cock in someone’s mouth. The smaller god began to kiss Jack’s ass and then he began to lick his freshly fucked hole, with a tongue invading where the knob used to be. This was more than Jack cold take and within only a few moments Jack exploded into his partner’s mouth. He thought that the orgasm at the farm was the most he had ever cum but this time it was so powerful and long lasting that Jack could literally feel his balls emptying out and along with his identity. He was now becoming like the others and he didn’t care. Oddly enough, his insatiable desire, did not subside after his orgasm, in fact, it seemed to make it increase. Jack continued to suck on the boss’s massive cock and the boss turned Jack back around so that his feet were back on the floor. That’s when the smaller god pushed his wet thick cock into Jack’s willing ass. As with the boss, the smaller god took charge of his end of Jack. He fucked Jack hard and passionately, moving in and out around pushing his cock in as far as he could go and then tease Jack’s ass with the massive cockhead right at the opening of his ass. For what seemed like an eternity of bliss, the two men fucked Jack from both ends, just as he had desired earlier. Neither of them spoke a word, but Jack knew that he was there boy, their play thing and he couldn’t have been happier. They made no commands to him, they just were in charge. It was almost telepathic in nature; Jack would just realize that he needed to lick the boss’s balls and then concentrate on the cock head for a while. Jack knew when to back into the smaller man’s cock so that he was doing all the work and then he would clinch his ass just right to make the smaller man moan in ecstasy. The three of them were a well-oiled machine of premium sex. They remained constant like this for more than an hour, never ebbing, only increasing. Then Jack knew it was time to make his owners cum, he simultaneously worked on the boss’s cock giving him long deep insertions into his mouth all the while tonguing the underneath of the cock, which he instinctively knew was the boss’s favorite. As well, he tightened up his ass like a vise and pulsated his fuckhole to make his 2nd master go wild. Meanwhile, the onlookers where firing off their own orgasms and covering the three with their cum, soaking their bodies with warm electrifying energy. As the pinnacle neared, both of his masters began to moan louder and he could literally feel their rising orgasms as he himself was on the verge of a euphoric explosion. First to cum was the boss. With one final thrust so that his cock was entirely down Jack’s throat, he erupted shot after shot, down into Jack’s gut. There was so much cum that was filling him up; Jack could feel his stomach push tighter against his skin as it filled to capacity. Then just as strong as the boss’s orgasm, his other master’s cock shot deep into his ass, filling up his intestines and stomach even more. The sensation of having both men shooting deep into him almost simultaneously, caused Jack to have another orgasm of his own, without even trying to touch himself to accomplish the deed. As all three of them continued to cum, Jack’s stomach grew to look like a man with a beer gut hard and full. Amazingly, both men had shot so hard and so far up into Jack, that not a drop escaped his body. Then just as suddenly all three men stopped cumming and Jack realized for the first time, that the mask was now off, but that he was still okay. Then both of his masters simultaneously uttered their only words, “I am so very proud of you Jack, you have taken the first step to becoming part of the plan and you will be at my side, changing humanity forever. Take in the gift you have been given and then come to me and be at my side. Your uncle will be joining us soon.” Jack realized the voice that came out of the two men. It was Jason. Suddenly, Jack felt his stomach begin to gargle and he could feel the cum begin to absorb into him, Then he began to feel very different. He felt more alive and have felt stronger…a lot stronger. He grabbed ahold of the boss to steady himself as he felt heavier. His cock actually began to grow even though it was already rock hard. His balls began to fill and grow as well. Jack could feel his chest expand and his nipples became super sensitive. Both pecs filled up as if pumped up with air, but what he felt fill them was strength and power. His back began to widen as his traps grew around his thickening neck. His arms filled with power and grew to be just shy of his boss’s arms that were on either side of him. He flexed his upper arms and marveled in the bulbous power they produced. He felt massive and superior. He let go of his old masters and he stood up, realizing that he was now taller than both of them at around 7 feet. His upper body was not larger than that of the smaller god and he turned to him and smiled as he now was superior to him. He grabbed the smaller man’s face and kissed him hard, causing the smaller guy to moan in submission to Jack. This made Jack feel in more superior. He turned to the larger god and he could see that the demeanor of him was now that of a subordinate. He grabbed the man’s ass and pulled him into him and he kissed him even more passionately than the first. The boss moaned and literally shot a small amount of cum onto Jack. Jack looked at the man and pointed to the cum running the length of his new hugely endowed cock. The man immediately bent down and licked his own cum off of Jack and then put Jack’s cock in his mouth to clean him off. Jack moaned himself and he listened as his voice had lowered many octaves to that of a thundering bass. He stood the man back up to his feet and picked him up in the process. The feeling of power coursed through his entire body, even his toes and fingers felt powerful. His looked down at his legs as they continued to build upon themselves and his thighs pushed together, causing his growing cock and balls to push out further in front of him. As his cock was pushing out in front, his ass filled up with strength and muscle and pushed outward, becoming two hard melons. What was once a soft pliable ass was now harder than rock and each cheek caved perfectly in on the sides, creating the perfect muscle butt. Not only were there growth and changes on the outside of Jack, but he felt his core strengthen along with his mind. He was sharper and more in tune with himself. His senses were heightened. He was able to smell even more of the pungent odor, actually dissecting the different ingredients in the aroma like, testosterone, various types of pheromones, pollens and proteins. He noticed that instead of it making him into a sexually incapacitated lump; it invigorated him and made him feel unstoppable. His eyesight increased as well and he welcomed the light as it cleared his vision for him to see much further with more clarity. He was also able to hear everything that anyone was saying, even on some of the other floors. Then they feeling of power increased in his skeletal and blood systems. His bones strengthened to that of tree trunks and his blood cells accelerated his heart beat that strengthened his immunity and help to soon make him indestructible. His nerves were heightened and he could literally feel what others were feeling. He could physically feel the attraction that others, like the previous masters were given him. It made his skin tingle and it fueled even more power inside of him. Everything that was happening was making him better, stronger, bigger and more superhuman. His brain as well, increased in strength as he was beginning to hear what others were thinking as well. His former muscle boss was now wishing for Jack to fuck him and Jack could feel that deep in his mind he was actually begging for it. So Jack decided to do an experiment. He thought about how he could make the man feel like Jack was actually fucking him with physically doing the act. He thought about what it would feel like to fuck the muscle god and then it happened. Jack wasn’t sure how he did it, but he just tried to project what he felt and what was in his mind as to how he would fuck the man and he saw this once mammoth boss, begin to moan as if he was slowly being fucked. Jack increased the intensity in his head and the man screamed out in pleasure as if Jack were actually fucking him. The boss’s eyes rolled back in his head and he started begging at the top of his lungs for Jack to fuck him harder. Jack thought it and the man, yelled “FUUUUUUUUUUCK” and shot stream after stream of hot cum all over the hallway. Jack just smiled and licked his lips, reveling in his new gifts that he had been given. Then as his change began to subside, the final bit of increased power and strength hit him as he felt stronger inside his crotch area as his Kegel muscles tightened and gained size and strength, actually pushing his taint down further. This cause the biggest wave of pleasure throughout Jack’s body causing him to growl so loudly that the walls shook. He now knew why his previous masters were able to shoot so hard and far into him. He decided to try out a second experiment. He looked over at the smaller muscle god and he gazed into the stud’s eyes as he commanded, yet again with his mind, that the man get on his knees and began to suck Jack’s newly improved 14 inch cock. To his astonishment, the man licked his lips and knelt in front of Jack’s massive frame. He took over half of Jack’s cock into his willing mouth and pushed it down into his throat. The man grabbed Jack’s ass and started fucking his own mouth with Jack. Within a few minutes Jack was nearing an orgasm that never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined. He grabbed the man’s head and held it there as he began to fire explosively into the man, which actually was shooting at such velocity that it was starting to tear apart the man’s oral cavity like bullets. Jack released him as the man shot back against the wall with a loud thud, and Jack knew the man was dead, but this didn’t stop Jack from cumming. His cock stopped shooting rounds off, but instead manifested into a huge steady stream of cum that was soaking everything and everyone with 20 feet of him. Jack roared at the top of his lungs as emptied his load everywhere. Inside his head, he heard 2 voices saying “Yes my son.” and “You are now ready for us.” He knew that they were Jason and his Uncle Roy. When he finally started to come down from the orgasm, he looked around and saw the larger muscle man, along with the other minions lapping up all of his cum that they could get. It was a frenzy of debauchery. He looked down the hall and yelled out in earnest, “JASON!!” “Yes, Jack…you may now see me!! You are now worthy!! Please come and join us, we have much to discuss!! PART 3 coming next week (As with before, your comments would be great!)
  20. Most recent chapter: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster Chapter 16: Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After Casey’s first workout demonstration for The Nineteen that afternoon promised to be brutal – and awesome - as he had hoped it would be. He knew he would love every moment of it. He knew it would almost make up for the confusion and fear he had felt the night before. He would be as strong as a god, sailing through every lift, every rep, every set with strength he didn’t know he had. Almost make up for it. Not quite. But maybe afterwards, he could pose for them? Just a little? In the locker room, alone, and about to go before these crazy huge guys once again, he ruminated. He was, if he admitted it to himself, not a little leery about these guys. After all, he had a big black eye. And just about 12 hours ago, thick, creamy jets of cum had shot from18 firehose cocks and plopped down on him while he lay tangled in a sweaty muscle mass mess with Karim Abdul, both of them with swelling black eyes and bloody noses. Kind of a strange introduction to the world of supreme muscle he had been looking forward to for two years – and had been fantasizing about for far longer. “I wonder what Miles would say,” he thought to himself. He had glanced at his black eye in the mirror in the locker room. It was fully open, not bloodshot, just rimmed with black and blue. Not too bad. Actually, it looked fucking hot. He quickly did a side chest. Bam. Nips high. Rivers of striations. Yeah. Lookin good. He was hot. He knew it, too. Or, rather, was beginning to know it. He found his old sweats, thoughtfully hanging up and waiting for him in a large locker with his name on it, which he assumed was his. He noted that the lockers themselves were almost like storage units, not the shameful, small individual skinny things most gyms had. He looked up, slightly startled. Musclemen Gunst and Obatu were suddenly there at the end of the locker row, waiting for them. At first he barely noticed what they were wearing. But then he saw. “What the fuck?” “You ready?” “Uh. Yeah.” “Let’s go, then.” He stripped down fast, found his old jock in the locker, and grabbing his huge cock and balls, shoveled his heavy machine into the pouch. As always, it sagged heavily, groaning softly from the weight of his manhood. He glanced down the row. Gunst and Obatu were blankfaced. Casey threw his sweats on. “Now?” “…..yeah.” Casey slammed the door and waddled towards them, throwing a bathsheet towel over his broad shoulders. “Let’s go lift.” Gunst and Obatu brought Casey onto the workout floor. All of the musclemen in the squad were in attendance, naturally wanting to see how much weight the pretty muscle boy Casey could handle. After all, he may be huge, and all realized he was pretty fucking strong in the ring. He could move fast, and his mandatory poses last night were impressive. But could the dude lift? Could he train?? Dr. Irving stood by with the video camera, fussily taking his precise notes. And Zaftig was there, of course, hanging back, saying nothing, just watching, watching. And now, at least, Casey could remember the dude’s name. Dr. Zaftig. After all, this was the dude who was going to make him huge. He nodded shyly to him. “Good afternoon, Dr. Zaftig.” “Good afternoon, Casey. Welcome to Valhalla.” “Thank you…” “Let’s get going, Casey,” said Sergeant Moster. “You’re keeping us waiting. Again.” “I’m sorry,” Casey said. Moster frowned. No signs of reaction to all the White Caps swimming around in his bloodstream. There were, inevitably, more moments of muscle awkwardness to be had first. First off, Casey was entirely unprepared for the men’s workout gear. His usual workout clothes fully covered him, a ripped and worn outfit of dirty, sweaty baggies, a sloppy oversized sweatshirt that seemed to have been made for a man of 600 pounds, and full-length sweatpants, ragged and much the worse for wear. Even in these baggies, his bulge loomed heavily, swaying from side to side as he came onto the floor. Moster had changed into his full-dress spotlessly clean green uniform slacks, boots, and a skin-tight regulation t-shirt. His mammoth black muscles gleamed with ferocious power, and his crisp, clinging t-shirt outlined every peak, valley, cut, bulge, thick vein and crevice of his astonishing physique. Casey tried not to stare at him. He was oddly drawn to this black mountain of muscle. “I wanna be as big as you someday,” he said softly to himself. The squad, on the other hand, he nervously noted, were all dressed in White Cap Night Valhalla regulation gym gear: ripped, torn and ragged wife-beaters with muscles bulging every which way. Dripping sweat, muscles red and inflamed, their workouts over. No shorts, Army boots, heavy cable socks, and sweaty, swollen, looming Army-green mesh jocks. Bulging packages protruded, looming cocks, also swaying heavily with each muscleman movement, all around the gym floor. “This is how you guys dress to work out?” asked Casey timidly. Okay, so it was still weird. His question was ignored. There was a lot of barely sheathed bulging heavy duty muscleman dick on this gym floor. His own was more modestly covered. If just as bulging. And just as evident. And no one’s on the floor appeared to be as big as Moster’s. Once again he stared for a moment at the man’s obviously huge, looming penis, outlined clearly in his green trousers. He could see the penis corona, even the deep piss slit through the thick dark khaki fabric. Moster sure wasn’t ashamed of his cock. So maybe Casey shouldn’t be ashamed, either. And what Casey couldn’t know is that the men, just having finished their workouts, were delaying their shower sports. White Caps racing in their bloodstreams. And holding back. Not 10 minutes before Moster had sternly separated Blankenship and Lang from some foreplay, giving each man a quick spanking on their bare bottoms before all the other men. Afterward Alvarez pulled Lang back and eyed him dangerously. There would be words between them tonight. Lang was staring at the floor. Blankenship, of course, was grinning. Toothlessly. “How about starting off with some incline flyes?” said Moster. “You need a warm-up set?” “I wanna stretch first,” said Casey. Miles had always taught him the necessity of proper technique. Light warm-ups were part of that, though once he actually started lifting, what constituted a warm-up for Casey might be a final blasted set for another man. “Always smart.” The men stood watching Casey intently. “Don’t you guys wanna go workout somewhere?” he blurted out. “We’re done,” said Alvarez. “We’re waiting for you.” Abdul was staring at him with undisguised hatred. Tiffany was smiling sweetly, butter not melting in his mouth. Schumacher was blank-faced, and all the scarier for it. The others were intent, if blank-faced. Even Hension, whose thoughts were usually betrayed on his handsome face, wasn’t reacting much. He just was staring. They were all staring. Casey shuffled off to a corner of the Marley mat and began his stretch routine, arms swinging, legs kicking, gentle but firm. The men watched him. “He’s bow-legged!” whispered Hension. Loudly. “Yes, we see that,” said Alvarez, mocking the whisper. “I think that’s so hot….!” Casey heard a resounding smack! echoing through the room. “Ow!” Someone had hit Hension again. Casey, his face turned away, had to smile. Apparently the pretty boy got hit a lot. “Um. This takes 20 minutes,” Casey said. Suddenly he didn’t care what they thought. He was going to stretch. He started torso turns, his hands behind his head. Moster spoke. “Casey, we don’t have all day.” Casey turned back to him and repeated himself firmly. “This takes 20 minutes. I stretch for 20 minutes. If you don’t want to watch, don’t.” And he turned back, cupping his big hands together, continuing his torso turns. Moster smiled slightly. Good. The White Caps had obviously kicked in after all. It seems Casey required more White Caps for an effect, and the societal restrictions weren’t so easily abandoned. But the boy was asserting himself, and quite naturally. Zaftig was suddenly next to Moster. “He’s not so easily bullied,” he whispered. “Not like your other men. You won’t have your way with him so easily.” “You don’t think so?” “No, I don’t.” “Well, we’ll see, then, won’t we?” Zaftig frowned. Clearly, Moster wasn’t concerned about Casey digging in his heels at his first workout, doing it his way, defying the Sergeant. “What do you know?” Zaftig hissed at Moster. Moster, never taking his eyes off the teen muscle giant now doing rapid pushups, turned to Zaftig, laid his cards on the table. “The kid has never been worshipped before. He wants it, he needs it. He needs someone to tell him how amazing he is. And he needs musclesex. Badly. He doesn’t know how much.” “I see. It’s your musclesex thing again. Goddammit, Sergeant. This project is about youth and strength and creating the most fearsome army the planet has ever seen. It’s not about sex. It never was. It was about creating the perfect physical specimen. The most extraordinary physiques the world has ever known.” Moster smiled sardonically. “You’ve forgotten, Dr. Zaftig, or perhaps you never knew. Even when you were a young man. Were you ever young?” Zaftig smiled. “Amazing to consider, isn’t it?” Moster continued. “Everything for men is about sex. And bodybuilders? Even more so. And for these bodybuilders? All that times about 200. 500. All these guys want is to be admired. Worshipped. Sucked off. Felt up. Fuck. And, I might add, get fucked. Train, lift, eat, sleep, shit, fight, suck, get sucked, fuck, train some more, fight some more, fuck some more, suck some more, eat, shit, sleep. And,” he added sweetly, “…that’s about it.” “Fuck you, Sergeant.” But now Zaftig was smiling. He knew there was more to it. Wasn’t there? Moster sighed. “I’m sorry, Dr. Zaftig. But that’s what you’ve created here. Millions of dollars poured into fucking machines. But look at the bright side.” He leaned in. “It’s going to make you millions, as well. All of us.” “I already have millions. I don’t care.” “Well, I don’t, and I do.” “By the way, how did the boy get that black eye?” “Looks pretty hot, don’t it?” “Less than 24 hours in the compound and already someone’s slugged him.” “Don’t look too closely at Abdul or Blankenship.” Zaftig glanced over at Abdul, sporting a shiner of his own, and noted the missing teeth of the blond bomber beauty Blankenship. Zaftig groaned inwardly. Another trip to the dentist. He hated having to take the men off the mountain. But there was a dentist in San Jose who fixed up the men regularly, regular hygiene, capping, replaced teeth, crowns, implants, the works, and charged nothing, content merely with big biceps flexed in his face while he sat in the chair playing with his tiny dentist dick. Then, Moster to Casey, “You about done there, boy?” “No, sir.” “All right, then.” The men were getting restless, shifting from foot to foot, now staring at Zaftig and the ever-cool Moster. Alvarez was the only man on the squad who seemed calm and in control of himself. A fact not unnoticed by Moster. Or Casey, for that matter, now secretly watching all this play out for himself. He was beginning to catch on that there was even more to these big dudes than just training, taking this crazy drug, and spanking their monkeys. “Men, time for some biceps curls,” Moster announced. “All of you go do 15 sets of light reps. 25 reps per set per arm. No ball busting, now. Get to it. No more than 25 pounds. I mean it.” He turned back and smiled at Casey. “We’ll wait until The Boy is ready.” Okay, so he was The Boy again. Zaftig wasn’t done. “In a few months the Joint Chiefs will be here for review. I want Casey ready and I want the men at their sharpest, and no funny business. Intensify their training.” He turned away. “You leaving?” Zaftig turned back. “Hell, no” he smiled. “I want to see my latest boy wipe your men all over the floor. Maybe you’ll listen to me then.” Moster nodded. Inwardly he had to admit he respected Zaftig deeply. The man may have been a puny genius with no body, but he wasn’t dishonest, and he was clearly unafraid of Moster. He had no personal need for muscle worship, and never bothered the men. He was, at the end of the day, a partner Moster could trust, if never take advantage of. He admired that. Moreover, Zaftig had never indicated another other than scientific curiosity about Moster’s treetrunk tool. That was a plus on his side, too. Moster turned to Casey and called out. “Okay, you’re done,” he said, brooking no denial. “What’s your starting weight for inclines?” “Um…..180?” Hension, 20 feet away and now doing the ordered biceps curls, stared at Casey. “Damn!” he squeaked. He put the dumbbell down and scratched his barely covered balls. “180?? To start?” Casey looked away, trying not to notice. That boy certainly was pretty. A perfect face. Without realizing it, Casey licked his lips, staring a little at Hension, who, gawking at the muscle monster, inadvertently smiled back, absently scratching his balls. The exchange did not go unnoticed. Lang nudged Alvarez, who nodded sagely. “180 it is. Let’s see what you got.” Moster strode to the bench, grabbed two 180-pound dumbbells as if they were sacks of feathers, and handed them to Casey. Casey took them without a blink, two sacks of feathers. And so the workout began. One by one, the men re-racked their light weights, approached the bench where the giant Casey lay, ready to lift. Casey’s perfect technique was evident from the start. He smoothly lowered his huge bulk onto an incline bench. He raised his arms into position, the two dumbbells easily held aloft overhead. In no time he reeled off twenty reps of perfectly calibrated incline flyes, then peeling off into overhead presses, gently touching the dumbbells one another, then down to the tips of his big brown nipples, outlined in his oversized sweats. His chest bloomed, rivers of sweaty muscle flowed, the pumped pecs seemed to reach to the ceiling as he pumped. “Pow, pow, pow, pow,” he breathed to himself with each rep. Light stains of pec milk appeared on his sweats. “Wow….” breathed Hension. “Do you see that??” “What’s next?” “Do it again.” “Okay.” He reeled off another set. The men watched him stonily, now all gathered around the bench. More pec milk appeared. “Now?” “Do another.” “Sure.” He did another set. Finishing, he clanged the weights to the floor. “Can I work with something heavy now?” Moster smiled. The White Caps had taken effect. He shot a look over at Zaftig, who merely raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Certainly, boy. Take it to 220.” So he was still Boy. “Anyone have gloves?” “Sure, Case!” Lang reached into his bag and tossed a pair to Casey. Casey smiled a little, hearing Lang call him by the same nickname the cadets down the mountain did. “Thanks.” He caught the gloves and slipped them on. Everyone was watching now. The red light of the video cam continued to blink. Standing next to Lang, Alvarez was blank-faced, but not unapproving. In the corner, Dr. Zaftig now had his head tilted back, musing. This boy will go the limit, he thought. No matter what Moster says about what the men really want. This boy is different. He’s pure muscle, and nothing else. No, that was not right. He was muscle, cock, and butt. This boy would be worth millions. And very, very soon. An uncommon sex machine of the first power. Innocent Casey, unaware of the plans being made around him, rose, took the two 180 pound dumbbells, and re-racked them, two sacks of feathers back to the their featherbed. He strode down the line and grabbed two 220s, returned to the incline, lowered his bulk, and reeled off another set of 20 reps, grunting loudly and blowing out air with each rep. More milk flecks appeared on his shirt. He blew sweat and spit, began to groan mightily. “ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh….” When he was finished he set the dumbbells down gently on the marley floor, and looked up at Moster. Absently he wiped the milk away from his nipples with thumb and forefinger. “Nicely done, boy,” said Moster. He spoke loudly to the group. “Notice that Casey does not drop the weights.” He looked pointedly at Jin, who was famous for throwing the weights to the floor after the punishing final set of any lift he did, excepting squats – where he re-racked as noisily as possible, all while screaming. Jin looked back, defiant. “Why do you do it that way, boy?” Casey shrugged. “Way that Miles taught me, I guess. It’s harder.” “Miles?” “Miles Donovan, Raw Weight Gym.” So that was it, thought Gunst. Miles Donovan. He should have known. Donovan was a biceps freak, and hosted many others in his gym, taking their pay-offs for private posing from men who liked to blast big guns in the faces of the hapless, endlessly paying schmoes. No doubt Casey had been a major revenue stream for the notorious Donovan gym, he reasoned to himself. Of course he had to have huge guns. Miles would have seen to it. Blankenship grinned, a front tooth missing and looking all the hotter for it. “Yeah, makes sense, he came from that old horn dog Donovan’s gym. You worked out on the 3rd floor yet?” Casey looked at Blankenship a little blankly. “Um. No.” Obatu spoke up. “Casey is still too young and green for the 3rd floor. Besides, he has been training at the cadet gym down the mountain for the last several months. Haven’t you, Casey?” “Yeah, I guess. What’s next?” “You flat bench?” “Sure. How much weight?” “Let’s see what you can do.” The squad backed away a little as Casey, gripping each elbow and stretching his arms over his head, walked towards a row of flat benches. Gunst despaired a little. He was wrong. Casey wasn’t posing and being paid for it at Donovan’s. Which meant he’d built those mountainous biceps on his own. “Lose the shirt!” squawked Hension. “I want to see your nips milk!” “’Kay,” said Casey. He stopped, slipping out of his sweatshirt, folding it up carefully. Underneath he wore a baggy green t-shirt, which may probably have been at one time a pup tent. “My nipples always make a little milk when I train,” he explained. “See?” He reached under his soaked t-shirt to a nipple, gathered some white liquid, held out a finger dripping with milk droplets. “But it looks like I’m making a little more today.” In spite of himself, Moster was touched by Casey’s innocent neatness with his sweatshirt. And his explanation. “T-shirt too,” said Waring. “Not yet,” said Casey. Moster’s eyebrow raised a little. He glanced over at Zaftig, who nodded. Good. Good. It was all good. The White Caps were claiming his ego. Casey was showing signs he could stand up on his own. “Load up a starting weight of 360 pounds,” directed Moster. “You can handle 300, can’t you, Casey?” “Sure, easy.” Casey laid his bulk down on the flat bench while Waring and Lang placed eight 45-pound plates on either end of the bar. He began to suck in air in preparation. “Hey, can someone wrap my elbows?” he suddenly asked. “Sure. Washington, grab some heavy wraps for Cadet Rockland. Get to it. The man has to lift.” He lifted the bar off the bench and began to bench, pumping his enormous pecs. Now he was working his hardest. He was now more determined than ever to fit in with these huge men. He was going to show them now. The workout continued. Flat bench, declines, more flyes. All pecs stuff. More milk. Throughout the workout Hension, Lang, Jin, Bogarde, Washington, Meyer, Waring, Duncan, Chad, and Corporal Blankenship were cheerful and approving. They howled their encouragement and counted the reps. “10! 11! 12! 13! 14! 15!" Throw the weights, Casey!” "Okay to throw them?" Casey asked Moster, holding 600 pounds aloft, just about to bring it down to his milky nipples. He was calm. "If the men want. This time. Throw it when you're done." "Okay." He finished pumping, and instead of reracking... Clang! Casey threw the weight on the floor, sat up, grabbed the plastic bottle and chugged a half-gallon of water. Water poured from the side of his mouth onto his shirt. The men whooped and hollered. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and strode forcefully to the next weight. Immediately the men were counting again. “10! 11! 12! 13! 14! 15!” Clang! Wipe. “YEAHHHH….!” And on it went for 45 minutes of grueling, punishing lifting. Corporals Schumacher, Obatu, LeFevre, and Alvarez and Private McIntyre seemed more reserved. Corporal Abdul just grunted. But he was impressed, in spite of himself. The boy was training harder than he had ever seen. His muscles were blooming, seeming to grow as he watched. Gunst was quiet and watchful. Zaftig was beaming with professional pride. Moster remained aloof and keenly observant. And all the while, Dr. Irving followed every move with the video cam. The cocksure little Private Joe Tiffany cheered him on just as loudly. Casey pretended not to see the evil glint in the muscleboy’s eyes, but he couldn’t help it. He’d learned at the Home how to read signals. The Home…..hmmm. A memory appeared dimly, and, just as quickly, was gone. While resting between two punishing sets, Casey was still silently agog at the size of Moster’s muscles. Occasionally he found himself staring at the improbably large mound resting atop his CO’s left quad. The tip of the mound reached to just above the giant’s knee. He noted the other men seemed to be avoiding looking directly at Moster’s leg. Even though they all seemed to be sporting packages of similar size. Damn, their dicks are big, Casey thought. Are they real? And deep inside Casey, a little voice proudly squeaked…..”Wait until they see MINE…” Then he remembered – …..oh yeah.... They’d already seen it. And he had seen theirs, too. Sorta. Between his half-closed black eye. His hand went up, and he rubbed the black eye. Looked at Abdul, and his black eye. Adbul was smiling a little now. Not friendly, but hard - but still, a smile. Casey grinned wearily as he finally finished up with the last set of triceps pulldowns. Private Meyer, a big toothy grinning lighting up his handsome, beaming face, burst forward from the group, and pumped the newcomer’s hand. “Thanks,” said Casey. Meyer nodded enthusiastically. “He can’t hear you,” said Private Waring. Casey looked at Meyer, stricken for having forgotten that Meyer was a deaf mute. “It’s okay, he doesn’t mind.” Casey, touched, shook Meyer’s hand vigorously. Meyer shook his head cheerfully, touching his lips, and shrugged his shoulders to show that indeed he didn’t care that he couldn’t speak. Then he stepped back and proudly flexed his own powerful, round right biceps, smacking them with his left hand, and reached down to grab Casey’s wrists. He pulled his arms up encouragingly and Casey, getting the message, proudly brought his huge guns up and flexed mightily. “Mother fucker!” yelled Lang and Hension simultaneously. The men roared with laughter, and Casey colored a deep red, smiling sheepishly. Alvarez clamped that affectionate paw of his around Lang’s shoulders and hugged him close. But he looked worried. Something was on his mind. Behind them Hension eyed them both steadily, with longing. Meyer kept his hands on Casey’s obliques as if he was rotating his upper body for all to see. “It’s okay, plebe,” said Jin, laughing. “You’ll get to know us all.” While all through the devastating workout he had been stronger than he could ever remember, now he felt – well, almost frail – as if something, suddenly, was missing. “All right, men,” said Moster calmly. “Rec room in 15 minutes. Casey, shower up.” “Yes, sir.” “Men, file out. Casey, come here a moment first.” He glanced at the men, who leaned in, curious as to what Moster might be saying. “Well, Cadet Casey, it looks as if you’ve made it.” Moster spoke quietly. Casey looked up at him, and grinned wearily. “Thanks, Sergeant Moster.” The men gave him a round of applause, Casey noted that even Corporal Schumacher seemed to approve. He lowered his head, modestly grateful. Then Moster turned back to the group. They were still applauding. Casey was embarrassed, turning to go. He didn’t see Moster’s stone face shift into a slight smile. “Men, get dressed. Shower up. No play time. Get to it. I expect you all in uniform, neat and clean, in the rec room, in 10 minutes. Hop to it. Get a move on.” Then, to Casey, “Casey, use my private locker room to shower.” He pointed to a door across the floor. “You’ll find clean sweats in there. They’ll fit. Grab them after you shower. And no jerking off, boy.” Casey, embarrassed that Moster seemed to be reading his mind, nodded dumbly and headed to the door. He was worried again. He had only masturbated once today so far, and on a day like today, he needed a lot more….especially after that worship session with the cadets this morning. He was discovering….something….and his huge cock wanted to know more. But he went, dutifully, into the private locker room, showered, and changed into the clean sweats he found there. Before he left, he checked his guns and his pecs in the full length mirror. Flexing, he breathed to himself. “Damn. I’m fucking awesome.” And with the capsules still not in apparent full-force effect, dressed in baggy trunks and a clean, white light tee, he stumbled his way to the rec room. For what, he couldn’t tell. Probably more weirdness. But now, he was ready. Dr. Irving was there ahead of them all. He had set up chairs for all the bodybuilders in a semi-circle, with the inevitable video cam set up. There was a chair in the center, obviously meant for him. He glanced over at Moster, who nodded and gestured towards the chair. Casey waddled with his bodybuilder’s walk towards it slowly and sat. He looked around with anticipation. “So now what?” he asked. Zaftig took Moster aside. “This boy is gentle. We don’t want to break his spirit. He’s had a tough time and he just wants to make friends. Go easy on him.” Moster’s shoulders stiffened. The veins in his neck popped a little. He looked Zaftig dead in the eye, and said, “Being sweet to him now will kill him later. Is that what you want?” “No.” “Then let me handle it. I know what is best.” “Did you at least give him a capsule?” “Sure,” answered Moster. “He’ll be just fine.” “Doesn’t seem to have taken effect yet.” “He’s a big boy. Blood volume and all. It takes time.” “Fuck you, Moster.” Moster’s eyebrows raised slightly, but he knew not to protest. Zaftig was properly proud of his discovery. “You know fucking well that White Caps P-21 take effect immediately regardless of ‘blood volume’, if you want to put it that way.” “Dr. Zaftig, it’s my turn now.” “It’s always your turn.” Zaftig turned on his heel and left the rec room without further comment. Moster watched him go. The men were sitting impatiently. “All right, men. Let’s get to it.” He turned to Casey. “All right, Casey. Welcome. You’re one of the group now. We’re now….The Twenty.” “Yeah, baby!” “Bout fucking time.” “Tell him what that really means….” said Alvarez. “Spank him!” yelled Hension, and then, before Chad, sitting next to him, could swat him, he said, “Don’t you fucking hit me!” Chad did anyway. “Ow!” yelled Hension. Casey chuckled. “That’s gotta hurt. These dudes seem to hit you a lot.” “You will too, in time,” said Waring. “What did …he….”….um…” “Alvarez,” said Alvarez. “What did Alvarez – sorry – mean – when he said “tell him what that really means?” Silence. Casey continued. “I mean, what does it mean to be one of The Twenty?” Moster smiled. “Yes, let’s talk about that, Casey. Men, why don’t we show Casey what it’s all about?” Then he paused a moment. Casey wasn't reacting. He was just sitting quietly, albeit with great body tension. His muscles were hugely pumped, and Moster could see the fabric shifting as Casey's enormous cock began to uncoil in his sweats. Soon he would be hard. But the boy wasn't moving. Odd. Quietly, he asked, leaning in, “Casey, level with me.” He looked the teen in the eye. Casey couldn’t look away. Inwardly he was stammering. He was looking at Moster's crotch. “No, look me in the eye. Look up. Not down there. Up. How many White Caps have you taken?” “White Caps?” “The capsules. The pills. How many?” He gazed at him levelly. A pause. “Four, I think. Five?” He shrugged, weakly. "i don't remember." "Where did you get them? I gave you one...." "Uh..." Casey didn't want to indict the men on his first day. Weirdness notwithstanding. “Never mind. I can guess." Moster looked back at the group, all standing still, attentive, neatly dressed in their uniforms. And every cock seeming at attention, poling out hugely in their khakis. The men were ready to play. Past ready. Mmmmm. Not much effect on Casey, though, for 5 White Caps. A few moments of assertiveness and a powerful workout, but…..not much. "Are you feeling anything…unusual?” “Well….” Casey paused and looked away. He found himself staring at the men and their looming erections. Jesus. Here it came. Strong societal blockers, Moster thought. "Do you want to have sex? Like now?" No answer. Casey just stared at the cocks in the room. The men were deadly quiet. Then it hit Moster. Of course. “Casey, are you hypoglycemic?” Not so much to his surprise, even the dimwitted Casey knew exactly what that meant. Still staring the the men's rocket crotches, he spoke softly. “......I need oranges or candy bars sometimes.....” “They told you this when you were growing up?” “They told me in the Boys Home. My blood sugar. I have problems.” Of course. That was it. It happened sometimes. He reminded himself he had to mention it to Zaftig. It was the same for Obatu when he first checked in, and then, years later, for Eli Meyer. Since Meyer could neither speak nor hear and his sign language didn't encompass the subject of hypoglycemia, it took them a few days to realize that a cup of chocolate milk worked wonders on the tight glutes of the hot little muscle fuckee Meyer. Give the boy some cocoa and he'd take massive tool after tool up his butt for hours. He called over his shoulder. “Dr. Irving, please step into my office and get an orange. You’ll find a bowl of fruit on my conference table.” He turned back to Casey and smiled a little. “It’ll be just a moment. Then we’ll tell you what The Twenty is all about.” Irving left the room, used to being invisible except when ordered about. Moster stood up, in front of Casey. "It will only be a minute now." The men, behind him, were now pawing the floor like racehorses, ready to rock and roll. Casey, sitting, was now eye-to-crotch to Moster, in front of him. He stared openly at Moster’s enormous bulge in the fly of his uniform khakis, a thick pylon of sheathed cock snaking heavily along the edge of huge quad muscle, and gulped, looking up. Though Moster was the only man in the room without an erection, his penis yet appeared to be the biggest. “Yes, sir,” he stammered. And stared again. His heart was pounding. Moster put a hand on Casey’s beefy shoulder, kneading his fingers slightly into the thick muscle. “Hang on. It won’t be long now.” He turned to the men behind him. “Men? Drop trou.” Zippers unzipped, belts slipped out of belt loops and went to the floor, as the 18 bodybuilders – even Abdul – dropped their uniform slacks to their ankles. Pants down. Around the room. Now all the men were in micro posers. Those massive bulges were unleashed. Looming, heavy, hard, all already pointing straight out. Their cocks almost fully exposed except for the bulging, straining fabric barely covering cockheads. Some of the posers were ready to snap. Casey stared at them all. "Wow...." he breathed. "Men why don't you do some posing for Casey? You've seen his muscles. I don't think he's had the opportunity to see yours." "You, too, Sergeant," said Abdul. Moster looked at him. He paused. "All right, then." He unbuttoned his bulging dress shirt and slipped it off. Casey could almost imagine he could hear the groan of relief of the fabric, suddenly relieved of the need to stretch over the man's massive muscles. But he wasn't prepared for the massive musculature of Moster. Cocks and balls bulged forth, each man spilling half a foot of visible cock into barely sheathed pouches. Casey felt a dribble of precum shooting in his posers. “Arms behind backs!” barked Moster, clearly now the leader of the group. He turned to Casey and became one with his men. The Nineteen placed their hands behind their lower backs. “Spread legs!” All spread their legs wide, shooting their right legs out in choreographed unison. “Prepare!” Fists clenched, crammed in solid obliques. “Front double biceps!” All arms slowly rose. And 40 cannonballs of enormous power ball biceps snapped into ungodly peaks. The men faced straight ahead, all eyes high and level, as if gazing into infinity. “Jesus,” breathed Casey. He fumbled with his crotch a moment. His head was spinning. The lineup of 19 men stood before him, all flexing with massive front double biceps power. The black muscle god brought his arms down strode slowly across the room back to Casey. As he moved, his half-covered organ swayed heavily from side to side in his posing pouch. Behind him, the lineup of men continued to flex without wavering. He stood next to Casey, and impossibly, appeared to tower over even him. Dr. Irving returned with the orange. “Chow down on this, Casey,” said Moster as Irving handed it to him wordlessly. "Men, drop the biceps pose." The men relaxed. Hension snickered. "Yeah, chow down, Casey." Then, warning Chad...."Don't you hit me...." “Dr. Irving, would you get back to your camera, please?” Dr. Irving went back to the video cam, checking his clipboard, and began to tape. The men circled around Casey as he took a big bite out of the orange, and then another, and then another. A moment passed. Casey began to flush, a deep crimson red – and then, just as quickly – the flush faded. He looked up at Moster, and smiled. Broadly. “I’m fine now,” he said. “Casey,” asked Moster evenly, “have you ever sucked cock before?” “No, sir.” “Would you like to?” “Yes, sir. I think I would.” Snap! Snap! Gunst's and Blankenship's posers snapped. Their cocks bloomed free, swaying heavily, ready for service. Gunst stepped forward, but Blankenship elbowed him heavily out of the way. Gunst looked at him threateningly, raised his fist, ready to punch face. Moster stood back. "Easy, men. There's time for everyone. Who should he start with?” he asked the group. “I think he starts with ME,” said Abdul, striding forward, his hands on the straps of his bulging posers. The 14 inch shaft was fully exposed, the tendrils of Abdul's thick pubic hair shining in the rec room light. “Fine with me,” Casey said, still smiling. “How do I do this?” “Don’t worry. It’ll come naturally. Just let it happen.” Abdul took his position in front of Casey and pushed out his powerful hips. As Casey leaned in, Abdul roughly cupped the back of the teen’s head, and pulled him in close. "Get to work, boy..." Casey open his mouth. Wide. "Sorry about last night, " he said up to Abdul, who loomed over him, taking his mammoth cock out of his posers and aiming it. "Wider," said Abdul. "Can I pose for you guys later?" Casey asked. "Sure thing!" squeaked Hension. Smack!! "Ow! What did I say??" "I said OPEN WIDER," commanded Abdul. "Sure thing," said Casey. He opened his mouth wider. "Let's go." And so.... it began. **** Want to read "The Twenty" from the start? Click HERE for Chapter One! Links to other chapters... "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster
  21. Links to other chapters: Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 Chapter 21: Sam and Casey February 10th, 2022 2035 Hours Right after the presentation, Moster briefly convened the men in the corridor around the corner from the lab. “Okay, what just happened?” asked Alvarez. “Didn’t you see? The Army creamed in their pants at the sight of us,” answered Chad. Hension, as always, stood by, pensively flexing his muscles and dreaming. Chad clapped him on the back of the head. “Ow! What’d I do?” “Pay attention.” “Head back to your quarters, men. Await further instruction. Visitation tonight strictly prohibited.” Moster was specific. He’d turned his broad back and strode away, but all saw as he turned he was grinning. “Strictly prohibited?” asked Alvarez. Moster glanced back at them briefly. “Just keep the volume down.” And he was gone down the corridor towards his suite. “My room, 10 minutes,” Alvarez said to Lang. “Yeah, baby!” They were gone. Hension looked after them, and followed a moment later. Casey was thinking of Sam. He could think of nothing else – the way the handsome young ensign had stared at him. He’d caught his name on the way out. Sam. Sam Victor. Schumacher glanced briefly at Tiffany, who was, as usual, smiling and opaque. “I’m gonna go train,” grumbled Washington. “Me, too,” said LeFevre. Tiffany walked away without a word. Schumacher watched his butt as he went, and turned and walked back to his room, seething as usual. “I’ll join you,” said Waring, looking after Schumacher. “Me, too,” said Jin. “Wait for us,” said Reed. “You in?” he asked Blankenship. “Sure.” He clamped his hand around the back of Eli Meyer’s head and gestured, train? Eli shook his head no, mimed he was going to go to bed and jerk off. Blankenship laughed. “Maybe I’ll join you instead.” Meyer nodded and off they went together, Reed following. “Not gonna train?” Washington called after him. “Changed my mind.” He threw his arms around Meyer and Reed and walked away with them. “Showers after?” asked Obatu. “Whaddya you think?” asked Blankenship. “Wait for me,” said Chad. He turned to Bogarde, who was headed to his room. “Not you?” “Yeah, I’m coming. Wanna get my nipple clamps first.” “Gonna work pecs?” “Yeah.” “I’ll bind your tit clamps if you spot my curls,” said Gunst. “Tonight I’m gonna blast these big guns to the limit.” Abdul said nothing. He went on his way alone, looking for Pedro. His dick was twitching. Casey ran back to his room and quickly brushed his teeth and combed his hair. He reeled off 300 pushups, which took him less than 3 minutes. Then he ran out the door in search of Sam. After a moment he came back, climbed up on a steel chair he kept in the corner, reached high, and carefully adjusted one of the lights on his posing dais. Nice and easy. "That's better," he said to himself. Then he went out again, in search of Sam. October 21st, 2021 1843 Hours The men gathered around Casey, now kneeling on the hard concrete floor before Abdul, who stood before him, cock out, ready to plunge in. Unexpectedly, before he started, Casey spoke. “Tell them to pull up their pants. I want to see their dick outlines in their pants.” A pause. “Pull ‘em up, gentlemen,” commanded Moster. “And when I say so – and not before – they can pull them down again. At my command. Or I stop this.” The White Caps seemed to be working. Moster suppressed a smile as the men in line looked at one another, bent, pulled up their jeans, and fastened them – with some difficulty, as each man was now sporting 10 – 15 inches of wood. The bulges were….dizzying. Casey leaned in closer to Abdul, the Arab’s 15 inch cock now bobbing two inches from his face. “Yeah,” he said. “I like that. I like the view. They can flex, too. Tell them to flex.” “Gentlemen, front double biceps, please.” “Yours too, Sergeant Moster.” Moster raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. Biceps slowly rose, like the rising of 36 suns over distant mountains, hitting the ceiling, filling the room with flexed muscle. “Dr. Lang?” The video cam whirred to life. “Okay. Here goes.” And Casey opened his mouth, and for the first time in his life, took a male organ inside. Abdul, above him, spread his legs wide, and began slowly pumping his hips into Casey’s face. February 10th, 2022 2050 Hours At the same time that Alvarez and Lang were just getting under way with Pose and Approve, Casey was standing in front of Sam in the corridor outside the men’s room. Even now, months after he first arrived in the main building, Casey had gotten lost four times. He worried that Sam may have left the building. And that he’d lost his opportunity. But no, for there he suddenly was 40 feet down the main corridor, coming out of the men’s room. His heart filled with joy as he ran up to him. Sam stopped short, surprised. The 6’-7”, 330 pound bodybuilder muscle giant Casey Rockland was suddenly just there, standing shyly before him, legs spread awkwardly wide, his hands held meekly at his side. He was breathing deeply as if he had just been running. “Hi!” he said, a little desperate sounding. “Well, hello,” answered Sam. Casey was still wearing the white VALHALLA LABS t-shirt he’d worn before he stripped down for the presentation to the brass, bulging with barely sheathed muscle, the gigantic arms pouring out of straining sleeves, the tight white jeans, bursting at the quads and calves, and the black army boots. A light coat of sweat gleamed in the corridor light. Sam tried to meet his eyes at first, but in spite of all his control his vision wandered as he began to take in the staggering proportions of the handsome young behemoth standing before him. The dude was perfect. Fucking perfect. Casey radiated golden-tanned muscle, his taut skin gleaming a natural sheen of rich, deep brown-gold. The sleeves of his t-shirt strained to half-cover the bulging, hard, veiny, cannonball masses of his unreal, sick biceps. His firm round pecs were held hugely high, and Sam could easily make out the shape and slight coloring of the man’s large red-brown nipples. His square jaw was alluring, with a movie star’s cleft chin and a day-old scruff. His eyes shone a deep violet blue. The crew cut was of thick burnished gold. The hands? Each the size of both of his, held together. Below, the outline of an 8-pack of deep, firmly ridged abs pounded through the t-shirt, hillocks of muscle deeply sloping to ridges of darkest ab lines, all tapering to an improbable – no, unbelievable – 30 inch waistline. The boy’s broad lats spread horizontally behind, like eagle wings, the traps above the pecs boulders of pure power, his deltoids powerful triple-headed mountains of strength. And then Sam’s gaze went a little lower – and held there. O My God. There it was again. And now only five feet away. “I was afraid you’d left.” “No, I’m still here.” “Yeah! Um. I see….good!” The fly of Casey’s white jeans wasn’t merely bulging. It loomed with the weight of the heavy member firmly curled, tucked away and packed inside. It was if he was carrying a long, thick, heavy snake in his pants. A boa constrictor. No less than that. Clearly, the boa was currently at rest. The barely-restraining fly was fully revealed by the fly flaps, forced back by the tautness of the fabric. The zipper appeared to be industrial grade. No doubt made of some sort of reinforced steel. Sam stared openly at the ungodly bulge. Then he heard a voice, and he shifted his eyes back up. “So…you’re…you’re Ensign Victor. Is that your name? And, um, your rank?” Casey was fumbling to think of something, anything to say. He stumbled forward, hand extended to shake. “Does that mean you’re in the Navy?” So Casey wasn’t the brightest bulb in the billboard, was he? All the better. “Call me Sam.” He smiled, offering his hand and Casey shook it with firm eagerness. He nearly crushed Sam’s fingers in his vice-like grip, but Sam never blinked. He smiled sweetly. “Nice to meet you,” Sam said. Casey glowed. Sam turned slowly, smiling, and resumed his walk toward the main hall. Casey trotted up alongside. “Where you going?” “I’m under orders to find about more about you men.” “I can tell you more!” “All right, then. Shall we talk? Before I meet with the others?” “Yeah! I mean, you don’t have to talk to them. I’ll tell you everything you wanna know!” “Everything…?” “Welll…..” Casey looked around. “Enough.” “Fine, then. Where shall we go?” “My quarters! How about my…quarters…? Okay?....” “Lead the way.” October 21st, 2021 1845 Hours In the first moments, Casey didn’t think he’d much like sucking Abdul’s cock. The huge Moroccan pushed his hard cock into his mouth without any ceremony. As new to this as Casey was, shouldn’t there be something like…he didn’t know, maybe some foreplay? He knew Abdul was not about to kiss him or anything – geez – but still, as his enormous penis came, hard as iron, enshrouded with thick veins, like a freight train, slow and big and hard and powerful and unyielding, the corona and the shaft pushing resolutely past his lips and teeth and deeply into his mouth and down his throat, Casey wondered, just a nanosecond, ‘Shouldn’t there be a little – something more?’ But, no. Guess not. For there it was, huge and throbbing and hot, crammed down his throat, deep and firm, in one thrust. And no nothing else. Just cock. Not even any flexing. No challenge, no demand to feel his muscles. It was just cock. Big and hard and throbbing and hot and unyielding. At first, Casey was stunned. His eyes went wide and he looked up, his mouth full of cock, even fuller than he’d ever imagined, his lips enveloping the thick shaft of a man’s penis for the first time in his life. Okay, so he had to get used to this. He was beginning to realize they did a lot of this here at the top of the mountain. And he did want bigger muscles, so….. So. It didn’t take him long. February 10th, 2022 2055 Hours Casey practically skipped ahead down the corridor, talking excitedly to San over his shoulder as he went. “I heard about you. The men…the other guys…..you know, in the lab…. They said you were coming tonight. I wanted to meet you before they did.” “Who said I was coming? Who knows me here?” Sam asked calmly. “Oh. Oh, they all do. All of them. They’ve talked about you. Um.” He stepped ahead of Sam and gestured hopefully down the corridor. “I was hoping to …. um….talk to you first. So you want to know more about us?” Sam stopped, turned, and smiled serenely with plain honesty. So the others talked about him. How did they know him? Still, the thought pleased him. “Yes. But principally, I want to know more about you. Personally. And we’d all want to hear more about the project. We’d like to learn more about all of you. Who you all are, where you’re all from.” Sam paused. “But I’d like to hear a little more about you in particular.” Casey’s eyes grew wide with joy. “I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Sam continued breezily, “if I might. You sure you have the time for me?” “YEAH!” Casey said, almost shouting, and then glanced around in quick alert spasms to ensure no one had heard him. Tiffany could appear at any point and stop the fun. Of late, Tiffany had been stalking him….and Casey didn’t like it. Not to play, but to keep Casey under personal wraps. “I mean, yes, sure, I have time,” Casey said again, more quietly. “Let’s go.” “It’s late. Sure you don’t mind?” “Naw. Tomorrow’s a rest day anyway. We trained hard tonight. Got all pumped up for you guys.” He paused, and then added. “I’m really pumped up.” “Are you?” “Yeah! REALLY pumped. Very big. Um…” He was getting ahead of himself. He stopped, shyly, confused, and then continued. “Down here. I think. Yeah, I’m right. I get lost sometimes. This way.” He walked ahead fast, heading down the corridor, looking either way, watching for spies. “Down here.” Sam picked it up and hustled a little behind. He was in complete control of himself. His eyes were half-lidded and studiedly casual. He watched the muscleboy’s dancing butt as he ran ahead of him down the corridor. He sure is happy about something, Sam thought. I'm gonna pose for this dude for hours," Casey was thinking happily. October 21st, 2021 1846 Hours Casey closed his mouth around the hugeness of Abdul’s cock with an eagerness that surprised him. His lips held firm. Hey, it wasn’t so bad. In fact, it felt right. In fact, it felt great. He glanced up, and then bent his head down and went to work. He started to suck. Lotta veins here. Nice. He pulled back, managed to get his tongue out to wet his lips. In a moment his mouth was wet and milky with thick gobs of spit. He leaned in an resumed. Wow, this was cocksucking? He really liked it. Abdul began to pump his face, first slowly, then fiercely. His big penis started to glide powerfully, in and out of Casey’s mouth. “Mmmmm,” Casey moaned. “Uh hunh,” Abdul moaned. “Fucking your mouth, boy.” The men stepped closer. “Wow,” breathed Hension, and this time, no one smacked him. So, all in all, and pretty fast, it got fun. February 10th, 2022 2056 Hours Sam could hear some moans and groans drifting from various rooms. “What’s going on?” he asked Casey. “Oh, they’re probably all fucking and sucking dick by now." Casey had stopped in front of a door. "Here’s my room. These are my quarters. You wanna come in?” He unlocked it, opened up and went in. Sam was pleasantly startled. “Yes, of course.” Fucking and sucking dick by now? So much for the claim by Zaftig that the muscle giants didn’t have sex. The truth would seem to be otherwise. He followed the giant in. Casey was waiting on the other side of the door, closing it behind Sam as he entered. “Welcome to my room,” he said. October 21st, 2021 1837 Hours “Breathe through your nose,” instructed Moster. “Yeah, we all have to do it that way or we’d suffocate,” said Lang helpfully. Casey looked up. Abdul nodded. “Do it,” he said gruffly. Casey, on his knees, gazed a little up at Abdul’s black eye. It made him hotter, remembering he was still sporting a nice big shiner himself. “Okay.” He’d never sucked a cock before. But of course his masturbation fantasies had included it since he was 8. His bed sheets at the Home had been stiff and sticky with boy cream produced from midnight fantasies of just such a scene. Him, on his knees, servicing the huge penis of a muscle god. And Abdul’s penis was satisfyingly huge, yes, a full, warm, salty dark log of beef gliding forcefully between Casey’s lips and sluicing powerfully, relentlessly down his throat. It plundered deeper into his larynx than he would have thought possible. Casey would have been startled, if he’d thought of it, at how easily his throat opened up, taking it all, without resistance or gagging, swallowing the hugeness of it. The man’s penis was uncut and slightly cheesy to the taste, and the foreskin proved something interesting to nibble on. It filled his mouth – and Casey had a big mouth – and lay at intervals resting with heavy satisfaction atop his tongue. It grew even larger when inside, too, taking on the warmth and liquid of Casey’s mouth. It expanded and began to throb and play and jump, scraping against his teeth. He couldn’t help but bite, just a little, but Abdul, above him, his eyes closed and his face to the ceiling, didn’t seem to notice, mind, or care. The cockhead should have choked him, or gagged him, or something, but rather immediately, Casey had no problem taking it in, 14 inches of girth capped by a huge mushroom corona. Precum must have been dribbling from the piss slit, because right away Casey could taste cum oozing down his throat, coating his tongue. He knew the taste well. He always ate his own, every time he jerked off, 5 to 6 times a day. Abdul was moaning loudly now and was probably unaware of it. “He any good?” asked Blankenship. “Kid knows how to suck dick,” said Abdul between moans. Casey was licking now, playing with the enormous cockhead with light tongue taps. “Oh, God. This kid is good. Really good. Get ready.” “Look, he don’t even gag,” breathed Lang. The other men nodded sagely. “Pants Stay UP!” Casey suddenly yelled. General groans. All were playing with their tools in their trousers, getting big, hard and ready. Hension was flexing for himself, as usual. Gunst was rubbing his 8 pack, while Jin and Schumacher were unconsciously pawing each other’s packaged schlongs. And Tiffany was there, too. Smiling. Always smiling, his fat big organ poling straight ahead in his pants. Casey guessed he’d have to suck his cock, too, but as beautiful as it was, he wasn’t looking forward to it. He was about 8th down the line. Okay, so that would be later. “No gag reflex on this boy,” said Moster from the back. “That’s a good thing. You can suck cock all night, right, Cadet? And not get tired? And keep breathing? Your jaw hurt?” Casey nodded, then shook his head, confused as how to answer. He pulled back. “I like it, sir” he answered. “My jaw don’t hurt.” “Don’t stop,”said Abdul, his voice now had a note of pleading in it. Wow. Casey smiled. “Okay,” he said, and bent down, his mouth full, going back to the business at hand, his throat crammed, sucking a big cock, as all the bodybuilders in the room watched. The tension in the room added a thick layer of electricity, covering them all. And there in the corner, there was Dr. Irving, as always, shooting video. Casey reached down began to steadily work his own gigantic tool, completely popped out of his baggy sweatpants. “Shit, look at his junk,” muttered Chad. “Big as Moster’s,” said Waring. “Close.” Moster looked up critically. And – he had to admit it. Casey’s cock was indeed close to his own in girth, weight, thickness, and circumference. Hmmmm. February 10th, 2022 2058 Hours Casey’s quarters were an efficiency studio with kitchenette and bathroom. The room was large as befitted a huge muscleboy, but somehow with the lighting and the sofas and the pillows – and the posing dais with all the mirrors, and lighting just so– it was still cozy. It was all concrete, everywhere, true but Casey had tried to enliven it with an LED TV, a computer, some stuffed animals and a few plants. There were dozens of books in a study bookshelf. A small private terrace just beyond double glass sliding doors and dark with night gave a beautiful view of the bright stars above. The terrace walls were high and covered with ivy. No one would be able to see Casey sunbathing naked in the late afternoon sun. Sam could envision him spread out on the extra-durable steel chaise longue, his 12” soft cock languidly lying atop a ripped quad. Sam could see Casey watering his few little plants, desperately trying to keep them alive. A lonely boy’s room. It was sweet and sad. Lonely and alone. No muscleman this beautiful should ever be alone. “Want some coffee? Water? A beer? Juice?” he asked eagerly. Sam wondered if he ever had any visitors at all. Sam nodded. “Sure, that would be great.” Casey headed towards the darkened kitchenette and snapped the light on. Sam’s eyes followed his round, rock-hard tightly jeaned ass swaying as he went with its own inner rhythm. It was like dancing steel. “You have coffee?” Casey nodded, pulled an instant coffee jar from a cabinet, and filled a cup with hot water from the sink. “Yeah. Got it. Milk? Sugar?” “Just black. I see you have beer? I thought caffeine and alcohol were supposed to be bad for you.” “Naw. We can eat and drink anything. It won’t show up.” He stirred the coffee. “Come on in here,” he gestured. “Get it while it’s hot.” It sure as shit is, thought Sam. He came into the kitchenette. “Yeah, we can eat or drink anything. We just train it out. We’re gonna look like this for years. Except maybe we’ll get bigger.” He handed the cup to Sam. “Have a seat,” he offered, and Sam sat down at a small round table in the kitchenette. He looked back at the books in the shelf. “Looks like you work hard.” “I have to. I’m not as smart as the others. I’m pretty dumb, really. I don’t understand half of what’s in them books.” He corrected himself. “Those books. Coffee okay?” Sam sipped, nodded. “Fine.” It tasted terrible. Casey sat down at the little table with Sam. His heavy shoulders and pecs loomed over the table surface. He folded his big hands together and leaned in slightly, shy but – determined – about – what? Sam noticed there were slight tears in the tight sleeves of the t-shirt, still straining to cover the massive biceps. Casey followed Sam’s gaze. “Those guns are pretty impressive,” Sam said. Casey nodded, solemnly, without smiling. “They’re big. Not the biggest in the barracks, but close. They’ve always been big. 26 inches. Moster’s are bigger. Gunst’s too, I think, but I’m getting close to him. I think mine are harder than his, though.” “Impressive.” There was a long pause. “Would it be okay if I flexed for you?” Casey asked shyly. Sam sipped his coffee. “Sure, let’s see what you got.” October 21st, 2021 1843 Hours As he sucked, licked and played with the Arab dick, Casey became intrigued with the latticework of heavy veins that lined Abdul’s lower abs. Hmmm, he thought. Rough. Masculine. Ripped. He thought for a moment of Ramon Ramon, and then Miles Donovan. Maybe he could take a trip back to Raw Weight Gym sometime soon. Suck their dicks, too. In fact, there was also Banks, and Taylor, and the other cadets who wanted to touch and worship him. In fact, there was a whole world of cock waiting for him now. And who was going to say No to a kid as big and muscular and good looking as he was? Casey was, in fact, still discovering his own power. Looking down the line of men waiting, all of them hard and hot, he could see Gunst was next. Looking up, he saw that Abdul was now posing for him, doing a front lat spread, his fists buried in solid obliques. “Yeah, pose for me, big man,” muttered Casey, who continued to suck. “You pose for me, and then I’ll pose for you, and you’ll suck MY dick.” “Fuck you,” said Abdul. “Yeah, and I’ll do that, too,” replied Casey. February 10th, 2022 2058 Hours Casey didn’t need for Sam to prompt him further. He was ready to flex. Joyfully, he stood, towering over Sam. He slowly brought up his right arm, extended it, made a fist, and flexed. “Ka-boom!” he shouted. He flexed it again. “Wham! Bam!” The powerful peaks rose to the ceiling, pumping with sheathed veins. The tear in the shirt sleeve cloth widened a little more, the threads straining to cover the cannonball peak. Then he brought up the left arm, cocked the fist, and flexed it as well. Then he flexed both together, in a massive front double biceps display. “Pow Pow Pow Pow,” he added, whispering now, his gaze never leaving Sam’s face. “Look at my biceps. Check out these huge mother fucking guns.” He was whispering low, his face a foot away from Sam's. Sam gazed. In truth, he had never seen such muscle before. But still he seemed calm. The tendons of Casey’s forearms spasmed as if charged with electricity, and veins seemed to audibly pop as the heads of each biceps peaked. Casey clenched his fists powerfully and grinned, showing teeth. Then he grew shy again. A pause. “What do you think of me?” he asked timidly, still flexing mammoth biceps. “I think you’re fucking unreal.” Casey nodded seriously. “Yeah, I am.” He turned and inspected his flexed arm muscles closely. “26 inches. I have dense muscle fibers,” he reported. “And, um, good bones.” There was silence for a moment. Sam sat still, watching the unwavering young muscleman flexing his biceps. After a minute, Casey looked up, and brought his right arm closer to Sam. “You can touch it,” Casey said eagerly. “Feel how hard it is.” “Okay,” Sam said calmly. He rose to his feet, brought his hand up and touched the enormous biceps head with his fingers. It was impossibly hard and hot. He looked into Casey’s blue eyes, and smiled. Then he clapped the mountainous biceps full with his palm. He stroked, softly and more thoughtfully. In spite of himself his eyes grew wide for a moment. He had never felt any part of any man to be so hard to the touch. It was as if he was stroking hot, smooth iron. Casey looked at Sam a moment, then turned away, lowering his arm. He pulled a 5-gallon aluminum thermos from the refrigerator, unscrewed the top, and drank heavily. Sam watched him. He drank about a gallon, water running down his beautiful scruffy chin, then stopped, and held out the bottle for him. “Distilled water. Want some?” “I’m good.” “Okay.” He drank the another 2 gallons while Sam watched. “Sit down,” said Sam. “Thanks,” said Casey, as if he were the guest. He sat. Both men sat at the table. Casey wiped his mouth. “Hang on a minute,” Casey suddenly said. He reached into the kitchen table drawer and brought out a little vial. He shook out three capsules, grabbed his water bottle and swallowed them down, drinking the last gallon. Sam smiled. “Drugs?” Casey smiled back. “Just some P21.” He paused again. “Wait a minute while I get an orange.” He got up and walked across the room to a bowl of fruit. He grabbed an orange and chowed it down whole, without bothering to peel it. Then he smiled. “Okay, I’m ready,” he said. October 21st, 2021 1845 Hours “Pay attention. Lick it,” Abdul commanded, and Casey licked Abdul’s lengthy shaft from base to tip, as he would an ice cream cone. “Balls,” Abdul added, and Casey leaned in and turned his head up into the man’s perineum, the massive log now lying hard and lazy on his face, extending from jaw to hairline, gobbling at the leathery scrotum sacs that hung and swayed, slapping against Abdul’s iron muscled quads. Lolling the cock around in his mouth, Casey glanced up. The men were gathered around him now. Waiting, their pants still buckled, their flies up, bulging, waiting their turn. Waiting. 17 more cocks, all huge, bobbing, erect, ready to be tasted, probed, learned. His head was reeling now. The P21 was zinging about in his system. It was, after all, an aphrodisiac (although in truth, Casey wouldn’t have known the word). Wow, thought Casey. I like this. I really, really like this. No, 18 cocks. For there he was, in line, at the end, waiting. The monster cock. Sergeant Moster. Moster’s monster. “Moster has a monster….” Casey began to giggle. “Get serious and keep sucking,” commanded Abdul. “Yes, sir,” said Casey. The P21 was still kicking in. Even as Abdul pulled out, shooting thick rivers of white Arab cream, his blasting cum covering Casey’s face, and Blankenship stepped up for his turn, his own monster machine pushing through Casey’s lips, Casey knew he wanted it, too. “AUUUGHHHHNNN GGGHHH!!” cried Abdul, his mammoth pole shooting ropes of semen onto Casey’s face. Casey received the facial calmly. It felt warm and wonderful. He didn’t bother to wipe it off. Cum streamed down his face. Badge of honor. He wanted them all to line up to suck his cock. Now. It was as if Moster was reading his mind. “You’ll have to wait your turn, boy. Before you get your cock sucked in this squad, first you have to suck all of ours.” Casey shrugged. “Okay,” he said, and a moment later, his mouth was full of Blankenship’s ploughing, plundering machine. And on either side of him, Chad and LeFevre were now rubbing their protruding trouser bulges on his traps, impatiently awaiting their turns. He could also barely make out between Blankenship’s hip plunges that Lang was on his knees now, feverishly servicing Alvarez. Obviously Lang couldn’t wait. Okay. It was fine with him. It was all good. He looked up. Blankenship was closest to him, flexing biceps now. Wow, Casey thought. But mine are bigger. Wait till he sucks my cock. Behind Blankenship stood Gunst, eagerly awaiting his turn. Gunst’s cock was one he was looking forward to. He rapidly finished up on Blankenship, bringing him to climax, and then pushing him out of the way, grabbed for Gunst, who, surprised, came forward awkwardly. “Give me your dick, big man,” said Casey. “And let me see those big guns of yours.” Gunst began to flex huge biceps, as Casey took the giant cock in his mouth and began to chow down on it. Wow. Even bigger than Abdul’s. February 10th, 2022 2100 Hours Casey had oiled his arms up just before he met Sam in the corridor. He knew he wanted to show his biceps to the handsome young officer. It was as if he knew Sam would be coming. An instinct. From across the lab earlier that evening he’d seen the gleam in Sam’s eye, saw the once-over that was a little different, saw the stare Sam couldn’t cover at his large package. He knew there would be deep-throating going on before the evening was over. He could hardly wait. But first, he had oiled his biceps. “Play with then. G’wan. Feel my biceps. Have some fun with them. You know you want to.” Casey raised his fists higher and took a step closer. Sam could feel his breath. Sam brought up both his hands, and ran them along the flexed biceps of both Casey’s arms. He clapped the hard peaks, smacked the left forearm, and ran his fingers along a network of thick veins. Casey moved a little closer still. He brought his left arm right up under Sam’s nose. “…….why don’t you lick it…..?” he murmured. Sam gazed into Casey’s eyes. His gaze was mild, unthreatening, encouraging, hopeful, but firm. He wanted his biceps licked. Sam slowly leaned in, his eyes never leaving Casey’s and lightly flicked the biceps head with his tongue. Casey’s eyes closed and he inhaled gallons of air, heavily heaving forward. Then…… R-r-r-i-i-i-i-p-p-p! That was all it took – the touch of Sam’s tongue. Each of the straining sleeves of his t-shirt gave way, and tore open wide. Casey’s biceps burst free of their final confine, both gleaming with power. Sam licked the peaks, ran his tongue firmly up and down mountains of muscle, tasting dusky mineral oil. A droplet of moisture streamed slowly down the left peak. Sam licked it up. “Your shirt’s going,” he said quietly. “Fuck it,” said Casey. The fabric stretched to its maximum length, and split again in six different places, drifting gently down his torso and hanging at his belt. Casey tore off the remnants of the shredded t-shirt and blasted into a front lat spread. “It’s gone. I go through a lotta shirts this way.” "I'm sure of it." “I wanna keep posing for you.” “Go for it.” “Stand back then.” Casey started reeling off poses. First, he showed off his 60” chest in six different ways - front lat spread, most muscular, side chest left and right, crab shots, and slow pec dancing. "Boom Boom Boom Boom," he yelled out proudly as his pecs leaped and danced. His nipples were taut and high and hard. He wriggled and slapped his quads, still encased in the skintight white jeans. He turned full around and went into a lat spread, hands on his hips. “Watch this,” he commanded. His lats flared wider than seemed humanly possible. He arched his butt towards the ceiling and threw his head back, and every tendon of his back leaped out. Veins criss-crossed the canvas of his physique. Sam resisted a momentary impulse to fall to his knees and bury his face in his glorious butt. Somehow he restrained himself. Casey turned back front. “Doin’ hair now,” he said, cocking one biceps up and palming the back of his head with the other arm. Sam laughed. “You’re too young to remember Tom Platz.” Aha. In an instant, Casey got it. This dude knows who Tom Platz is. The dude likes muscle. Casey covered well. “I know who he was! He was awesome! "BAM!” Casey flexed his biceps. “You’ve never seen guns like this!” His enormous muscles danced, gleaming brilliantly in the bright kitchen light. Sam saw the look in Casey’s eye, and knew in a flash that he’d blown his cover. He was a muscle worshipper, too. Shit. Still, he covered well. “How about a little more oil there?” “Sure!” Casey said eagerly, secretly overjoyed. A worshipper! WOW. He whipped open a cabinet door and produced a large bottle of mineral oil. “Pour it on me, baby!” Sam stood and smiling, slowly unscrewed the bottle cap. He poured a generous amount of oil into his palm, and began to apply to Casey’s pecs. Casey brought his hands back to his hips and expanded his chest to its fullest size. Sam smoothed the oil onto the muscle boy. Beneath his hand he could feel Casey’s heart beating, the blood pulsing, the unyielding hardness of warm muscle. He rubbed the oil in. Casey’s pecs glistened, and droplets of sweat beaded into the mixture. Sam poured more oil and layered it onto to his rocky washboard abs. He smoothed the liquid evenly, then rubbed his hands together and took hold of the flaring lats, running his hands down Casey’s obliques. Sam glanced down at Casey’s jeans. The looming fly was beginning to bulge even larger. The men’s eyes met. Casey’s face colored a little. He was embarrassed. “Sorry, man,” he said. “Getting oiled always works me up.” He reached down to his crotch, squatted a little, pushing his big butt out, and adjusted himself. His face was bright red now. He explained. “These pants are too tight. Zaftig made us wear them tonight. Usually we’re just in jocks. Or posers. They’re made specially just for us. So we can fit everything in them.” He was breathing heavily, now, and though he felt slightly humiliated that his priapic eagerness was showing so clearly. All the same he was happy and satisfied that things were going so well. He had gotten to show Sam his muscles up close before the other guys did, and without getting caught. He flexed again his biceps and stood back. “I like doing that,” he said. “Go right ahead.” “Okay!” He flexed a few moments more, and then stopped. “So what do you want to know?” he asked happily. He looked down. “Sorry about the hard on.” There was no hiding it now. “It’s okay. You’re young. It’s bound to happen. Not a problem. Pull your pants down.” “Yeah?” asked Casey happily. “Yeah. I know you big bodybuilders love to pull your pants down, keep them over your ankles, waddle around with your pants over your big feet, showing off your quads…” “Okay!” Casey was practically singing with joy at the prospect of showing this handsome new guy, a guy he’s just met and already was swooning for, his huge muscles. “And my hams, wait until you see my hams…..” he crooned as he pulled his pants down to his ankles. October 21st, 2021 1900 Hours Casey looked down the row of waiting musclemen, shifting nervously, eagerly from foot to foot, and saw that Moster would come last – that implacable huge mountain of a member would be the last of the evening to maraud his throat. He closed his eyes and dreamed as Gunst let loose with a cascade of gism down his throat. Casey swallowed every drop. And was on to the next, who, it happened, was Chad. Followed by LeFevre. Together the two men plunged their cocks down Casey’s throat at the same time. He’d been sucking cock twenty minutes now, on his knees, his face thick with cum deposits, now and then flexing his own huge biceps while he sucked, now and then switching back and forth to Schumacher and Waring. The men watched intently. Casey pulled back and called out to Moster. “Tell them all to pull their pants down. Now. Around their ankles. Keep them down. I want to see their quads. And their hams.” He licked his lips, then wiped his hands on his cheeks and lapped up the cum. He grinned. It was even in his eyes. He didn’t care. “You heard him, men,” called out Moster from the back of the line. He unzipped and plunged his pants down to his ankles. All unzipped. Pants around ankles. Huge quads blazing with veins. And thick cocks, erect, lining up, down the row, one after another. Even Tiffany’s. And even Tiffany’s was huge. And beautiful. “Yeah, lookin’ good,” Casey mumbled, licking his Chad’s cock now. “Take ‘em both, boy,” Chad growled, his good humor vanished. “Yes, sir,” said Casey, sucking obediently. His knees were beginning to hurt. He reached down to rub them, and in an instant, the sweet-hearted Eli Meyer, from the back of the line, was suddenly there at his side with a pillow, which he got from God knew where, fluffing and arranging. He tapped the top of Casey’s quads and, one knee at a time, and never breaking his suck rhythm, Casey lifting each leg and allowed the pillow to be slid under his aching, bruised knees. Eli rose and Casey saw his bobbing cock, eye to eye. “Wanna thank you,” he muttered. He reached up and tousled his hair. He could see Eli was hoping for service. Casey pushed Chad and LeFevre roughly away and grabbed Eli by the hips, pulling him close. “Unzip,” he commanded, forming the words clearly so that Eli could read his lips. He unzipped and his eager, big young muscleboy penis spilled out. Casey’s mouth enveloping his now-at-attention rigid cock. Chad and LeFevre grumbled angrily but backed off, impressed by Casey’s determination. He was done with them. “Maybe we should have gotten him the pillow?” “It’s okay,” said LeFevre as he knelt before Chad and finished the job, grabbing Chad’s cock and enveloping it with his lips. He pumped himself to release as Chad shot in his mouth. “AUUUGHHHGGGHHH FUCCCKKK!!” Casey paid no attention. He worked Eli to a frenzied climax in no time. Thick spurts of cum travelled down his throat. An instant later, there was Obatu’s big black rod, marauding his mouth. “Keep those pants down around your ankles,” Casey commanded. “I wanna see quads. And bulges.” “Yes, sir,” answered one of the men. Probably Lang. “You heard the boy. Pants down. Around the ankles. Keep those cocks covered till he’s ready for you,” ordered Moster. “It’s what the boy likes,” he added. All the while, Dr. Irving’s video cam continued to whirr. Dr. Shaft will pay major bucks for this tape, thought Moster with some satisfaction. Thousands. Casey finished with Obatu, cumming in his mouth, sperm dribbling down Casey’s chin into big pools on the pillow beneath his knees. “AUUUGHHHGGGHHH shittttt!!” "Glad you enjoyed it," said Casey. "Next?" The line moved forward one more man. Moster’s turn was coming up soon. February 10th, 2022 2115 Hours Sam stood back and smiled, still breathing hard himself from the posing routine he had just witnessed. The kid was charming. Was it an act? Had to be. No matter. Casey was right. His hamstrings were sick. Back-blooming with thick roiling mounds of sheer striated muscle, in line with his rock hard butt, sweeping past the back of his head, thick and solid and bursting. But everything about the swole, beautiful young muscle beast was sick. And swole. Sam caught his breath. Casey was sweating now, standing before him in only his bulging posers, his pants still around his ankles. Sam decided to play it calm. “So. How long have you lived here?” “Three years.” Casey was breathing heavily, trying to seem casual, but with his swelling penis smoothing out the few folds that were in his posers, poling ever outward, it was increasingly impossible. “I think give or take, 3 years. Um. I don’t remember. Seems like forever. I got here when I was 17. But I only moved up the hill here a few months ago. When they thought I was big enough.” “When they thought you were big enough.” “Yeah.” “I see.” “Had a really tough workout tonight before the showing. Let’s see. Got here three years ago. I think.” He put the bottle down and started counting on his fingers, thinking hard. “Zaftig first spotted me when I was 15. I just got thrown out of school. I had nowhere to go. He told me to start training heavier, and he got me a little apartment. He paid me to train, said he wanted to see where I would be in two years.” He ticked off a finger. “I trained hard on my own for two years. When I was17, um, yeah, when I was 17, I finally met Zaftig. And that’s when he moved me here to the mountain.” “Why were you thrown out of school?” “Fighting.” He picked up the bottle and drank again. “I put about 12 guys in the hospital one night.” “I see.” “They were laughing at my dick.” “Uh hunh.” Casey changed the subject. “Zaftig thought I had real potential. But there were a few guys ahead of me. One or two dropped out of the program. A few got promoted into ranks. Once I got here, I started really training, training hard. Day and night. Had to follow a strict regimen.” “Sounds tough.” “Naw. I like it. I mean, what else can I do? Not much. I’m dumb.” Casey chugged the last of the 5 gallons. Sam watched him silently. He put the empty bottle down and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “I mean, yeah, it’s tough, but not so much when you love lifting like I do.” “Tell me about it. Tell me more about you.” “Hunh? Really? You want to know about me?” “Sure.” October 21st, 2021 1940 Hours Tiffany’s session had come and gone as fast as Casey could get the mean little muscleboy to cum. In his mouth, as it happened. Now Moster stood in front of Casey. It was finally his turn. All the men leaned in to watch. “Men, dismissed,” Moster said calmly. “Casey, to the showers.” The men looked at each other, stunned and perplexed. Abdul grumbled and walked quietly out of the room. He would head for the heavy bag room first and once he’d worked up a sweat, then find Pedro again. “Let’s go pose,” said Lang to Alvarez after a moment. “Yeah. Let’s go.” The two left the room. All filed out, a little perplexed. “Ain’t he even gonna spank him?” Hension asked plaintively as they left the gym floor. “How many times do you have to be told, don’t say ‘ain’t’,” barked Obatu, clapping him on the back of the head. “Ouch!” “Hit him in the face and he’s yours forever,” said Chad. Casey heard the men roaring as they headed down the hall. He wiped some of the cum off his face. Damn, every time he met with these guys he walked away coated with cum. Stlll, it tasted good. Damn good. He wiped his cheek and licked his fingers. “That was fun!” Already Casey recognized Blankenship’s voice. The laughing subsided as the men moved away down the hall. Yeah, Casey thought, it was. He had to agree. “Casey? The showers.” “Yes, sir.” He got up and turned to go, wiping his face and mouth with a towel. Eli scrambled to get the cum-covered pillow, which he threw at Dr. Irving, getting cum all over his lab coat before scampering out of the room, grabbing his clothes. Moster watched as the harried Irving packed up the camera and the lights and left the room, wiping his coat and muttering angrily as he left. What came next Casey couldn’t quite believe. “I’ll join you in the shower in 10 minutes. Get ready for me.” Casey turned back and stared. Moster had crossed to his desk and reached into a drawer for a small vial. He was taking a handful of white caps. He smiled up at Casey. “My guess is that you need a little more intro into what we do here. To relax. Go ahead, Casey. Showers.” “The showers……” Casey repeated dumbly. “Yes. Hit the showers. I’ll join you. I think I need one, too.” Moster stretched, raised his arms behind his back, rotated his massive torso. In his trousers his huge organ shifted lazily. Casey gaped a moment at Moster. “You need a …..?” “A shower. Yes.” “With…..just me?” “I think so. Few things I want to talk about. Privately. Got it?” “Uh….” “Go on then." “Yes, sir!” Casey backed out the door, turned, and and ran down the corridor. Towards the showers. This time, he knew exactly where he was going. February 10th, 2022 2125 Hours Casey was thrilled that an officer as handsome as Ensign Victor was interested in his story. He sat down on the stool opposite Sam and spread his arms out wide. But he paused, perplexed. “What d’ya wanna know?” “Well, do you ever get out?” “Away from here? Sometimes. We’re told to stay away from town, but some of the guys go sometimes. At night. And sometimes we head down to LA.” “LA? Why?” “Some of the men who fund us live there. We show up and demonstrate our progress.” “I see. In a group? All of you at once?” “Occasionally. Usually we, you know, split up. Into smaller groups. And we’re allowed, if we’re discreet, to make private appointments, and we can keep the all money, too.” He stopped, proud. “I’ve made about $30,000. Just in the last six months. They’re keeping it for me.” Sam tried to keep a straight face. “$30,000?” He coughed. “Okay. So ….you hustle?” Casey colored, looked down, and seemed a little mortified. “No, not really. Is it? I guess it is. But some men like to see our muscles in private sessions, and ask us to do….um, things…to them…to show off our strength.” “I can imagine. And they pay you?” “Well, they contribute. And if they want to, um, suck our cocks, or fuck us, or have fuck them, or kiss our buttholes or something, then they have to contribute more.” “Isn’t that hustling?” “Okay, I guess it is. You see, I hadn’t had much experience before then.” “Experience? You mean you’d never had sex with a man before?” “No. Never. Not with anyone. Not until I got here. I still haven’t fucked a girl. They won’t let me. I want to, I guess. I mean, if she likes muscles, I mean, why not? But no, no sex. Not before I got here. But …then…after that – WOW. Like, every day! And I like sucking cock, I guess. And fucking. And I really like fucking tight bubblebutts. And I go nuts when I get worshipped. When littler guys, like you, tell me how big I am. How strong. How muscular. When guys….” He stopped, suddenly mortified. The words had come out in a rush. Maybe he was revealing too much. But Sam was calm. “Go on.” He plunged back in. “I just go crazy. You see…” he paused, now completely beet red with embarrasment, “getting my cock sucked while guys talk about my muscles takes me to……another planet, I guess. I lose all control.” “How?” Sam’s tone was warm, understanding. “I……I guess I get mean. Happy. Nasty. Mean. I mean, I like it. No, that’s not right. I crave it. I crave getting my cock sucked. And I like to show them how strong I am. You know, throw them around a bit. Pick them up. Carry them around, throw them down on the floor, step on them, sit on them. Sit on their faces. It’s easy. And they pay more, too.” Sam leaned in, his voice sympathetic. “You sit on them?” “Yeah….” Casey’s voice was low. “Tell me all about it,” he said. “Okay,” said Casey. He thought back. “It started when they made me start to suck cock. To see if I liked it. And….I did. I do.” And he remembered back to that first night – when he’d first sucked cock. When he’d first sucked all of their cocks, as it happened. He leaned in, and began to talk. How exciting it all was at first…but then how he longed for something more. He knew he could trust Ensign Victor. Sam was, after all, a muscle worshipper. And Casey was close to the best there was. Casey had long dreamed of his very own muscle worshipper. The legend that bodybuilders are aloof and don’t want to be worshipped? Bullshit. Bodybuilders wanted their very own private worshippers just as much as muscle schmoes wanted bodybuilders. If Casey knew anything at all, he knew that. He’d learned it in LA. And now he was going to tell Sam all about it. And then tell Sam that he knew just exactly what he was. And Sam, of course, was all ears, all solicitation and comfort. Even as he felt his own excitement growing. He felt his cock, too, burgeoning in his trousers, until he didn’t think he could stand it much more. But of course, he’d have to stand it. At least until Casey was finished talking. And so, Sam listened. Patiently, as it happened. And Casey talked and talked. As Sam’s cock got stiffer and stiffer.
  22. TRANSFORM Muscle City Commencement Day Billy Titus was looking at his reflection in the mirror, straightening his tie around his thickly muscled neck. Finding a dress shirt that fit his powerful torso had been a challenge. They had either resembled tents that billowed out around his narrow waist in order to fit his massive pectoral globes, or they grabbed onto his upper arms tighter than his skin, snapping threads and rending the cotton fabric with the slightest of movements. His handsome mouth quirked sideways as his thick, manly fingers fumbled with the silk. He was so unaccustomed to wearing anything like this that he had forgotten how a Windsor knot was supposed to be made. A low, powerful groan rumbled up from his muscled chest, and he let out a heavy sigh of consternation. Another set of hands suddenly appeared on his mountainous shoulders and squeezed him roughly. A massive muscular bulk reared up behind him, its dimensions both larger and more impressive than his own superhuman body. “Problems?” The voice was deep and strong with quiet, restrained power. Billy’s brow wrinkled and his gaze shifted from his own reflection to the face of his young lover—and pupil—Carl Stanton. Their secret relationship was hardly secret any longer, but a teacher having sex with one of his students wasn’t something that either one of them wanted to deal with. Carl might be eighteen years old and had certainly been the initiator of their lengthy and loving liaison, but the two men already had enough on their plates to deal with. So a secret their love remained. Billy grimaced. “It’s this fu… stupid tie.” “Fucking tie,” Carl said with one of his full and beautiful smiles. He was a full head taller than Billy, so the older man could see the younger man’s entire face. The smile made his features appear more youthful, and melted Billy’s heart to see it. A full beard of rough golden hair coated his chin and cheeks, and a fuzzy porn-star mustache crawled across his upper lip. “You can call it a fucking tie, you know.” “What sort of teacher would I be to use that kind of language around my students?” Carl reached around his teacher’s neck and started to knot the tie for his lover. “I seem to recall you using that word in a different context quite a bit last night.” A throbbing heat emanating between Billy’s butt cheeks where the other man’s thick cock had lodged itself gave evidence to his words. He could feel Carl’s hard muscles pressing against him, and smell his intoxicating masculine scent distinctly. “And I don’t remember either of us complaining at the time.” Carl was beautiful. Carl was powerful. Carl was naked. Carl was horny. Carl was always these things, and what was more, he was growing more beautiful and more powerful as he stood behind his lover, just as Billy Titus was also growing bigger, stronger and hornier with every breath he took. Something lived inside them. Something that made their bodies swell with muscle, and made their cocks lengthen and thicken and grow hard in a moment, and made their balls churn and bloat with cream, and made them need each other with a passion that could grow hotter than the sun. They had been turned into something more than human, and more than man, and they were still growing with every tick of the clock on the wall. They had been growing for far more than a year, now, and it was Carl that had changed the most, providing Billy with the benefits of the gains he had been making by virtue of his more active recruitment efforts. For Billy, life and growth was all about Carl, the only man he had been with for the entire duration of his metamorphosis into the superhuman creature looking back at him from the mirror. Carl’s massive body was warm and hard and sleek, his bulging muscles encased in perfect silken flesh that begged to be touched. He stood over seven feet high, now—and that was his “shrunken” dimensions—and was nearly too wide to easily fit through a standard door frame. He could lift cars above his head with ease and bench press a literal ton of weight without breaking a sweat. But for all his size and power, he was a soft pussycat when it came to taking care of Billy. He protected his lover with fierce pride and overwhelming love. Billy was behind the younger man’s incredible gains, and was only indirectly benefitting from Carl’s dozens of liaisons with other young men who were similarly altered—or had been altered by Carl. The power that lived inside these men fed and grew with the addition of new blood to its lineage, and Carl was a very accomplished and eager participant in its development. While they both would grow stronger and larger by doing nothing at all—by simply living and eating and breathing—he could realize sudden augmented growth spurts and more intensive and stronger increases to his muscular development and masculine energy whenever he initiated a new member of their growing team. And he was very good at doing that. For the moment, though, it was just Carl alone with Billy, as the teacher prepared for the commencement ceremony for his graduating class. And as that thought entered his head, he shifted his gaze again to the face of the young man standing behind him now, fixing his tie for him. “I’m still not entirely sure the whole naked graduating class is a good idea.” • • • • “It’s not like anyone else is going to be there,” Carl argued. Like all the other school-related activities, it had been decided that the all-male pupils of Billy’s class, the so-called Muscle Club members, would be secluded and make do with a separate ceremony in order to avoid some of their more…disruptive behavior. “And, you know, since we conduct a lot of class time in the buff anyway….” Carl looked Billy in the eye again. “I mean, why not?” “Why not graduate naked?” Carl’s beautiful smile appeared again. “You see my point.” “There’s the question of ritual and custom to consider, isn’t there?” “Ritual and custom,” Carl repeated, trying to mimic Billy’s tone. “Why do we need to honor the rituals and customs of people who don’t even want us around?” Billy opened his mouth to object, but Carl overran him. “It’s supposed to be a celebration as much as a ceremony, isn’t it? And aren’t we supposed to enjoy a celebration? And isn’t this about commencing with adulthood, moving out of our childhood years, and…other things?” “You’re about as much of a child as I am.” Carl had matured quite a lot during their time together. He was as smart as he was handsome, and his brain seemed to be developing almost as quickly as his muscle and cock. “You know what I mean.” Carl finished tying the tie and kissed Billy’s neck. He had done a perfect job of it—as usual. “We want to do this our way, the way we want to move forward, the way we want to celebrate who we are and who we’re becoming.” Billy turned around. “By staging the school’s first all-nude graduation ceremony.” Carl shrugged. Billy laughed slightly. “Naked, huh?” Carl nodded, recognizing that look on Billy’s face and understanding that he’d won this argument easily. “Naked, unashamed, proud, glorious and awesome. All the things you taught us to believe in ourselves, Teach. Heading forward into the world with our heads held high and…” “And your cocks at attention.” Billy gazed down at Carl’s massive shank, watching it plump as his lover expressed his emotions with such unabashed pride. These were all good kids, he thought. So fucking what if they wanted to graduate without a thread of clothing covering their massive and perfect bodies? “Well, I’m afraid I won’t be joining you in your festivities.” Carl was about to object, but Billy placed his finger against Carl’s soft, full lips to silence him. “I’m still your teacher, and I’m still expected to uphold some of the traditions and rules. One of which is that the teacher wears a suit at graduation.” Carl folded his gargantuan, meaty arms across his equally gargantuan and meaty chest, and cast his eyes south on Billy’s body. “Then I guess you’ll be wanting your pants after all.” Billy blushed. It made Carl’s heart flutter to see it. Goddamn, he had a cute boyfriend. “Yes, please,” the teacher said. Carl shook his head slightly and turned, walking towards the couch to retrieve Billy’s ironed slacks. Billy just gazed with longing and lust at the younger man’s amazing ass, and the way the two globes of brawn shifted and bounced as he walked. He had a fuzzy butt, and Billy wanted to take a bite of those huge peaches. But he suppressed both his insatiable sexual appetite and the constant throbbing of his ever-ready cock as Carl handed him the dove grey wool slacks and watched him tucking that lengthy thick pipe of sex along his thigh. “How do I look?” “Good,” Carl admitted. “Very good.” He opened his arms and said, “Come’ere.” “Now, don’t you go wrinkling me,” Billy chided. “No worries, Teach,” Carl said. “But don’t blame me if your prick rips its way clean out of those pants. Even from here, I can see what you’re packing, and it looks like it wants out in a very bad way.” Billy laughed and went into his lover’s embrace, trying to wrap up the much larger man’s bulk in his own arms as he said, “I’m unbelievably proud of you, Carl.” “I know, Teach. And I owe it all to you.” “Well, not all of it. I’m pretty sure that a lot of this,” he said, emphasizing his words by grabbing onto Carl’s muscular and ample buttocks, “was here before I found it.” “I’m just glad you did...finally.” He kissed his teacher. “You sure made it difficult to get us here.” He squeezed him firmly and kissed his lips again. Billy fell into the passion of his younger lover’s lips willingly and fully, surrendering to the young man’s strength. “You loved it,” he accused. “I love this,” he responded, kissing him again. “Say it again,” he asked, softly. “I love you,” Billy said, simply. “Say it again.” “I love you.” “Again.” Billy smiled. “I. Love. You.” “Fuck, I’ll never get tired of hearing that.” The next kiss made Billy’s cock bulge and lengthen, threatening to really rip its way out of his slacks. “Slow down, Carl. You’re gonna get me overheated and I just managed to get into these clothes!” “I told you there was no need for them, anyway.” He pinched Billy’s nipple hard and watched his teacher’s cock swell again. “If you didn’t make it so easy….” “I don’t! You just know where all my buttons are.” “And don’t I love fucking love to push them,” Carl agreed. It felt incredible to Billy to realize how much—and how little—Carl had changed since they had been together. He was still seriously, overwhelmingly turned on by the young man. By the way that he looked, the sound of his voice, that intoxicating scent he could smell on himself whenever they had been together. His cock would pulse and throb and grow almost uncomfortably hard whenever Carl entered a room as if it was tuned to the other man’s presence. His whole being would heat up and his brain would sizzle with desire and his prick swelled and hungered for the other man’s body. But beyond the mere physical beauty that Carl possessed, it was the man himself—the way that his brain worked, the words that he used, the small mannerisms that probably no one else noticed—that made Billy physically need him. And he had changed, in some ways very dramatically. He was more mature, now, about so many things. He was level-headed and logical in a way that most of the other Muscle Club guys weren’t. Sure, he was still seriously oversexed and possessed of a libido that could never be fully satisfied, but he seemed in control of these things, and secure in the knowledge that Billy loved him unconditionally, just as he loved Billy. And his affections and acknowledgement of that love were so open and obvious, even where they were forced to hide it from others, or pretend it didn’t exist. Just a look, or a smile, or something in his face or his body could signal to Billy that he was thinking about them, together, embraced, kissing, fucking, loving each other with the passion they could otherwise express. And now that was all almost over. Soon, Carl would no longer be his pupil, he could be his lover, and his mate, and the man he would spend forever in his strong, powerful arms. Soon, everything was going to change. It made his heart race and his breath shudder and his cock throb. Soon. So very soon. “Do you think this’ll work?” Carl asked. Billy was still within his arms, and their faces were very close. Billy could feel Carl’s heavy, mighty prick pressing against his own. He could feel Carl’s thick muscles against his body. He could smell Carl’s delicious, erotic scent everywhere. “I don’t think we have a choice left,” Billy replied. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this, Carl.” “I didn’t get dragged into anything,” he argued. “I dragged you in, if there was any dragging going on.” “That’s all in the past, and I don’t have any regrets.” “None?” Billy considered his answer. It was true that Carl and his cohorts had transformed Billy Titus into the man he was today. It was true that he’d had no say in the matter, and that it had been done to him before he knew what was happening. But it was also true that from that day to this one, when his body had been altered so completely, and he became the mentor, father figure and instructor for all these powerful, beautiful young men that he had loved every minute of it, and he had certainly fallen deeply in love with the huge, magnificent, decent, trustworthy and altogether amazing man in whose embrace he felt nothing but love and acceptance. “No,” he said, “not one.” “Then let’s get started.” “Yes,” Billy agreed, “let’s.” • • • • “Fuck, dude!” “I know!” “No. I mean...fuck! Dude!” “I know!” Scott Richardson and Derek Manzetti were standing next to each other before a mirrored wall, gazing at their own reflections. They were the first two boys in Muscle Club—Scott had been the one who discovered the secret that unlocked the magic that had transformed them all, and Derek had been the first friend he had helped to transform. They had been more or less inseparable ever since, and as the co-Presidents of Muscle Club, they were also given first crack at any new members. Consequently, of all the men in Muscle Club, and there were dozens of them by now, if not hundreds, these two were the biggest, baddest, most muscular and powerful and horned up of them all. At least, if you asked them. Their path to glory hadn’t been easy or without its missteps and trials, but here they were, at last, ready to graduate from high school and free themselves of the reins that held these two superb stallions at bay. Though, at the moment, all they could do was stare at their own reflections and marvel at the men they had become. In one sense, they were mirror images themselves. Perhaps because Derek had been given Scott’s initial dose, or perhaps because they had shared everything—and everyone—over the months leading up to this point, but the bodies that stood before them in the mirror were now almost absolutely similar in dimension, size, beauty, power and masculine perfection. “I’d fuck me,” Scott said. “With that tool hanging between your legs, you probably could.” “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it,” he admitted. “Yeah? Why haven’t you?” Scott grinned. “When the fuck would I have time? If I’m not fucking someone else’s ass, my own ass is being fucked. Why screw around with myself when there are so many others….” “Willing to be screwed?” Derek asked. “Fuckin’ A, bro!” Scott held up his thickly muscled arm and Derek high-fived him with a loud slap. “Fuckin’ A,” Derek agreed. Then he looked at their reflections again. “Fuck, dude.” “You said that already.” But Scott had to agree with the assessment. The two men standing in the mirror were nothing short of perfect. Massive hunks of meat bulged from every inch of their well-formed bodies. Every muscle was finely detailed and beautifully married to its brothers. The level of their muscular size, form and development was staggering. And that didn’t even take into account the more than foot-long shanks of sex hanging thick and heavy over balls that could swell with cream and shoot ropes of sticky, sweet cum filled up with the power to instantly turn any other man they chose into another muscle-swollen fuck-god gifted with an unending capacity for sex. For most of their growth, Derek’s dick had outpaced Scott’s in the size department, but whether it was because they shared everything—and everyone—with each other, or because they spent most of their time together, the two young men now sported matching cocks, both in length and girth, with equally bulbous heads dangling at the end of those fat, long shafts. To all other appearances, as well, the two could be twins. Not identical twins, like Hank and Harry Johnson, the laid-back blonde giants with the surfer dude attitudes and the tans to match, but certainly as if they had shared parents. The only differences that were clearly noticeable were that Scott had strawberry blonde hair atop his head and a wealth of manly fur that coated his chest, arms and legs, with a thick treasure trail running down the exact center of his torso like a river through the swollen rocks of his abdominal wall, while Derek had dark, nearly black hair on his head and his body—with the exception of the thick crown of his pubic bush above his ample set of sexual equipment—was smooth and hairless. But in all other ways, from the width of their shoulders to the heft of their massive pectorals to the march of muscle along their abs to the bulbous and beautiful butts jutting behind them, the two looked exactly alike, right down to their shining blue eyes. Scott sighed as he put his arm across his best friend’s shoulders. “Not bad, huh?” Derek smiled and nodded. “I’d say that’s an understatement of massive proportions.” “Just like us! ‘Massive proportions!’” Scott’s hand reached down and his fingers grabbed onto the fat nub of Derek’s nipple, and he pinched it hard. He laughed watching Derek’s cock surge and bounce in immediate reaction. He knew exactly where his lover’s buttons were, and exactly how hard to push them—which was, usually, pretty fucking hard, indeed. “You’re so predictable,” he said. “Look who’s talking,” Derek responded, reaching over and grabbing Scott’s cock in his grip and rubbing the tip with the pad of his thumb. A gush of precum was his reward, as he knew it would be, and he felt its heat and thickness drain over his flesh like honey. “Well, that’s hardly fair, is it? You know how sensitive my dick is.” “I do,” Derek agreed. “Which is why I know that if I do this…” His grip loosened on the other young man’s shaft and, using the gush of pre like lube, he moved his hand up the thick inches and then back down, doing it in such a way that Scott had to arch up onto his toes as the erotic thrill of his lover’s touch drove his libido into overdrive. “...that’ll happen.” “Not fair!” “You love it.” Scott laughed. “I kinda do. Do it again.” Derek did. Scott closed his eyes and bit his lip and Derek felt his cock surge with growth and firmness, swelling with sudden power in his hand. “Fuck, dude,” Scott whispered. “Are you excited?” “Aren’t I always?” “No, I mean, by the thing?” “The thing Billy has planned?” Derek nodded. “It’s kind of scary.” “Why?” He shrugged, bunching the muscles mounted on his shoulders into insane bulges of power. “Dunno. I guess it’s the...not knowing.” “Yeah, but that’s the exciting part, too!” “I guess.” But he still looked doubtful. “Do you...do you think everyone will want to do it?” “Maybe not everyone. It’s kind of drastic but….” “But, like Billy said….” “We haven’t got a choice.” Scott looked determined. It made his young face look handsome and mature. “What the fucking fuck, right, dude?” “Yeah,” Derek agreed, smiling brightly, “what the fucking fuck?” “Speaking of fucking fucking….” The two teen heartthrobs were well-practiced in the art of lovemaking, and with each other it was now so natural and innate that no words were necessary. They fell into a rhythm with each others’ bodies and brains. Each knew what the other wanted before they thought it, and each could deliver the other into sexual nirvana, a state of perfect physical bliss that would be hard for anyone else to understand, let alone achieve. Two young men in the peak of their sexuality and physical refinement, gifted now with bodies so strong and flexible and insatiable with desire that nothing came between them and their ultimate goal of gratification—giving and receiving perfect rapturous euphoria like no one else could, with bodies designed and constructed to do this one thing with flawless perfection. And they were only growing more powerful. • • • • Raul Garza had grown a reputation as the most beautiful member of Muscle Club. Others were bigger, or had larger pricks, or had grown taller or broader, but no one else looked like he did. He was, indeed, extraordinarily beautiful. Not merely handsome, but undeniably beautiful. And with each passing hour, day, week and month, he had only grown more impossibly beautiful. Beauty, it can be said, is subjective to the observer. What one person thinks of as physical beauty, another may not. It is in the collection of things, rather than the whole, that is beautiful. It’s in the eyes, or the mouth, or the neck, or the ass. It is the way the chest arches into the shoulder, or how the muscles of the arm are married to each other in a flawless array of power. It may be in the way a person moves, or speaks, or even a gesture. With Raul, it was all of these things. He simply couldn’t help it. He was irresistibly gorgeous, and growing more powerful in his sheer physical perfection with every passing moment. His beauty could be intimidating. Looking out from the inside, it wasn’t something he thought about too much. Others just reacted to him in that way, and maybe that was how everyone felt. Some people clammed up, confronted with such physical perfection. Others tried hard to impress him, wanting perhaps to suck his beauty inside themselves just by being near. And others didn’t seem affected at all, and it was these whom Raul preferred. He was naked. He was always naked. He had not worn a stitch of clothing in months—in fact, ever since starting his senior year in high school, he had decided that he would no longer wear any clothing at all, and would live the rest of his life never bothering to cover up an inch of his body or his beauty. At first, others thought this purely ego. He loved himself so much, he could only believe that others did too. Wouldn’t everyone want to see all that he was? Wouldn’t they want to watch his development day by day as his body grew ever more powerful and perfect, and his face continued to improve and become impossibly, inhumanly beautiful? For him, though, it was more about practicality than ego. Oh, certainly, he had a tremendous ego. But with everyone fawning over him, in awe of him, wanting to look at him and touch him and be with him—who could blame him for that? But as his body grew larger and increasingly unsurpassed in its level of physical beauty, the clothing seemed odd and stupid. Plus, he didn’t need to wear it for protection or warmth anymore, so what was the point? He was standing now on the public sidewalk before the city’s civic auditorium. He stood six-feet, seven-inches tall. He had 24-inch upper arms and a 34-inch waist. His cock was eleven inches long, and thick enough to make it difficult to grasp in one of his large hands. The two solid hemispheres of his chest projected forward by inches, and created a crevasse between his pecs that could hide several pencils. Fat, luscious nipples with thick, chewable tips pointed towards the sidewalk. A mane of dark, soft auburn curls cascaded from his head and fell along his wide, mountainous shoulders. His square jaw and high cheeks were dusted with a perfect shadow of whiskers, and his eyes—the color of caramel—smoldered with unrestrained lust and need. His luscious, full lips were parted slightly and his chest rose and fell as he breathed. His feet were shoulder-length apart, allowing his fat cock to dangle forward between the massive, highly-defined wedges of muscle flaring from his thighs. His arms hung loosely at his sides, the muscle bulging as if he had spent the last year punishing them to swollen glory. His long neck, nearly as thick as his head, was tall and straight as he looked down the street and watched his friend and fellow Muscle Club member approached. • • • • Brian Chan was a monster. ‘Huge’ only hinted at the young man’s impossible dimensions. Unlike Raul, however, Brian continued to attempt to surround the mighty bulk of his muscled frame in a shirt and jeans, though in most ways that only succeeded in accentuating and highlighting the fact that he was maybe the largest teenager striding the earth. Standing now seven-feet, nine-and-a-half inches tall in his ‘compact’ form, Brian was a behemoth whose movements shook the ground. Muscle swelled from his body like an uncontrolled growth of moss on the trunk of a tree. 30-inch upper arms. A nearly 90-inch chest. Thighs easily larger than most men’s waists. He looked slightly absurd as he walked up the street to meet Raul before graduation, carrying all that muscle on him as if he were constructed of boulders, but he insisted on dressing in clothes so he would look “normal,” no matter how much Raul rolled his eyes. Unlike most of the others, Brian’s growth came in sudden, uncontrolled waves. Like his body was saving up muscle growth that would suddenly bloom outward in new cables and swollen masses, and his only warning was a surging sense of heat and power that would wash over him like an orgasm as his body ripped its way free of another set of clothes and exposed its new dimensions for anyone to see. He still wasn’t used to it. It was...awkward. He never knew when it would happen, so he was never quite prepared for it. Others found it either amazing or erotic or both, and afterwards his libido was pushed so far into overdrive that he felt he could fuck anything that moved. His cock would immediately and unstoppably arch up to its new larger size and start pumping out fat gouts of cream in long, thick ropes as his body stripped itself of clothing, like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. A few of the other guys had similar growth patterns, but no one could match Brian for the extent of his explosions of new muscle and cock—nor the frequency of the sudden growth. He waved at the unmistakable naked figure of Raul standing so unashamed and beautiful on the sidewalk, out in the middle of the city on a perfect summer day. Raul waved back, and started walking towards him. Hell, the guy looked like he was fucking someone with every stride of his perfect body, and The Beast would start swinging with its heavy thickness. “Hey, Big B,” Raul said, placing his hand behind Brian’s absurdly thick neck and pulling their lips together for a kiss. Even Raul’s lips felt beautiful pressed against his own, and the smell of the other young man’s intensely erotic pheromones rose into his nostrils and made his balls tingle. They pulled their lips apart and Raul looked up and down at his friend’s mass, reaching down and slowly stroking his own dick. “Bigger?” he asked. It was sometimes hard to tell if the huge Asian had surged recently. “Same big,” Brian said. “But I’ve been feeling...antsy all day.” “Might as well strip yourself out of them clothes then, Brian. They’re not going to do you much good when you start hulking.” Raul’s cock was starting to come to life, swelling visibly as the helmet bloomed. Brian laughed slightly. “I’ll leave the public nudity to you. You’re better at it.” “I’m better at a lot of things.” He licked his lips and rubbed the tip of his prick. “Oh, I know, Raul. I know.” He shook his head slightly as his friend so openly and unashamedly pleasured himself standing in broad daylight in the center of town. “There’s nothing you won’t do, is there?” Raul shrugged and smiled. “Don’t know. Do you have a list of things you’d like to try with me?” “I’d call you a tease, but we both know that’s not true.” “I never tease,” Raul said. “I only promise.” His cock, which he called The Beast, was now raging hard and starting to drool. “Ever had sex in public?” “No,” Brian admitted. “I’m a shy boy.” “You’ve got fuck all to be shy about, Bri. Let’s put on a show and see who turns up. You never know, we might invite a couple more friends into the Club.” “Or the police,” Brian said. “They’re welcome to join, too,” Raul answered with a huge grin. “I know there aren’t laws here about public nudity, but I gotta think that what you’re standing there doing right now doesn’t exactly fall inside the confines of decency.” Raul’s cock was stretched to its limit, arching upwards proudly and extending longer than a foot from his beautiful muscular frame. Thick veins wound up its length and the eye was open and weeping a steady flow of clear honey that broadcast its owner’s masculine scent and sexual desire strongly, like a clarion call for all Muscle Club members to answer. Raul looked down at his prick, stroking himself slowly and with obvious love. “I don’t see anyone objecting, do you?” “Not at the moment,” Brian admitted. Raul met his friend’s gaze. “You want some?” He grabbed hold of his monster and allowed a swollen bubble of his rich, delicious cream to appear at the mouth of his powerful snake. “I’ve got plenty.” Brian licked his lips. It was a sorely tempting offer. “You’re incorrigible,” Brian accused. “That’s just a big word for unashamed, which I am. And which you should be, too.” “It also means naughty.” “Guilty as charged,” Raul agreed. The swollen bubble of cum was growing in size, and began to slowly drip from his enormous erection like Elmer’s glue, thick and white and creamy. “Come on, Bri, don’t make me waste all this.” The huge Asian teen rolled his eyes and slowly dropped to his knees, saying, “If you insist….” Raul closed his eyes and started pumping fat floods of cream into Brian’s mouth as his friend sucked with delight and hunger on The Beast. “Fuck, bro,” Raul said softly, “I needed this.” As Brian swallowed the copious flow, he could feel his body begin to heat up, and his heart to race, and the strong, recognizable sense that he was about to swell with power all over again. Grabbing hold of Raul’s ass in his huge paws and pulling his friend’s cock deep inside his throat, he held on as his body began to magically expand with fresh, raw brawn. His shirt spilt its seams like paper and his newer body started to emerge. Raul smiled as his friend began to swell with new muscle, and it made him feel as if his cream was doing it. That was how powerful he was, now. Just a suck on his cock and he could make even the biggest dude in town get even bigger. Brian moaned and gulped as he felt the heat overwhelm him. Even knowing that it was coming didn’t make it one iota less enjoyable as his body’s muscled swelled fatter and harder. He could feel it intensely, and i never got any less amazing. There was a pressure bordering on pain at his crotch as his cock was quickly growing erect and needing escape from its denim prison. He sucked down the flood of Raul’s unending load and his back expanded by the inch and his chest bulged forward and he’d ripped free of his shirt in seconds. His fingers fumbled to undo his pants and allow his swelling prick some room when it decided it had enough of its cage and ripped free, pushing out and throbbing with its orgasmic pulse. His first gush splattered against the sidewalk, a fat creamy spray as his balls pushed their overflowing supply up the new inches of his cock. His mouth let go of Raul’s cock—rewarding him with a sudden splash of sticky wet warmth on his face as he and Raul switched places. “Get some,” he said, breathlessly, because he knew that the first load from his freshly grown body was overwhelmed with power. Raul didn’t need to be asked twice. He fell to his knees and Brian rose off his and opened his mouth to catch the second thick gush. It hit him full force and he swallowed eagerly before grabbing onto Brian’s surging manhood and welcoming its swollen head between his lips. He fed on Brian’s strength, and Brain gave it all to him. Raul looked up at his friend, and Brian looked down to see what his cream could do to Raul, watching him growing even more beautiful and powerful as his body bloomed with perfect muscle. He came harder watching Raul’s beauty intensify. He did not think it possible for a man to look better than Raul already did, but there he was proving him wrong. Whatever it was inside him that finessed his development and polished every inch of his muscle-swollen frame to flawless purification was doing it again. Brian could see his friend swelling with new power, and even as the bands of muscle on his shoulders multiplied and his chest swelled forward, the man’s face grew ever more achingly beautiful. He came harder still, watching what he was doing with his energized cum. And Raul grew larger and more beautiful with every gushing flood. • • • • Theodore St. George was a 66-year-old man who, until some time ago, had been an art teacher at the school where the male student population had lately begun to experience radical physical changes, and usually overnight. He had been a slight man with a bald head and wire-rimmed spectacles, fond of bow ties and suspenders who spent his spare time painting landscapes at the local park. That was who he had been, until two of his former students—duplicate twins named Harry and Hank, who had lately experienced those exact physical changes that turned them into sun-tanned mirror-images of some blonde demigod gifted with huge muscular development and an apparent lack of modesty—encountered him on one such morning and took it upon themselves to welcome their mentor into the unusual group dynamic known as Muscle Club. From that day to this, Mr. St. George was known as Teddy, and looked nothing at all like his former self. Like all men of any age who were exposed to the transforming properties that every Muscle Club member possessed in every cell and fiber of their bodies, Mr. St. George was changed drastically, his entire body chemistry altered and rearranged, so that when it was all said and done, Teddy was an alabaster-skinned god with deep green eyes, a shock of very black hair, and a body constructed from muscle so dense and thick that the man looked as if here were made of stone. Teddy was introduced to the members of Muscle Club as another teen, transformed by the twins, and re-entered his old school now as a student, though he spent the better part of his time out of class than in it. The masquerade lasted for some weeks before Mr. St. George confessed himself to Billy Titus, who only smiled knowingly and nodded, kissing the old man on his soft lips and welcoming him into their tight-knit society. “It’s nice to have another adult around,” Billy told him. “I’m not sure I still qualify on that account,” Teddy replied. “I seem to have lost control of myself to the needs of...this.” He grabbed the hard shank of sex in the crotch of his jeans and squeezed. “It seems to have a mind of its own.” “I know,” Billy acknowledged. “It can be...challenging.” “I sincerely don’t know how you control yourself.” “Sometimes I don’t, if we’re being honest.” More, he did not say. “But I’m happy you trust me with your secret.” “I should say that it isn’t much of a secret.” “As long as we’re sharing, you and I, may I confide in you and ask for your help?” “Of course, William, anything at all!” Billy smiled, seeing the face of his old teaching compatriot now reflected in the youthful, masculine visage before him. “I have something planned. Something...difficult. And it will need your help.” “My help?” “Yes,” Billy said. “And any other teachers who may have been similarly...upgraded.” Theodore St. George smiled. “I think I may know one or two candidates.” “And money. We’re going to need money.” “How much?” “A lot.” Teddy’s elegant eyebrow rose on his unlined forehead. “Just what have you got in mind, William?” A smile twisted up the corners of Billy’s kissable lips, and a sparkle was in his blue, blue eyes. • • • • George Carmichael and Chuck Willis were still a year away from high school graduation, but it had been decided by the Muscle Club co-presidents, Scott and Derek, that this year every member of the Club could attend. Willis had been the one to welcome George into Muscle Club personally, and the two had been mostly inseparable ever since. Willis was built like a fucking bull. Masses of thick, rock-hard muscle swelled outward everywhere on his body, almost as if his skin could not contain it. Deep fissures separated the bulbous muscle heads, and fat veins covered his brawn like tributaries over mountains. He had coffee-colored eyes and copper-colored skin, with a vast wealth of dark man-fur that coated his hyper-muscled body like a bear. He also smelled of raw sex very strongly, as if he had been bathing naked in the source of all fucking. George had insanely bright blue eyes that looked like jewels, and a lustrous mane of chestnut hair that flowed across his shoulders and down his back, like some Amazonian prince. He had thick eyebrows over absurdly long lashes, and full lips that looked as if they were constantly kissing. Where his boyfriend’s body was all hard bulges and deep crevasses, his was round and smooth with supple, sensuous curves to his muscle. Not fat at all, but more refined as if his body had been sculpted rather than grown. Like his lover, his body was similarly coated in curls of body hair, but rather than the coarse carpet that Willis owned, George’s was made of soft, long silk that swirled like ocean waves. If Willis was a bear, George was a lion, majestic and beautiful, with a long mane and sinuous muscles bulging along his frame. And when Willis had initiated George into the Club and George’s size and muscular development had surpassed his own, George was only too pleased to give some of it back, until they now matched each other pound for pound, even if Willis’s body looked like it was constructed from hard boulders, and George’s body was a collection of round, smooth contours. Plus, George had massive nipples. Huge. Thick, dark, supple, suckable nips perched at the edge of each slab of chest muscle as large as silver dollars. And they were as sensitive as they were large, as if their size had amplified their responsive nature. One could practically breathe on them and watch George’s fat shank of sex meat start to throb and rise. They were now, as they nearly always were, naked. Willis was lying face down on the grass at the edge of the swimming pool, while George floated face up on an inflated raft in the cool, calm water. Warm summer breezes caressed their skin, and George was paddling with soft splashes around the pool. “We should get ready,” he said, quietly in his deep, masculine tone. “Mmm,” Willis replied. “Does that mean, yes?” “Mmm.” “Mmm,” George mocked. He opened his eyes, shading them from the overhead sun, and looked towards his friend. Willis looked like some terrestrial map of forested mountains. The swell of his rump, round and muscular, rose high and mighty. The bulges along his shoulders stretched like a range of impressive hills. His skin was slick and shiny with tanning oil, burnished dark bronze. His shaggy head was a dark, wet mop of thick curls. George wanted to fuck him. “You’re not moving,” he observed. Willis turned his head to meet George’s intense blue gaze. “I’ll move when you do,” he growled. George sighed contentedly. “We’ll be late.” “No one will notice,” Willis observed. “Everybody from Muscle Club’s gonna be there.” “Someone will notice,” George answered. “Mr. Titus will notice.” Willis sighed, not contentedly but with resignation, because he knew George was right. Mr. Titus would notice. He noticed everything. Even when they were all tangled up together in “class,” all the young men of Muscle Club, all naked and horny and rutting like pigs, sucking and fucking and kissing, asses in the air, cocks hard as steel, cum flying everywhere—Mr. Titus could pick one of them out like the criminal in a line-up. He was like some Queen Bee who knew exactly where all her workers were, and what they were doing, particularly when they were doing something they shouldn’t. Willis pushed himself up onto his elbows and then turned into his side. His massive dick flopped across his muscular leg and he reached down to pet it, feeling the sharp, strong tingles of sex along its inches. Always horny. Always hungry. He loved his dick. He was looking at his lover and best friend as he caressed himself, allowing his eyes to drink in the other teen’s masses of thick muscle and all that soft fur and George’s colossal cock, half-hard and glistening in the bright sun. The dark stain of George’s fat nipples sat upon each thick pectoral globe like cherries on the top of ice cream. He growled, slightly, sounding like the bear he appeared to be. “Wanna fuck?” George smiled. “Don’t I always?” He fell from the raft into the pool and swam towards where Willis was lying, hauling himself out of the water and standing above the other huge young man. The water drained between the heavy masses of muscle like rivers through canyons, and his dick started to swell and throb as he quickly grew erect. Willis looked up at him. The sun glinted off the droplets clinging to his skin like diamonds. Those two amazing nipples looked swollen. He watched them grow hard with the same speed and hunger that George’s prick did. The nubs pushed forward and grew stiff and chewable. He knew that all he had to do was touch them, gently, just brush a fingertip against their super-sensitive tips and he could draw George close to an explosion of his delicious, thick cream. It would surge up his hard cock and fountain from the gaping mouth like a hydrant set loose, sending fat ropes of cum from the lion’s heavy balls. Willis got to his knees and grabbed George’s thick cock and aimed the head into his mouth, swallowing his lover’s meat with ease and familiarity. He drank the other man’s prick inside and down his throat, feeling it growing hot and hard as he sucked its length. It pushed against his throat, but he never gagged. He loved sucking dick, and he particularly loved sucking on his best friend’s. George reached up and grabbed one nipple in each hand, pinching them hard and forcing the first of many gushes of cum into Willis’s muscled body. He could feel himself shove a thick load up the inches of his prick and then a warm wash surrounded his cock inside his boyfriend’s mouth before he greedily guzzled it down. He wanted more. He always wanted more. And George always had more to give him. The sun was hot. Willis and George were hotter. Two young men with so much more muscle to come. • • • • “William, I’m sure you know these gentlemen already. This is Mike, Cal and Steve.” Billy reached forward and shook each man’s hand in turn, and his strength was tested to its limit each time. Firm, hard, manly handshakes that made the massive muscles lining these men’s arms swell and flex like snakes beneath their skin. It was amusing to him that men such as he was—adults rather than teenagers who had been transformed to the muscular and sexual behemoths they were now—insisted on trying to cover their overwhelming bodies in clothing. Even as it was becoming increasingly difficult to find clothing that fit, it was equally difficult not to give in to temptation as so many of the younger men had done. They were now stripping down to the bare minimum of covering, in some cases nothing more than a jockstrap that could barely contain their mammoth sexual equipment, or wearing nothing at all as Raul Garza so confidently did. Yet here they were, like him, trying to fit in with everyone else who was not nearly seven feet tall and did not have to contend with limbs bulging with enough muscle to overwhelm even the largest sizes of clothing and were not challenged by a shank of sex flesh so large, insistent and constantly charged up with need that it threatened to tear its way through whatever they managed to cover themselves with. Even now, seeing these men, he could feel that familiar overwhelming sexual energy start to throb and pulse, and he realized they were all affected similarly as their pungent masculine scents started to grow strong between them, like siren calls to sex. “I’m not entirely sure I do, actually,” he replied. “Although Cal and Steve look familiar.” “You know me better as Mr. O’Malley, the music teacher.” Mike smiled brightly, showing rows of perfect white teeth that dazzled. Billy remembered the man as having a bit of a paunch and male-pattern baldness, probably in his late forties, with an unremarkable face and a neglected body. He always thought him a rather sad man. The man standing before him now, clad in skin-tight low-waisted jeans and a body-hugging pure white Polo shirt looked no older than 19 or 20, and certainly had no sadness about him at all. It looked, rather, like he was prepared to take on the world barehanded and fuck the entire British navy. The paunch had been replaced by a clearly defined six-pack of amazing abdominal muscles, and his balding pate was now resplendent with a thick, honey-colored mane of soft curls that hung beyond his shoulders and halfway down his wide, muscular back. A rough, manicured beard and mustaches sprouted on his squared jaw and around his sensual mouth, and he was packing what looked like a ten-incher that pushed his package out to obscene dimensions. “And I’m Dr. McCloud, former biology teacher.” Billy nearly gasped in surprise. Dr. Calvin McCloud was a man in his sixties, with wrinkled skin and wireframe glasses who would have difficulty tipping the scales at ninety pounds dripping wet. But here he was transformed, a massive muscular beast of a man with a powerful, deep voice that made Billy’s ball sack quiver. He was wearing a barely-there tank-top made out of an elastic material that looked painted onto his outrageously developed torso. Two tectonic plates pressed forward from his chest, and he appeared so top-heavy that he was going to tip over—except for the tree-trunk thighs bursting out of the black spandex shorts that did nothing at all to his the fact that he owned a shank of cock even larger than Cal’s. His skin was copper and clean of fur, and his head was topped with a shock of jet-black hair formed into a fauxhawk that set of his ice-blue eyes to perfection. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” the third man said. “I’m Mike Jeffries. Used to teach at North Valley.” “Let me guess; Home Ec.?” Mike laughed gently. Then he raised up his arms and bulged them into mind-blowing power. Billy watched the muscle swell like balloons until his 24-inch pythons looked ready to split through his paper-thin skin. “Phys. Ed.” Then Mike went into a most-muscular crab pose that would have made any contestant on the Mr. Olympia stage spontaneously cream his jeans. He straightened and brushed at his mammoth pecs as if polishing stone, and said, “I’ve been working out.” Billy didn’t know what Mike used to look like, but considering that he was already a physical education instructor it made sense that the man now looked nothing short of masculine muscular perfection on two very sturdy legs. If he wasn’t kidding and he really had been working out his new body, Billy had to start reconsidering his own lackluster regimen, because the man before him was the living embodiment of a muscle god. It didn’t hurt that his face was achingly handsome, and the forests of manly fur that coated his muscles were arranged in a similarly perfect fashion, as if he had designed that, too. He was all-man, all right, and had the equipment to prove it. Mike had ocean green eyes, full, sensuous lips, a model’s facial structure and he was wearing a baseball cap that only accentuated his manly, sportsmanlike aspect. “I’m very happy to meet you. I presume that Teddy has filled you in on the plan?” “Some of it,” Cal said, “but not all. And he missed some of the important parts.” “Such as?” Mike counted off his points on his fingers, “Legalities, budget, infrastructure, schedule?” Billy smiled sheepishly. “Yes, well, those are obviously important, but we’re at a very early stage here. I have the location. It’s far from perfect, but it’s far better than what I would’ve hoped. Legal questions are a bit touchy, obviously, given the ages of the boys and our...recent behavior. I take full responsibility for that, of course.” Teddy said, “Not full responsibility, surely. As I’m sure these gentlemen can attest, trying to keep certain, shall we say, carnal drives in check when gifted with so many natural assets would be difficult on its own. Coupled with their already raging hormones and the amplified level of testosterone, not to mention augmented libido and the physical properties that would allow unfettered and a nearly constant ability to satiate those drives...it’s a miracle the whole town didn’t start exploding with muscular young men. I credit Mr. Titus with that success.” “Such as it is,” Billy said. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but as of now—or, at least, as of yesterday—there were 257 known Muscle Club members, and who knows how many more men have come in contact with our little clique and left town to spread more cheer?” “It’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Cal said, grabbing his package meaningfully. “I’ve been rather enjoying myself, and the biological implications have this ex-biology teacher’s head spinning with possibilities. Perhaps this is the next step in our evolution. Perhaps it’s an anomaly. Either way, I know I’ve been having a very good time exploring the possibilities.” “As have we all,” Mike agreed. “Not our friend Mr. Titus, here,” Teddy added, laying his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “He has taken on the super-human task of denying himself access to the other young men in his tutelage.” Mike registered shock. “Just how the fuck is that possible? My dudes took me under their wing and fucked me silly. It’s been a non-stop orgy ever since!” “But I presume you are no longer a teacher at North?” “Of course not.” Then realization registered on his handsome face and he said, “You’re shitting me.” Billy smiled. “I shit you not.” Mike reached out to shake his hand again. “I didn’t think it was possible to hold back. I’ve felt like a non-stop fuck machine ever since I grew, and it’s only gotten stronger as my body has.” He looked at the others. “I thought maybe working out would relieve some of the, you know, pressure, but it only made it worse. Seems like the bigger I get—the stronger I get—I only get hornier and hornier. Thank god I had so many friends to relieve that pressure, or I might have exploded.” He looked Billy up and down and said, “I can’t fucking believe it!” “I have my relief valve,” he admitted. “But even that relationship is a dangerous one.” “So that’s why you want to….” “It is one reason, I’ll admit. A selfish one, for sure, but….” “Understood.” “There are many more. More important ones. Since I’ve remained at my post, I have been able—or forced—to observe what happens to these young men once they start to grow. Old friends turn on them. Family rejects them. Things happen to their bodies they cannot understand. It’s a bit of a struggle to reign in those...desires, of course. Which is why I’ve allowed such a lax set of rules within my classroom, and which is also why the school administration...well, you know the rest.” “Yes,” Teddy agreed. “So, you’re all in with me, then? You understand the sacrifices that I’m asking, and what it will mean for all of us—and them?” Nods of agreement. Billy took a deep breath and felt his heart soar with hope. “Then let’s get started.” • • • • Hank and Harry Johnson were identical twins, in almost every way. Even after having been exposed to the magic that the members of Muscle Club all shared, their bodies had grown and developed in identical ways, so much so that it was difficult for most people to tell one from the other. Texan teens, they looked more like Southern California surfers, with their deeply tanned skin and long flowing locks of golden blonde hair. With the exception that these particular surfers had been spending every waking moment they weren’t out on the waves inside a gym, where they had developed bodies of such incredible size and beauty that looking at them could produce instant erections on almost any man seeing them for the first time. It didn’t help matters that their usual uniform was a pair of very skimpy running shorts and nothing else at all, so that nearly every inch of their amazing and perfectly formed bodies was freely available to wantonly gawk at. The boys themselves seemed oblivious to the attention. Not that they weren’t particularly bright, more that they had a carefree attitude that was so open, generous and affable—if not downright affectionate—that they did not seem to fathom that people acted any differently with anyone else, regardless of their overwhelming physical beauty. Between the two of them, a natural competitiveness was also born, and it, too, had been amplified when Raul had taken them both by the hand and introduced them to his world. Now they roamed the world in a kind of good-natured haze, treating everyone and everything they encountered with the same sense of unreserved open-hearted friendliness. They simply loved everyone they met. And it helped that neither of them considered that leaving their ability to ‘tug’ on another man’s libido—sending out a subtle, tingling, very pleasurable throb of sexual desire and inescapable lust—constantly running was in any way wrong or inappropriate. After all, didn’t everyone like feeling good? And wasn’t it good that they could make other men feel good? Very, very, very good? They were jogging through the park, which was one of their favorite pastimes, as they discussed the up-coming ceremony. “This is going to be great!” “Right? Like, everyone together in the same place? And, like, naked?” “Right?” Their voices were indistinguishable as they jogged through the trees. Two six-and-a-half foot muscular teens wearing practically nothing at all, their muscles bouncing and flexing as they easily moved along the park paths. “I can’t wait!” It was in this very park that they had encountered one of their favorite teachers, Mr. St. Cloud, and “accidentally” invited him to join Muscle Club. And it was also one of their favorite ‘hunting grounds,’ where they were always on the lookout for more likely candidates. Because nothing felt as good—nothing felt as powerful and right and perfect—as changing a new member into another muscle-packed superman. Unless it was the inevitable round of mind-blowing sex that followed, of course. Nearly every morning the twins were out running, keeping their eyes out for new prospects. And as they ran, they were leaving thick trails of their masculine pheromones behind them, laced with the heady, uncompromisingly masculine scent that all Muscle Club members released like invitations to orgasmic bliss, and broadcasting constant pulses of the sexual tug radiating out like radar bands. They were fishermen, and their lures were nearly inescapable. It wasn’t hard to fall into their trap, and succumb to their charm and beauty. As they rounded a curve, emerging from the cover of trees and accompanied by the clarion call of their raging hormonal pheromones and the constant throbbing tug of their innate capability to turn any man into a potent horndog intent on one thing only, they spied their target at the same time. “Wow,” Hank said, his Texan twang coming in strong. “You can say that again.” “Let’s play!” “Let’s,” Harry agreed. Samuel Hanover was a dark-skinned brute of a man. Already well-muscled and broad with brawn, he was leaned over and stretching out his hamstrings when the twins spied him. An African-American man of impressive size and beauty, he was shirtless on this early summer morning, and his chocolate skin was slick and wet with sweat. “Hey!” Hank called. “What’s up?” Harry added. They jogged over to him and he turned, straightened, and let his jaw drop open in sheer shock. The twins slowed to a stop a few feet from him, standing side by side in all their uniform splendor. “Good morning,” they said at the same time. “What the fuck?” Then he seemed to realize what he had said, and he apologized. “Sorry about that but...I mean...the fuck?” Both twins grinned, and Hank said, “No worries, we get that a lot. I’m Hank, and this is Harry.” “We’re twins.” “I think he got that right away, Sherlock.” “Well, maybe he thought he was seeing things.” In fact, Sam was thinking that, but it wasn’t the fact that the two men before him looked so identical. It was the fact that they looked so identically developed, muscular, beautiful and amazing. “Sam,” he said. He was feeling a distinct buzzing in his body, and he felt as if the immediate area was suddenly growing warmer. “You jog here a lot? Funny, cause I think we’d remember someone like you.” “I just moved into town. Taking a teaching job in the fall. Over at North Valley.” He wiped his brow. It really was getting hotter. “We go to West Valley, but we have some friends at North.” Hank asked, “What’ll you be teaching?” “Physical Education,” he answered. He adjusted himself without thinking. His cock was starting to feel quite heavy and bothersome all the sudden. Hank looked at his brother and said, “Should’ve guessed.” “You’re in high school?” Sam was incredulous. No one that big, with that much muscle packed on a body that perfectly developed could possibly be that young. It took years to develop that much meat, and he should know. An ex-bodybuilder himself, he’d transformed his own body over the course of many years before retiring because he was unwilling to use enhancements on his body. He allowed his gaze to look at the unbelievable development on each of the young bodies on parade before him, admiring the size, shape and perfect definition packed on every inch of these bronzed blonde teens. A sudden, unexpected throb hit his prick, and he swallowed drily. “Graduating later today, as a matter of fact,” Hank said proudly. “Eighteen?” “Yes,” Harry confirmed. “You look surprised.” “I am. I mean, you guys must spend every day working out.” He sucked in a deep breath. Sweat trickled down his spine and crept between his butt cheeks. “Not every day,” Hank admitted. “But we do get a lot of exercise.” “Oh, yes, we’re both very physical.” The brothers looked at each other as if sharing some inside joke. When they looked back, Harry’s eyes scanned Sam’s body up and down as Hank said, “How old are you?” Sam thought it an odd sort of question, but he answered, “36,” somewhat proudly. “Wow, did you hear that? Sam’s twice our age.” “He still looks really good, though.” “Um, thanks?” Now he was very hot. His heart was racing, and his cock was throbbing. “I think I should be getting on.” “Do you mind if we jog with you for a while?” Hank’s hand was crawling down his well-muscled torso. Sam followed its course until the teenager hooked a thumb into the waistband of his running shorts, pulling them down slightly. His eyes grew round at the realization that Hank’s prick was huge, and pushing insistently against its thin cloth cage. “Would that be all right?” Harry was cupping his crotch, and the head of his own massive shank was easy to make out. “I guess...so.” The familiar trickle of pre-cum surged along his quickly thickening cock, and his balls tingled happily. “Cool,” Harry said, smiling. “I think this is the start of a really good friendship, wouldn’t you say, Hank?” “Oh, definitely.” Sam’s brow wrinkled slightly, but he watched the two young men start along the path again—in particular, he watched their bulbous, meaty asses bounce and sway as they jogged—and found himself amazed and turned on in equal measure by the beauty of these twin boys and their amazing bodies. “Did you know Mike?” “Mike?” Sam repeated. “Mr. Jeffries? He used to teach at North.” “You knew Mr. Jeffries?” “Intimately,” Harry said. “We’re very close friends with Mike.” “I guess there were some problems with students? Something about his performance?” “Problems? Do you think Mr. Jeffries has problems with students, Hank?” “I have never heard any complaints from anyone about Mr. Jeffries. On the contrary, I believe that everyone is extremely happy with his performance. And speaking from experience, I can say that if there’s one thing no one can ever complain about in reference to Mike, it’s his performance.” “I was told he left town.” Sam’s cock was now rock hard, and rubbing against his shorts quite distractingly. “Evidently there were complaints.” “I have no complaints, but then he wasn’t my teacher.” “Well, to be fair, Henry, I don’t think you can say that with 100% honesty. I think Mike taught you a thing or two.” “Well, yes, but not as a teacher—I mean, not in school, that is,” Hank clarified. “Well, no, not in school.” “I don’t mean to pry, but the administration has been very coy about what, in particular, Mr. Jeffries did to be dismissed so abruptly.” “What he did?” Sam tried to adjust himself on the sly, but touching his hard-on only made things worse. “Yes, what prompted the school to ask for his resignation.” “Oh, that. Well, it wasn’t really his fault.” “Of course not! No one blames Mr. Jeffries for what happened.” “I probably shouldn’t even be asking these questions,” Sam admitted. His whole body was coated in sweat. His heart was racing. His balls were on fire. “We could show you, if you like,” Hank said. “Oh, yes, we could do that,” Henry agreed. “If you’re really curious.” Sam glanced over his shoulder at the two young men following him. Did they look bigger? Were they more muscular than he remembered only moments before? And were those small shorts they wore even smaller? He could see each of the twins’ massive pricks wagging and rubbing up against the Nylon, inches long and fat as sausages. “I...I don’t want to get anyone into any more trouble.” “I don’t think that’s a worry,” Hank said, smiling brightly. “Nope, I think at this point everyone concerned is pretty happy with how things turned out, all things considered.” Sam slowed and felt the tremendous heat of the two massively muscled bodies approach him. He didn’t turn around, though. His hard-on was as massive as everything else. “Maybe I should go on by myself.” Hank circled around in front of him, while Henry stayed at his rear. “Why, Sam? Aren’t you feeling all right?” Hank glanced down at Sam’s insistent boner, tenting his shorts. “Is that what you’re worried about?” Sam swallowed hard. “Sometimes that happens when we’re exercising, too,” Hank added. “Henry, Sam is feeling a bit embarrassed because he has a hard-on. Why don’t you come around here and show him that he has nothing to be embarrassed about.” “A hard-on?” Henry moved to stand beside his twin. He was holding his running shorts in his left hand. In his right hand, he was holding the biggest, fattest, hardest cock that Sam had ever seen. Henry’s prick—looking to be at least a foot high—was red and glossy and clearly as hard as a rock. He was slowly stroking himself, and a steady flow of clear honey was emerging from its mouth and draining along the thick, long shaft, lubing his grip and making a slick, wet sound. “Why are you worried about a little thing like that?” He smiled glancing at the tent in Sam’s shorts, and added, “Not that it’s little by any means.” Nearly unable to take his eyes off the majestic sight, he was nonetheless distracted by movement and he looked over to watch the other twin’s prick inflate in record time, growing so large so quickly that it was almost comical. And when had Hank removed his shorts? Now the two matching sets of muscular, tanned, blonde-haired gods stood entirely naked before him, with massive erections steadily leaking copious flows of warm, clear honey that scented the very air around him with sex. Their bodies seemed to magnify, growing more solid and more clearly defined, as if their muscles were slowly swelling outward all at once, pushing against their smooth, flawless skin as they inflated with power. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Sam. Nothing at all.” He raised his gaze from their monsters and looked at their faces. Were they even more handsome now? Had their countenances changed along with their bodies? How was any of this possible? Was he dreaming? A dark stain colored his running gear as he spontaneously came, releasing a heavy, uncontrollable flood of warm cum into his crotch. “That’s nice of you,” Hank said. “Yeah, that’s quite a compliment.” “Perhaps we should return the favor?” “That’s a great idea, Hank.” The two young men pointed their massive cocks towards the high school Phys. Ed. teacher and suddenly twin sprays of thick, sticky cream were splattering against Sam’s body as if the teens were holding hoses and had opened up the nozzles. An impossible amount of cum was spraying from each cock and it struck Sam with force and heat and a sudden, overwhelming sense of power. He gasped. He came again. And then he was growing. • • • • Mr. Titus was wearing a suit. No one else in the auditorium wore anything at all. He stood behind the podium and looked at the gathering of naked, perfect men before him. They were all looking back at him, with smiles on their achingly handsome faces and nothing but prime, beautiful muscle as far as the eye could see. He’d just handed out the final diploma and watched the last of his graduate take his seat with his friends. There were grins and kissed and back slaps aplenty—even a few cock strokes—as they congratulated each other. “Gentlemen. I present to you the graduating class of…” “The graduating class of Muscle Club!” someone shouted, and a deep, thrilling roar went up as each of these powerful, super-human young men raised their voice in pride and triumph, glorying in the brotherhood of muscle they had formed. Some stood from their chairs and raised their arms, plumping their masses of brawn into full power. Others grabbed or stroked their cocks as a sign of superiority. Some kissed or embraced. It was a sudden explosion of testosterone and hubris, a celebration of what and who they were, and an unashamed display of their sense of achievement. Billy smiled brightly and nodded before trying to bring some order back to the proceedings. The mass of male perfection slowly quieted again and resumed their seats, and Billy acknowledged their declaration of independence. “The graduating class of Muscle Club.” Another shout went up. More awesome displays of muscular grandeur and sexual capacity erupted. Billy felt his own massive cock stirring and wanting free, but he did his usual best to suppress it and merely allowed the celebratory display of virility and arousal to cool on its own. These weren’t boys before him, these were men. Their bodies showed that with ample evidence. Some of them were barely 18, but looking from one to the next of the faces of Muscle Club’s growing membership—both in number and in physical size—it was evident to their teacher that these were men, with manly strengths and desires, and a strongly masculine need to satisfy them. It was obvious how they had all been changed externally by whatever was happening to them, but the internal changes were less so. Only when he was alone with them, with each man in Muscle Club, did he realize how changed they were. Along with their swelling muscles and growing beauty, they were maturing in ways he could not have imagined. They were truly behaving like a family, now, watching out for each other, supporting each other and, yes, even loving each other. So many of them had been rejected by their own family and friends, now. Prejudice, certainly, and maybe even fear. Fear of their growing bodies and growing power and growing sexuality. Fear of their fearlessness. Fear of the size of their muscles and bodies, fear of their outsized libidos and egos, fear of their strength and power. It was so sad, really. Because there was nothing to fear from these men at all. The cheers died down to a quiet roar and Billy held up his hands for silence, eliciting a few catcalls when his arms started ripping through his clothing. Would he ever stop growing bigger? He sincerely hoped not. “Gentlemen,” he said, “before we get on with today’s celebrations, and what I’m sure will be a party the likes of which this school—this town—has never seen, I have a couple of important announcements to make concerning your...our futures.” A soft, deep murmuring rose at his words. “I know...I know some of you have had your suspicions, but I have not been able to report this news until today. Until now. “We have dreamed of a place for us, together. A place where we will be free to live as we know we must. A place where we are free to be ourselves, and not ashamed.” “Who’s ashamed?” It was Raul, naked and glorious—and did he look even more beautiful than yesterday? A tremendous roar accompanied his question. The feral roar of power. “You’re right of course, Mr. Garza. Shame is not something that comes naturally to you, but for some of us, shame is what we are expected to feel. Shameful of our very emotions and desires, and shameful about how we act and look. Shameful of our actions and reactions. Shameful of simply existing.” A hush fell, and some of the young men looked down at the floor, while others were looking from face to face, and some of them nodding in agreement. “It is...difficult for others to understand what this means.” Billy gestured at his own hugely developed frame, running his hand down the thickly muscled contours, so easily discerned even under his suit of clothes. “What it means to be...us.” It was silent now. Completely silent. “On this day, we are all graduating. Today, we are all moving forward, and moving out.” More murmurs. “We have found a place for us. For any of you who wish to join us. As of today—now—we are no longer Muscle Club.” The sound was now one of confusion, also refusal, but Billy expected that. “We are more than a Club. More than a school. We continue to grow, to become more than we are, and to invite others to join us. So we need a new name, and a new goal, and a new place.” He paused, and five other men, also wearing tight-fitting suits—some, ludicrously so, looking as if the seams would burst and reveal their incredibly-developed muscular frames in seconds—walked out onto the stage, arranging themselves in pairs on either side of the podium. These men, looking no older than Billy himself, or indeed than any of the dozens of naked teen muscle gods in the audience, stood with their hands clasped before them and their handsome faces looking out toward the gathered members of Muscle Club with smiles. “Perhaps some of you recognize these men here with me on stage.” He gestured to each man as he announced their names. “Theodore St. George, formerly a teacher here of art history and English. Michael Jeffries, formerly a teacher of Physical Education at a neighboring High School. Calvin McCloud, formerly a teacher of biology and earth sciences here. Stephen O’Malley, formerly a teacher of music and mathematics. And finally Samuel Hanover, one of the newest members of our happy and unusual family, thanks to Harry and Hank.” After each man bowed his head slightly, Billy cleared his throat. “Gentlemen,” Billy said, drawing the attention to be focused on his face again, “today we announce the birth of our new home. A place for us to gather together, live together, and build something of our own that no one can push us out of or refuse us entry. Today, gentlemen, is the first day. “Today I invite you to live in Muscle City.” On cue, the five men standing around him lifted their arms in unison and tensed their collections of awesome, uncompromising brawn to full bloom. Instantly, their clothing was torn to shreds, practically exploding from their bodies, revealing the promise of what they had been hiding in naked glorious perfection. Then they grabbed onto Billy’s suit and ripped it from his body, tearing apart the wool and cotton as if it were paper, uncovering the body that only one other man had seen to this day, as Billy Titus joined his pupils in a silent vow never to hide who and what he was any longer. The six men stood proudly amongst the tattered and torn remnants of their old life and folded their massive arms across their bulging chests, beaming with smiles that displayed their unashamed masculine perfection. Immediately, the crowd exploded in shouts and cheers and wild applause. “If I may…” Billy began, but the noise of the spontaneous applause was overwhelming. The members of Muscle Club were out of their seats, hugging, kissing, fist-pumping and throwing their own bodies into awesome displays of their massive muscular development. “Gentlemen,” Billy said again, but the cheers and clapping and muscular displays continued. Billy looked at his fellow teachers and shrugged, and they threw their arms across each others’ shoulders and watched the mayhem continue for some minutes until the crowd began to settle again, and some voices raised questions that they hurled toward the stage. “Where is it?” “When do we leave?” “How did you do it?” Billy gestured for calm and finally received it, but most of the audience remained standing, now, fully pumped on excitement and surprise and unable to calm their overeager bodies. Just the idea of Muscle City was causing the men to spring erections, as if voting with their cocks. “As you know, the economic downturn has had a debilitating effect on several nearby towns, causing some to be thrown into complete disarray and bankruptcy. Some weeks ago, a friend and I start…” “Carl!” Several deep voices shouted, and a glance at the big blonde’s face showed him coloring a deep red with embarrassment and pride. “A friend,” Billy said, loudly, “and I began to investigate the possibility of taking over one of these places, one that has been mostly abandoned as its factories closed and its population left for greener pastures. As we know, many of the commonplace necessities of daily life are no longer absolute necessities for us. Our bodies and our fellowship can now provide for most basic needs, but we are still left living in an unfriendly environment that neither understands or desires our continued citizenship. “We therefore concluded that what would best benefit us and all our friends would be a place separated from our former lives, a place where we can explore our new capabilities, our new relationships, and our new lives.” “Fuckin’ A!” someone shouted. “Fuckin’ A, indeed,” Billy agreed. And then there was more yelling and applause and alpha displays of massive muscular development. The men on stage were covering their mouths as they laughed, or trying to feign some kind of adult control even though their own hearts were racing and they could practically taste the testosterone leaking into the room. “And I am happy and proud to announce today that we have found that home, and it is awaiting our arrival.” Cheers, again. Sustained and loud. The walls were shaking and the roof quaked. The sheer power contained in the gathered men was enough to create havoc inside the building. Billy called for quiet again, and said, “Let me be clear, this will not be an easy change. We are not going to a Garden of Eden. The town I speak of will need lots of work to make livable spaces, and many of its services, resources and facilities have fallen into disrepair, if not downright failure. “I must also hasten to add that a great many of you will need your parents’ permission. There are still laws to consider if we are to avoid undo interference and observation, and starting off on the wrong foot would put all of us, and this endeavor, in peril.” Already, there were protests, but Billy said, “I realize that many of you have been turned out already by your families. I know that many of you are—or were—living in the classroom or even at the outdoors gathering place, because you’ve had nowhere else to go. Many of you are already living together, squatting in abandoned properties or living with your friends with more understanding and loving families. In short, you have already received a kind of tacit permission to move out, but you will still need to inform your families of your intentions before joining us. “For those remaining behind, and I know there are more than a few of you who will be unwilling at this point to abandon everything you know and move to another city, even one as I have described, you should know that I have given my notice and informed the school that I do not intend to return. Whomever your teacher is in September, they may be unwilling to be as...lenient as I have been concerning certain rules regarding clothing requirements and sexual conduct in the classroom.” A few of the younger members in the audience groaned audibly. “I wish that I could be in two places at one time, but I’m afraid the situation has become untenable. Restrictions will be enforced upon you—upon all of us—in the coming year whether we like it or not. I know this makes it harder on you than ever, but it is what it is.” The general mood shifted at his words, But then he smiled, and he said, “But Muscle City is ours, gentlemen. It is all ours, and we may do with it everything we can dream of.” Then he lifted his own arms up into a double-bi that would make the gods weep with envy, building his colossal pectoral mounds into thick mountains of raw power, and making his body swell outward as he released the bounds he had placed on it and began to swell into his ultimate, glorious, unfettered size and magnitude. His hyper-masculine scent was being released in thick clouds. His muscles bulged against his skin with their utter capacity and facility. His cock was a massive thing of beauty and dominion, drooping forward over his cum-pumping balls with every thick inch of its impossible extents. Male power and sexual energy saturated his voice. “Muscle City—and freedom—awaits us, gentlemen.” Part 1 They left their old homes the following day. It was an easy decision for most of the young men, and for those who were unsure or needed permission to abandon their old lives but were unable to get it for now, they knew that there would be a place for them no matter how long they waited to join their companions. The young men of Muscle Club left their homes in the early morning hours, shortly after dawn. Billy judged it would be best to cause as little commotion as possible, and because he knew that once the brotherhood was fully assembled it would difficult if not impossible to keep them from becoming exceptionally overt with their passions. As a rule, the boys and young men had become very comfortable showing affection towards each other, though they were cautious in most cases with some rather overconfident exceptions in the same mold as Raul’s constant nudity. But the heat that they generated - both physical and sexual - when you gathered a lot of them together was too strong to easily overcome. One by one, and two by two, they moved through their old city towards the civic center, where they would gather and start their procession towards their new home. Most wore some kind of covering, even if it was only the tiniest pair of shirts or a “banana hammock” that cradled their massive cock meat. Some elected to finally give up clothing altogether as a showing of their independence. Seeing them all together in the open air, standing tall and proud and nearly naked, Billy felt a justifiable pride and love for them all. They believed in him, and they trusted him, and he could’t let them down. When it seemed that no others would be arriving, Billy went to the head of the group and they walked out of town in the strangest parade that anyone had ever seen. Nearly 200 men, semi- or entirely naked and unashamed, like a procession of the finalists in some superhero look-alike contest who had all forgotten their costumes, walking hand in hand or arms hanging across their companions broad shoulders, all with bright smiles on their handsome faces as they bid adieu to their old lives without a look back. Muscle City was several dozen miles away, and they would be walking the entire distance. They avoided the roads and highways, taking a straight-line approach that had them moving across farms and fields, over hills and across streams, through tall, dry grass and among curious horses and incurious cows beneath the bright summer sun, their perfect male bodies soaking in the heat and glistening from sweat like metal-skinned gods. A thick cloud of their combined earthy pheromonal funk surrounded them, scenting the warm winds with a heavy perfume of their powerfully masculine scent, and dozens at a time would fall away from the larger group to engage in some fun with each other as they travelled toward their new home, unable or unwilling to wait before they could enjoy the many physical and sexual gifts their bodies could bestow on one another. They were kissing and embracing and sending up whoops of sheer joy at their new freedom. A giddiness accompanied their realization of what they were doing, and what they had done, and what they imagined lay in store for them. No more hiding or shame. No more denying of their desires and powers. No more pretending to be who they no longer were, and the liberation of their bodies and their impulses - finally unburdened from the rules that the old world had tried to chain them with. Billy was smiling the whole way. His heart felt like it was going to swell out of his chest and spill love all over every last one of these young men. It seemed impossible that this was actually happening, that they were all with him, giving this project their complete acceptance and showing that their confidence in him was absolute. He was worried about what would happen along the way, and what would happen when they finally reached their destination, but he was just as confident that these young men would persevere. He did not lay too many rules on them about the place they were going. They had been saddled with so many rules already, and all of those rules had to do with the comfort and fear of others, and not the well-being of these young men at all. He’d taught them well when they were all in his classroom, and he had observed those teachings made manifest in their everyday lives. ‘Help those who need help.’ ‘Treat each other with respect and love.’ ‘Believe in yourselves.’ And, as always, the golden rule overall: Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. Basic rules that would color every decision they’d need to make. The camaraderie and competition among the young men was apparent even as they left the town they had called home. Everyone wanted to bring some part of their old life along, whether that was a laptop with all their social connections on it, or a box of books, or the baseball mitt that no longer easily fit their larger hand, but which remained a comfortable reminder of things that used to be and might be again. Some of them wanted to bring everything even knowing that was impractical, and others left with nothing - literally nothing - at all, not even a stitch of clothing. “Let me carry that,” one dude would say to another, as if he was somehow stronger than his brother. Others were comparing whatever they’d decided to bring with someone else’s choice, debating the relative merits of each item. Others were simply overjoyed at the prospect of living somewhere together where they’d never have to hide anything again. And Billy wondered whether that was possible, and what the fates had in store for them. “This place is a fucking dump!” “No one said this was going to be easy.” “No one said we were moving to a fucking dump, either!” The staggering collection of naked men stood at the edge of an abandoned town. To a man, they were incredibly well-developed with outsized muscle packed on their oversized frames. They stood together very closely, often rubbing warm skin against warm skin and even groping each other, unashamed of such overt and open shows of affection and love for each other. Some were sporting impressive erections, as if demonstrating with their cocks the excitement they felt inside - or, more likely, simply giving in to the constant state of arousal that pumped through their bodies and free, at last, to do so without embarrassment or fear. None looked older than their mid-twenties, and their assemblage was a kaleidoscope of racial differences, with skin tones ranging from alabaster to dark chocolate, hair both straight and curly, eyes of blue and green and grey and brown, and bodies as smooth as a baby’s butt to bearish figures coated in curling forests of dark manly fur. There were, by number, 178 men arranged in the street leading into Muscle City. More would be coming later, swelling the population to nearly 250 men. They stood in the summer sun under a clear blue sky, and not a one of them, by this time, was wearing a single stitch of clothing. Anything that some of them had been wearing initially had long since been abandoned, and to a man they now stood in pure naked perfection, each the very model of masculine beauty. Some were holding hands, others had their thickly-muscled arms hanging across each others’ shoulders. Some stood silent and alone, gazing up the deserted street leading into the new home than only a handful had seen to this moment. It was, in fact, a fucking dump. Largely abandoned for a number of months, the city - more of a town, really - had suffered at the hands of the on-going economic mess that the entire country had been experiencing, though it had hit hardest here because it had been going on far longer and for different reasons. The latest calamity had only sealed its fate. “It’s not much to look at,” Billy admitted, turning around at the head of the contingent and raising his voice for all to hear, “but it is ours. No one can tell us here what we can or cannot do. No one can force us to restrain ourselves, or fit in, or abide by rules we do not make for ourselves.” He raised his muscular arms above his head, and announced, “This is our home, gentlemen! This is Muscle City!” A cheer went up, and the men kissed and embraced each other in sheer joy. “I still say it’s a fucking dump.” Billy laughed despite himself. “Then let’s make it into something better!” He lowered his hands and gazed on all the handsome faces looking back at him hopefully. He could see disappointment in some of those faces, and he understood that. He could see worry and fear in others, which looked odd to be pasted on bodies so overwhelmingly powerful and graced with such uncommon masculine beauty. On others, he could see unvarnished happiness and wonder. His lover, Carl, stood next to him, towering over his smaller form, and the five other ‘adults’ he had brought with him were arranged nearby as leaders for this most unusual and unconventional parade. “I know this may not be what some of you were expecting. I know others of you may be reconsidering your devotion to this project. Some of you can’t wait to get started. There are...a lot of unknowns going into this, but we’re together, and we’re free, and, c’mon, we’re fucking naked! What’s not to like about that?” Smiles, then. Smiles and nods and laughter. “Dudes,” Carl said, his deep voice powerful and rich, “think about where we are right now and what’s going to happen.” He gestured behind him with his arm and said, “This is ours. All ours, and no one else’s. We can make it anything we want to, and we start now.” He then turned and walked into Muscle City, followed by Billy and Sam and Mike and Teddy and Calvin and Steve. Then the co-presidents of the old Muscle Club, Derek and Scott followed them up the broken asphalt road, followed in short order by Raul and Brian and Hank and Henry and all the oldest members of the Club. They were walking into a town made up of houses and storefronts and buildings that used to hold families that had gone in search of something better. They were all looking for the same thing, hoping to find it here where they would be left alone and to become whatever it was they were growing into. A sense of expectation and ambition began to swell in the young men walking forward into the abandoned town. And, above all, a feeling of liberation and freedom, carefree in its possibilities. The first days proved to be a wake-up call to all the men, young and old, taking up residence in the small town. Real duties and responsibilities were assigned, because to make the place safe and habitable meant figuring out how to make things run, and how to turn on lights and re-establish running water and bring life back to a dead place. A sense of what life would be like in this place that had no others around to judge them or place rules on their activities and desires became quite obvious on the first evening within the streets of Muscle City. The town was quiet, without electricity to power appliances or air conditioners or TV sets, and the air grew warm and sultry. As the sky darkened and the men gathered back together after a day of exploration and discovery, each huge body slick with sweat and coated in dust and dirt and grease, they fell together out of necessity and longing, drunken on a sense of their utter freedom and overwhelmed by the sheer number of beautiful, muscular men in one place with only one thing on their minds. To say an orgy broke out cannot adequately describe the sexual heat that finally exploded on the streets of Muscle City. No one held back at all, because there was no longer any need. Any desire, any wish, any longing or craving or hunger that any man felt for any other man could and would be satiated, for longer and deeper and more fully than any of them had ever imagined. The realization that this was real, that this was happening, and that no one would appear to stop them slowly spread through the throng of hyper-sexual and superhuman men like a slow-moving slick of oil that coated their naked bodies with its warm, wet comprehension. They could fuck each other openly, here, on the street. Or in the buildings. Or anywhere they wanted to. They could kiss and stroke and love each other with abandon and without fear of discovery or judgment. They could finally, finally allow themselves to fully experience each other, love each other, fuck each other, and utterly surrender to the overwhelming sense of perfect masculine power and never come up for air. Their bodies would not only allow such action, but craved it. More muscle, more sex, more power, like glowing conduits that ran through the assembled mass of naked muscle and pumped up their lust to unheard of levels. Cocks plumping into massive limbs and plugging into asses and mouths, shooting fat ropes of cream in unending supply. Lips kissing lips, mouths sucking nipples, tongues lapping at assholes, hands groping and stroking and caressing and everywhere long, luxurious groans of absolute pleasure filling up the dark streets with the unmistakable sounds of men being with other men and falling into a state of perfect sexual bliss. Grunts and shouts and howls of pleasure that rose in a crescendo of mind-blowing sex. It lasted all night, all through the hot, dark, sweaty hours under the stars and moon until the sky turned pink again and the men welcomed a new day, their bodies having absorbed the gallons of unending cream that their balls could produce. And they were all bigger than ever. Billy was initially reticent to jump into the bulging, sweat-slick, cum-sticky mass of muscle. He had held himself back so long that he had some trouble overcoming the chains he had placed on his own libido and desires. It was Carl who took him by the hand and cast him into the mass, introducing him as “my boyfriend, Billy, so be gentle.” But gentleness was the last thing on anyone’s mind, including Billy’s once he let his engines rev and uncaged the lion inside him. He let his brain go and allowed his body to take over, and he took to the rampant, unbridled, overwhelming sex like a fish to water, diving in face-first and nearly drowning from the attention his attendance received. Then he started to change. “Well, fuck,” someone growled in satisfaction, “that was fun.” Billy opened his eyes. To say that he felt amazing would only slightly touch the sensations of power and well-being coursing through every cell of his body. After years - literal years - of not engaging with any of the other dozens of young men turning into muscle gods all around him, he had spent the first night being waited on and worshipped with an almost religious reverence by anyone who could get close to him. Mr. Titus had grown into a legend among his students. The man they couldn’t have. They knew he and Carl were together, but no one else could even touch him. Somehow, miraculously, he had managed to survive months and months among them all, watching them all grow and explode with muscle and sex and stay apart. Now he was there, with them all, and they all wanted to be with him. There was no mirror for him to know how much he had changed after only a single night among his proteges and pupils. But he had changed in a serious way. Several dozen pounds of new, fresh, raw muscle bulged from his taller, wider frame. His body absorbed and accepted and thirsted for this, and now it was changing dramatically, fed by so many powerful men and their powerful creamy jets of transforming essence. He was tangled in the thickly-muscled limbs of several other men. Raising his head and looking around himself, there was nothing but skin and muscle as far as he could see. Some men still kissed, slow passionate embraces that lingered in the dawn light. Some were already stroking themselves again, their cocks insatiable and sustained by a need for attention. Groans of wakening and satisfaction rose like an earthquake in the city square. Lifting off the muscular arms and legs arrayed about him, he stood slowly up and surveyed the landscape of nude muscleteens all in repose after the most massive muscular orgy that he was sure the world had ever seen. He had enjoyed an unending succession of lovers, each as energetic and passionate as the last, who wanted nothing more than to give him pleasure and offer him all that they had to give. Anyone roused enough to watch the man stand up was awestruck. Who was this colossal being? This beautiful creature? This ultimate manifestation of masculine perfection? Raul Garza would have a new contender for Most Beautiful Man, and Brian Chan would be hard-pressed to swell his collection of brawn into larger dimensions than the colossus of power standing among them. Billy Titus was like a butterfly emerging from his chrysalis, or a flower blooming after a winter’s nap, or the sun rising. Billy Titus had changed dramatically, now personifying the vision of man that had been asleep inside him for all these months. As he stretched his newly-grown body, muscle blossomed along his limbs in fat, broad cables of beautiful perfection. His chest swelled magnificently. His cock swelled forward into a tool of massive, obvious capacity that everyone would want to suck on and feel its weight and thickness pushing inside them, delivering the man’s powerful seed in fat, thrusting jets of hot wetness. And his face…. Handsome masculine perfection. A heavy grow, a strong chin, a noble nose, piercing blue eyes, jet black hair, and all arranged in a visage of perfect male beauty more powerful than anyone had ever seen. He could not observe his own changes directly, but he could feel them and sense them looking down at himself. Tremendous thick bands of fresh muscle swelled out from his massive chest. His shoulders were now so large that they loomed in his peripheral vision. Looking down at his arms, they were packed and overwhelmed with fat bulges of vascular brawn, like footballs mounted on his upper arms that twitched and flexed with the slightest movement. His entire body felt as though it was fairly bursting with power. He seemed to be gently and insistently pulsing with strength, as if there was too much for his muscles to harness and hold, and that it would explode from him at any moment in a detonation of masculine power so huge that anyone within ten miles would instantly find their own cocks swelling to full power and pumping out gallons of hot, thick cream, overcome by this man’s intense beauty and strength even though they were nowhere nearby. After a sigh and a look around, he clapped his hands to rally the troops. “Rise and shine, gentlemen,” he said loudly. “I trust you all had an entertaining first night.” There were calls of agreement and grunts of approval and even a few exploding fountains of rich creamy cum in response, shooting in high, powerful arcs and splattering down on the naked flesh. “Because now we get to work!” Groans, again, but this time the more familiar groans of disappointment and chagrin. Billy smiled, recognizing those groans quite intimately from his school room, both before and after he’d been changed into the giant he was today. “Now, now, gentlemen. A little hard work never hurt anyone. Besides, we need to do something with all that pent-up energy you’ve no doubt absorbed from your fellow citizens.” Carl stood up, and looked both shocked and lustful towards his lover. Billy was still Billy, but now he was a colossus, a god, the naked perfect epitome of the male form. Overwhelmed with muscle, but all of it developed and arranged in a perfection of form that was nearly unbelievable were he not standing right next to the man. Everything about his lover made him hunger for him. His ass was a work of perfect beauty. His wide back flared widely from his narrow waist and was overwhelmed with bulges and hard contours, flexing and swelling as he moved. His shoulders were a mile wide, meeting at high, hard deltoids that buttressed a neck of muscular grandeur. When Bill turned to look at him, he gasped audibly and nearly exploded with cream. Then he was clapping his hands, and said, “Get your lazy asses the fuck up! Even if you don’t care about the living conditions here, how are we ever going to persuade anyone else to join us if we all live in a pigsty!” “Anyone else?” “Who else?” Carl said, “You don’t think news of a place like this is going to stay secret for long, do you? And when Johnny Muscleslut shows up on your doorstep, you want a fucking doorstep to fuck him on, don’t you?” Slow moans and groans of reticent agreement sounded across the square. “Well then get your lazy, beautiful asses off the fucking street and let’s get this place in order! With this much muscle doing the job,” he said, illustrating his words by pumping his own amazing collection of bulging brawn into dick-hardening glory, “we’ll get this shit knocked out in no time!” Billy grinned at his lover. Nothing could energize a Muscle Club member more than the promise of fresh meat, and he had no doubt that Carl was right - there would be more men coming here. It was only a matter of time. It was not an easy task, to be sure, but much of the so-called “heavy lifting” proved to be not so heavy for men gifted with the level of muscular strength and development that each of these men possessed. Plus, an unexpected benefit and by-product of all the physical labor was a sudden and very strong renewal in the young men’s muscular and physical development. Muscle began to bloom as if it were being inflated after they started using their bodies for something besides sex. They were practically exploding with new growth, and it only drove them to work harder after they realized what was happening to them. Strength multiplied, size amplified, and everything just got bigger and bigger. Billy helped to rebuild, but a larger and more important task was to be a father figure of sorts, and act as both mentor and authority figure. It was, of course, too easy to be distracted by your fellow workers and forget your current assignment when a hand fell too easily onto your cock and lips were pressed to yours. The heat of the days was intense, and it drove the heat of passion higher as well. Billy was rather lenient at first when he came upon a set of workers spending their time with each other rather than at the task at hand. This was, after all, the chief benefit of establishing Muscle City in the first place. To have a place where such open displays of affection and passion and fucking were accepted, commonplace and even nurtured. These men owned libidos in overdrive and had so much energy that it was nearly impossible to stop them from doing what came naturally. Two of them would be in a room, opening up the doorways to allow their larger bulks to more easily move about the buildings, or doubling the size of a room by demolishing the second floor to open up enough headroom for an 8-foot-tall man to fit inside. And all that physical exertion and the sense of power that came from literally tearing a wall apart with your bare hands was naturally going to lead to some sudden and not unexpected sexual need. They were all alphas, in a sense, and all testing their strength and position, and all wanting to show off what they could do, and how often they could do it - and how good they were doing it. Now that they were in this environment of free sex and love, they began to learn from each other and grow into even more accomplished lovers, open with their needs and fantasies and desires, and capable of fulfilling them all at any time. So Billy had to become a taskmaster, and gently remind them that there were still jobs to complete if they were going to build a city they could be proud of - a city as beautiful and perfect as they themselves were. “Gentlemen,” he would say, because that still managed to summon their attention, “after you’re done with each other, I do hope you’ll spend an equal amount of energy and determination on finishing your jobs. It would not do to have no roofs over our heads when winter rains arrive, would it?” “No, sir,” they would answer breathlessly between kisses or gropes or blow jobs. “Excellent,” he would praise. And then he would move on to the next room, and its pre-occupied occupants having their way with each other. He did note a tendency for the men to pair themselves off, which made him wonder whether that was something humans did naturally, or if it was a cultural legacy that they would abandon at some point - though he had absolutely no desire to abandon Carl for the arms of someone else at night. Still, he smiled when he considered the..flavor of the connections he saw forming. Although there were definite pairs of men, their relationships were very open to invitations to and from others into their intimacies, and there were no jealous or possessive tendencies he could note. It seemed, at least in these first days, that they had discovered a kind of sexual and emotional nirvana. The men - all of them - were enjoying very open, very loving, very giving relationships with each other, and never once had any of them come to blows or even a shouting match over the preferred partner of one over the other. On the third day, they were joined by a large contingent from the other schools, and these new citizens were given very warm and hospitable greetings. It slowed things down considerably that day as the new members of their cult of muscle and sex made their way through the existing residents and received a copious and athletic reception from everyone they met, but in the scope of things that was a good thing. They were now a small town of nearly 300 men, and more would be coming soon. Things were moving along slowly, but steadily, and all things considered Billy thought that he had made an excellent decision to move Muscle Club to these environs. And with each passing day, they were all growing larger and stronger and more beautiful. Part 2 On day four, something odd did occur. Billy was making the usual rounds, prodding a few of the residents to get back to work and joining in with a few others as they participated in a little R&R before smashing another wall down, when a shout went up from the northern end of Muscle City, near where the pumping station was located. They had running water back online very quickly, having been made priority one, and some of the men were taking turns monitoring the station and learning how it all worked. They had discovered a set of manuals, disused and dusty, along with the original blueprints, but it was all written in very technical engineering language that assumed quite a lot about the person who would be reading them. Once again, Billy marveled at the ability of the men to quickly assimilate new ideas and learn how things worked in an amazingly short time. It seemed to him that their brains were at least as well-developed as their bodies. All he had to do was put them to work and watch them grow at a similar pace as their muscles and sex drive. What he had not expected was that they would not simply learn new things, but come up with new ideas and improvements on their own. Billy, along with a few of the others who heard the shout, jogged to the monolithic water pumping station and could feel the ground shaking. The doorway stood open and one of their youngest citizens, Mike Carlson, was standing outside the open door jumping up and down and hollering as if he’d just won a medal. “I did it!” he shouted, thrusting two thickly-muscled arms into the air. “I did it!” As usual for a Muscle Club member, his cock was also in a state of excitement, bobbing up and down and slapping his abs with loud thwacks. Mike was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed heartbreaker with a body that had swollen up to massive proportions since he had been at Muscle City. Defying his youth, he had a very furry chest coated in a thick forest of golden curls, through which two fat nipples poked like small dick heads, dark against the lightness of his skin. He was nearly as tall as Billy, and possessed what several of the citizens of Muscle City called “an ass to die for.” But it was his prowess as a top that got him noticed around town. Mike could fuck like a bunny, pistoning his fat prick in and out at a record-setting pace and releasing a nearly endless supply of warm, stick cream that felt like hot chocolate on a cold night. Billy slowed to a halt and shouted over the sound of the pumps. “What did you do?” A tremendous roar was coming from the station. Mike was grinning broadly and his chest was swelling in and out as he gasped for breath, clearly excited by something. “I thought...I thought I could increase the pressure and make the pumps operate more… more….” “More optimally?” “Yeah! And I...just did it! Like, you know how the showers were kind of lame before? Well, now they’re gonna fucking blast like my cock does looking at you!” “I appreciate the compliment, Mike, but are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Billy asked tactfully. After all, Mike Carlson was only eighteen years old! How on earth could he possibly know what he was doing inside a pump station that needed to provide service for the whole city? But Mike nodded quite forcefully and answered, “Oh, fuck yeah! I mean, yes sir, Mr. Titus.” “Just Billy is fine, Mike. And ‘fuck yeah’ is also fine, especially if you’ve accomplished what you seem to have done.” “I did! It was... well, not exactly easy, but after I read the manuals everything sort of...clicked. Or something.” His brow furrowed and his youthful face took on a look of slight confusion. “Can’t explain it, really, Mr. Ti...Billy. But after I read the manuals in the building, and I looked at the equipment and the technical layouts, it was like, like, boom!” He chopped the air and slapped his loins with his hands to better illustrate the quality of his epiphany. “And I fixed the motherfucker! Better than ever!” Billy clasped Mike’s shoulder and squeezed. “Excellent work, Mike! Really excellent work!” “Thanks!” His full lips twisted into a sideways bow and his gaze narrowed. “Can I...?” “Can you what?” “Well, like, I was just wondering, like...would you...?” “Would I...?” “I...haven’t had the opportunity yet to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. For all of us. Bringing us here, together. And I was wondering if you wanted....” “Anything, Mike. For this?” Billy gestured to the loudly rumbling pumping station that would be providing hot showers for the whole city. “Anything.” “Can I...fuck you? I’m a really good fucker! Guys I’ve been with always come back for more, and I can cum like a fucking fire hydrant!” He grinned as his face filled with pride and hope. His prick remained at attention, a thick and obvious manifestation of his desires. Billy’s own majestic cock throbbed with anticipation as he swept the young man into his arms and kissed him soundly. “Mike,” he said solemnly, growling into his ear, “let’s fuck.” Things like that started happening all over Muscle City. Young men with no formal training and no former talent for a particular skill found that they could understand something with intimate and sudden clarity. It was as if their brains were operating on a new higher level, just like their bodies. It was awesome and strange, but it also accelerated the city’s resurrection by days, if not weeks. Certainly, all that manual labor was having a very positive effect on the buildings and infrastructure of their home, but without these sudden and unusual insights and epiphanies, Billy was certain that their comfort level would have remained very far down the curve. But services were quickly returning, and everyone’s demeanor brightened. As it happened, the first “normal” man to stumble into Muscle City did so entirely by accident. It happened on the fifteenth day. Remarkable progress had been made, due in no small part to Carl’s accurate assessment of the ability of men with an overabundance of strength and energy - not to mention the nightly promise of another massive orgy on the city streets - to make short order out of the most cumbersome tasks. Two weeks of steady clean-up, and the concentrated effort of some to get the local generating station back online (quite the task, it turned out, requiring specializations in several areas of engineering, electrical wiring and power consumption equations) and with the pump station once again sending fresh water into the town’s buildings meant that the men were looking quite a bit cleaner but no less naked when they received their first visitor. During the day, the 298 citizens of Muscle City were given assignments. Some were particular, like getting a home in order for living space, and some more general, like removing the trash that had accumulated around the town, but everyone had to finish their tasks in order to participate in that evening’s entertainments, which turned out to be one hell of an incentive. It was mid-afternoon on Day Fifteen when a late-model navy blue Ford appeared in town, with a single driver behind the wheel looking considerably perplexed. Evidently having lost his way, or taken a wrong turn from the highway (as there were no longer any signs indicating that the forsaken town even existed) he came to an abrupt halt at the outskirts when confronted with the sight of four seven-foot-high naked bodybuilders with colossal shanks of sex flesh staring at him from the porch of a small building that looked like it was at one time a general store. One of the bodybuilders lifted his arm and waved at him, and the other three seemed to be having a conversation about him because they kept looking at him with something like surprise and delight - one of them was even stroking his own prick! In a moment, the four of them were jogging towards him. He watched the tremendous muscles arrayed on their bodies bounce and sway, and their huge cocks looked like pendulums hanging down a foot long from their loins. “Hello!” the attentive one called, “are you lost?” He did not roll down his window, shocked and a bit scared by the sheer size of the men and the fact that they were each entirely naked. He thought he heard someone say, ‘No tugging, dudes. Play it cool.’ The main one wrapped on his window with his knuckles. His huge cock was right there, thick and long and pink, crowned by a shining wealth of dark pubic curls and hanging over a set of the largest nuts he’d ever seen. “Hello? Are you all right?” He nodded, his mouth hanging open, and still could think of nothing to say. A face lowered itself into his driver’s side window as the main bodybuilder sank to his knees. The man’s face was incredibly handsome, almost ludicrously so. It was hard to believe that anyone actually looked like that. “Need any help?” he asked. His deep, resounding voice seemed to make the glass rattle. “I...uh...where am I?” The handsome face smiled. “Muscle City,” he answered. ‘Well, of course,’ he thought. “I think I took a wrong turn.” The handsome face looked back down the road he’d arrived on. “I think that’s probably accurate.” Then he turned back. “Are you all right?” “You’re naked,” he said. The incredibly handsome man smiled. His teeth were perfect and quite white behind his full, moist lips. “I am,” he verified, and happily, too. “You’re all naked,” he added, looking from one colossal and amazing prick to the next. “We are, in fact, naked,” he verified once again. “Aaaand, is there anything I can do for you today?” “Why are you naked?” he asked, which he thought was quite a logical question. The incredibly handsome man shrugged his mountainous shoulders, which made the driver’s balls tingle for some reason. “Everyone’s naked in Muscle City,” he said, as if that were the most natural thing in the world. His head tilted slightly and he repeated, “Are you okay?” “I’m just...I just...I’m lost.” “I get that. Is there something I can do to help?” He tapped his knuckle on the glass again. “Maybe if you open your window?” He looked again at the assembled cocks, and then the other three men bent down to look inside. They were all ludicrously good looking men. The main speaker was tanned to a copper burnish and had thick blonde hair and whiskers across his square jaw. His eyes were the color of the Pacific Ocean. One of the other men looked Latino, with cocoa-colored skin that was silken in the sunlight and, of all things, a mohawk on his smooth scalp. The third man was ginger, with a shock of red hair on his head and a matching thatch on his broad, impossibly huge chest with its large, cherry nipples. The last man had pale, milky skin coating his collection of swollen brawn and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. He moved his finger to the window switch and lowered it. His nostrils flared as an immediate and very strong smell of sweet perspiration and an intoxicating and overwhelming masculine scent entered the small compartment of his sedan, and his cock twitched hard. An entire gym of naked muscle and sweaty jockstraps was swimming in the hot summer wind. The main man folded his arms and laid them on the edge of the door, causing the entire car to sway towards him. His forearms looked like hams. “Isn’t that better?” he asked. His voice was absurdly deep. He stuck his hand inside and said, “I’m Justin.” Then he gestured to the other three, and named them off starting with the blonde and ending with the redhead. “And this is Mike, Manny and Cal.” “Manuel,” the mohawk responded with an eye roll. The driver took it out of kindness, and said, “Karl.” “We have a Carl here!” Manuel chimed in. The main man - Justin - looked over at him. “There’s a lot of Carls in the world, Einstein.” Then he looked back and added, “No offense.” Karl shook his head to indicate he wasn’t offended. “You’re naked,” he said again. Justin’s handsome brow wrinkled. “I think we’ve established that.” “It’s just...isn’t that a little bit...weird?” Justin shrugged again. “It’s pretty easy to get used to, and it makes things a lot simpler around here.” “It does?” He nodded, smiling rather lasciviously, and one of his eyebrows arched. “Does it ever.” Then he glanced down at Karl’s crotch and looked back up again quickly. “Why don’t you get out of the car? Maybe there’s a map or something in the store.” Karl looked over Justin’s broad shoulder and said, “It looks closed.” “Everything’s closed,” the red-headed man - Cal - said. He had a slight southern twang to his deep voice. “That don’t mean anything.” Justin stood back up and opened up Karl’s door for him. “Stretch your legs a bit,” he advised. “You’ll feel better.” Feeling both sheepish and awkward, Karl climbed out of the Ford and stood up, surrounded by the quartet of bodybuilders, and realized for the first time how large they really were. “Jesus,” he said, “what do they put in the water around here?” “It’s not the water,” Manny answered. His skin looked quite amazing standing this close to him. Karl had to practically restrain his hands from reaching up to stroke the man’s supple beauty, his latte-colored flesh and the two chocolate kiss nipples hanging at the lower edge of each massive pectoral globe. A droplet of sweat was barely hanging on to the supple tip of one of those dark nipples, and Karl had the unusual desire to lick it off. Justin laid his arm across Karl’s shoulders and steered him towards the store. Karl had never felt tiny before, but being among these four giant musclebound hunks of male pulchritude had him feeling both inadequate and strangely turned on. He kept glancing around at the men. He had never seen anyone that large before, and that handsome, and that...naked. They seemed incredibly naked. Nakeder than naked. Fantastically naked! And muscle twitched and flexed and bulged everywhere on their tall, wide bodies. That intense masculine smell accompanied them as they walked across the hot, dusty street, making his cock throb, and it was hard for Karl to keep his eyes from looking at their cocks and asses - something he had never before felt compelled to do on another guy. He noticed how intimate they were with each other, how unabashedly familiar and easily sensual, rubbing against each other, arms across shoulders, fingers at nipples, smiles towards each other like lovers. “Someone’s tugging,” the redhead announced. “Lay off, dudes,” Justin said. “Give him a chance to breathe.” “What’s tugging?” Karl asked. Justin smiled down at him. “Nothing,” he said. “Just a sort of hobby.” Then he looked at the other three and said, with a hint of warning in his voice, “Remember what Billy said.” “I know, but….” He looked at the golden-haired one with the blue, blue eyes and said, “No buts.” Then he squeezed Justin’s shoulder and added, mysteriously, “Sorry about that, but it’s a little bit hard to resist after so long.” “Resist?” “After so long,” he repeated, smiling brightly. He was very, very handsome, Karl decided. They all were, as he glanced between the towering men surrounding him. He half-expected men this muscular to show signs of roid abuse or stretch marks or bitch tits or...something. But to a man, they were gorgeous, perfectly developed, beautifully muscled examples of masculine pulchritude. He might be straight, but he’d never seen anyone to match them. They mounted the short steps onto the store’s porch and went inside. Karl couldn’t help but notice how the men’s sweat made them look particularly attractive for some reason. It was just sweat, right? Trickles of sweat running like rivers between the massive bulges of muscle that covered their backs. Trickles of hot sweat swimming down between their muscular ass cheeks. Sweat that found its way down to their butt holes and heated them up, prime for licking and pumping. It seemed no less hot, even in the shade, and Karl’s clothes were sticking to his body. “Um, I think I saw some...yeah, over there,” Justin said, leading Karl to a wire rack with a few maps in its pockets. “You need something local,” he said, almost to himself. “This one should help you out.” He handed Karl a folded map of the local area. It was tattered and faded, as if it had been sitting there for a long time. “Probably outdated, but it should get you back to the highway.” “If that’s where you wanted to go,” the blue-eyed bodybuilder - Mike - stated, anxiously, setting his bear paw on Karl’s shoulder. “I’m sure he wants to get back on the road, don’t you Karl?” “Yeah,” he answered, though with a touch of doubt in his voice. He found himself looking down at the beautiful and powerful man’s cock and balls. What would it feel like to be fucked by that? At the soft tuft of curls mounted over his equipment. How did that furry crotch smell? At the veins traversing his tight belly, and the mounds of muscular abdominal bulges on his stomach and the two massive pectoral globes mounted on his chest. Coated in hot sweat, bathing his silky skin and begging to be licked off of him by a talented tongue. He was so very...very naked. Justin looked at the other three. “See? Karl wants to get back on the road to his destination, and then he can tell his friends all about us if he wants to.” His vice sounded strong and persuasive. “We’re really very friendly,” the redhead said. “Yes, very friendly,” the Latino agreed. “Exceptionally friendly,” blue eyes added. “I think he gets the point, dudes. Jesus, haven’t heard of the soft sell?” “Nothing soft about us,” blue eyes promised. “Tell your friends!” “Shut up already, Mike, I think he gets the point.” “What is this place, anyway?” he asked slowly, almost in a kind of trance at the sheer size and beauty of the men surrounding him. “We told you,” Justin said, gently. “This is Muscle City. Everyone here looks like us. And everyone here is naked. All the time.” “So, it’s like some kind of...bodybuilder nudist camp?” “Kind of,” Karl agreed. “But we’re very welcoming, and we really enjoy having visitors.” “Yeah! Anyone who wanted to stay here can! Like, anyone!” “Subtle, Mike,” Justin said, wrinkling his brow. “Anyway, is that all you wanted from us, Karl? Was there...anything else we can do for you?” “Yeah, anyth….” “Shut up, Mike.” “I think the map is enough, thanks,” Karl said. His eyes were drifting all over the examples of male beauty that surrounded him. Muscle, and cock and ass. Everywhere. “Cool. Excellent.” The four huge naked bodybuilders accompanied Karl back outside, into the heat of the empty street. “Okay, so, anyway, do tell your buddies about us, okay? Muscle City.” “Oh, I think it’d going to be hard to forget this place.” He could practically feel the muscular power radiating out from their hard bodies. Justin smiled, and Mike said, “You should see this place when the sun goes down! You would not believe the….” “Shut up, Mike,” Justin said, sternly. Karl walked toward his car with his map in hand. The quartet of gorgeous, naked, massively muscled and generously cocked men waited on the porch again. Justin waved as Karl got into his sedan, and they all watched him drive away until he was out of sight. “Fuck me, that was hard,” Mike said. “Took everything I had not to go alpha and cum all over his ass.” His ponderous cock inflated to steely hardness and tucked its honeyed head between his pecs in moments giving mute testimony to his words. “Fucking cute face,” Justin agreed, “but you heard what Billy said.” The other three all stated in unison, “Not without permission.” “Right,” Justin said. “But you’re right - that was fucking hard!” Then he looked at Mike’s spectacular erection and said, “You, uh, need any help with that?” “No fucking way.” “Way, James. Way fucking way.” “Muscle City?” “That’s what they said.” “It’s not on this map, though.” “Nope.” Karl looked at the map and stabbed the place he’d inadvertently found. “Right here. It’s right here. Fucking naked giant bodybuilder central.” His buddy James looked him in the eye and repeated, “No fucking way.” “I’m telling you, these four guys were stark naked and built like fucking...Mr. Universe or something! Like, fucking huge muscles and fucking huge….” “Fucking huge what?” “Muscles.” “You said that.” “It was fucking weird.” “Sounds like it.” “No, I mean…it was fucking weird.” “Yeah, I know. You said that. Naked huge dudes all acting like it’s nothing strange and acting all ‘come back anytime and bring your friends!’ and shit.” “No, I mean...okay, this will sound stupid but I swear I felt...something.” “You felt...something.” “Yeah! I felt something!” “Like what?” “They mentioned tugging.” “Tugging? Like, tug of war or something?” “No, when I...when I...it’s probably nothing.” “What did you feel?” “Okay, so, when they mentioned it, when they said ‘someone’s tugging’ and this main guy…” “Justin.” He smiled. “The handsome one.” “Right! No! I mean, Justin goes ‘lay off,’ and then it stopped.” “What stopped?” “The feeling.” “What fucking feeling?!” “I felt...okay, if you laugh I’m gonna knee you in the fucking balls, I swear! I felt...horny.” “Horny.” “Yeah.” “You were surrounded by four naked bodybuilders and you felt….” “Horny.” “Until….” “Until they stopped..tugging.” “Fuck you!” “No, I swear! It was like one minute my cock...I was all hot and bothered and it’s throbbing like I’m looking at a Playboy centerfold’s pussy and their asses looked as prime and delicious as anyone you ever dreamed about fucking and then the Justin dude goes ‘lay off’ and suddenly it’s...just...gone.” “Fag.” “You’re the fag!” “Technically I’m bi.” “No one’s fucking bi.” “I always suspected I was rubbing off on you.” “Shut the fuck up.” “I can see how that would turn you on.” “No! I swear!” “No fucking way.” “James, I fucking swear. Something happened. Something weird.” “Muscle City, huh?” “Muscle City.” “Who was it?” Justin shrugged. “Dunno. Just some guy, lost his way. So we helped him find it again.” He was smiling in such a way that suggested he was a bit disappointed that nothing had happened. “And no one…?” “No one did shit, Billy. Just like you said,” Mike answered, eagerly. “I’m proud of you gentlemen, I know that wasn’t easy.” The four young muscleteens beamed under their former teacher’s compliment. “I think we may want to pay more attention to that end of the city, in case someone else loses their way.” Justin saluted Billy with a smile and pivoted on his heel, as his three cohorts followed after him. They would make an excellent greeting contingent, Billy thought, as he watched their muscular butts walking away. Part 3 By the sixteenth day, Billy had grown massive, surpassing his lover’s size and strength and becoming the most popular man in the city - from any definition. Everyone wanted to have sex with the formerly off-limits teacher, and the benefits were obvious. He was now among the biggest, strongest and most beautiful men in Muscle City, easily picked out of a crowd of even these overly-muscled and particularly handsome men, and his features had intensified and improved to a point where he was now more beautiful than the legendary Raul Garza. Where Raul could be a bit egotistic and elevated, Billy was always nothing but sweet, big-hearted, self-confident and fucking cute. The combination of his personality, his sense of leadership and the way he looked now made him irresistible to every other man in the city. It only made Carl prouder that they were together, and more in love with the man than ever. No jealousy. No possessiveness. Tempers never flared. It made Billy wonder what was going on, and whether that sense of companionship and openness was another benefit of whatever was happening to them. Whatever it was, it was good. Things in Muscle City were moving along at a clip that seemed superhuman, until he considered that it was superhuman because they were all superhuman. They had amplified muscular development, that was obvious. What wasn’t as obvious and possibly even more important was that they worked together almost without discussion and completely without conflict. These young men, over-pumped with testosterone and amped up on hormones were somehow managing to pull together in an almost impossibly cooperative manner. Certainly, they were taking more than the usual number of breaks while working to engage each other in...recreational pursuits. How could they not? Everywhere he turned, there was another amazing ass, another handsome smiling face, another set of mammoth pecs and meaty nipples poking up though thick coats of sweaty fur, another slick, hot prick beginning to plump to its full, glorious power and ready to start pumping the owner’s overwhelming payload of rich, sweet, hot, thick, delicious cream. Literally everywhere. Resistance, as the saying goes, was futile. The sounds of construction and destruction were hard to tell apart. As many men were rebuilding structures as they were tearing down uninhabitable ones. Naked men stood under open showers of water or being hosed down by their companions, washing off the grime, dirt and sweat, moving their large and powerful hands over the muscular contours of their bodies in a kind of self-worship of their size, beauty and power. Men routinely kissed each other in greeting, showing open affection and genuine love for each other as if that were the most routine thing in the world. And Muscle City started to take shape, so at the end of the third week it was time to introduce Step Two to the young citizens; the opening of Muscle University. He wasn’t sure how they would react. After all, he had promised them freedom, and now he was going to try to put them back in school, again, albeit a school the likes of which had never existed and probably never would anywhere but here. Billy and his fellow teachers would be the catalysts, of course, but he was relying on a new kind of learning that would involve the students as teachers to each other. He hoped the rewards would be self-evident. Before that evening’s usual activities, and as the men gathered again in the center of the city to fall into another wanton evening of unbridled, uninhibited, unrestrained pornographic partying, he stood among them to introduce Step Two. It was not hard to get their attention. Billy was now the unrivaled master of the entire group - bigger, stronger and the most beautiful of any of them. “Good evening, gentlemen!” he announced in his deep, soothing tone. Shouts in return greeted his address. “Before the night’s proceedings begin, I would like a few moments of your time to explain the next step in Muscle City’s development.” “Looks like you’ve got some developments of your own, Billy!” Whoops and hollers of agreement and approval met the anonymous observation, and Billy found himself blushing - only increasing his attraction to certain members of the audience. “Thanks for noticing,” he offered, self-deprecatingly. “How could we not?” someone shot back. It was true, of course, but Billy ignored the compliments and moved ahead with the evening’s announcement. “I’m sure some of you have noticed that our little group...” “Who’s little?” “Shut the fuck up and let the man talk!” “Sorry!” Billy stifled a laugh. “Uh, so, I’m sure some of you have noticed that our big, muscular, pornographic group has been exceptionally successful rebuilding our new home. Things are working much better than any of us had ever dreamed possible, and it’s all thanks to every one of you. You’re all remarkable, amazing, beautiful, sexy and magnificent - but you’re also incredibly smart! Imagine my surprise!” General laughs met his joke, understanding the nature of it as well as understanding the meaning behind it. They were smarter! “What I want to do is help that particular aspect of our continuing growth and development, both as a community and as individuals, by introducing some structured education into our home.” “Uh oh, I think I hear the word ‘homework’ coming.” He smiled. “Perhaps, but I think you’re going to appreciate and even enjoy this homework, because it will involve each of you becoming both student and teacher.” This time there were no smart retorts, and the faces turned towards him - by now fully trusting in the things he said and did - looked at him with anticipation and interest. “All of you have special talents, things at which you excel, or things you have a passion for. I want you to consider those things now, and keep in mind that nothing is too odd or trivial or silly. You may think your hobby is something personal that only you would enjoy, or that you have a unique skill that isn’t of any practical use. Maybe there’s something you always wanted to try but never had the time - or the nerve. “Muscle University is about all those things - and everything else. The other trained teachers and I will conduct a more...run-of-the-mill curriculum. English, Biology, Chemistry, History, Political Science. All those boring subjects you never thought had any practical purpose for you.” There was a smattering of laughter born of recognition. They had all, at one time or another, said exactly that. “But I assure you that there’s some practical and useful knowledge in every aspect of learning, no matter the subject. What’s important is not necessarily the lesson you learn today. What’s important, however, is that you keep learning.” He paused to make eye contact with the hundreds of beautiful male faces looking at him now. There was silence in the square, and he knew he now had their full attention. “Nothing is mandatory, gentlemen, but I urge all of you not to abandon curiosity. If you don’t know something, it is time to learn it. If you do know something, it is time to teach it.” He smiled. “Now, I fully expect that there will be more than a few classes in oral sex, some lessons in perfecting the art of the orgasm, probably even kissing classes and, I hope, ‘how to fully satisfy your partner in ten easy lessons.’” He looked at Carl as he said this, raising an eyebrow and winking. More laughter, now, mixed with sounds of realization and exchanged looks between the men. Most of them knew who they wanted those particular lessons from, and there were exchanged glances and nods to that end. “And there will be time for that as well. Believe me, I’m one of you - I’m just like you - and I fully understand that...need. Just don’t avoid the other classes, please. You will not be expected nor required to attend any of them, but let me assure you, and promise you from the bottom of my heart that you will never regret knowing more. “You will only regret not knowing.” He stopped as a warm summer wind swept through the naked bodies. The sun was set and the sky was purple as the stars began to appear. “When?” someone asked. “When?” he repeated, slightly surprised. “Yeah, when do we start?” The two simple questions turned into a murmur of agreement that quickly became an excited buzz among the young muscular men. “We start now,” a familiar voice announced. “And we start here.” Billy’s lover Carl, naked and glorious, his muscles pumped to their utmost extents after a day of hard work and drenched in sweat, mounted the small seating area that surrounded the city fountain where Billy was standing. He clapped his hands together and then held them up over his head. Billy nearly swooned as his lover’s unique and spicy manscent washed over him. He stank deliciously. “Gentlemen,” Carl said, mimicking his boyfriend’s manner and words, “gather around me. I am going to give you two valuable lessons. The first is a lesson about fear. “No, don’t worry, I’m not gonna start singing. I want you all - every single one of you - to know what we have here. Did you ever stop to think why you did the...more questionable things in your life? The things you regret or the things you’re ashamed of?” “Like being an asshole?” Carl laughed. “Well, that’s certainly one way of putting it. And, yeah, I guess that’s true. When you’ve been an asshole to others, or even an asshole to yourself. Treated someone unkindly, said words you regret, even acted out with violence. Why did you do that, really, particularly considering that you haven’t done it at all since we got here? “And also consider this: if there ever was a time to start acting like an asshole, I’d think that being stuck in a dead city surrounded by nothing but stuck-up guys with too much libido and testosterone would be one very great place to start. But none of us have done it, and I think I know why. “Fear is the reason for most of the bad shit in the world. I’m gonna go all Yoda on your asses, but it’s true. You say stupid shit because you’re afraid of someone, of what they might say or do - or even think. You want to hurt them, maybe, because they hurt you. But before it ever gets to the hurting point, it’s the fear that drives us all there. “Think about when you used to get angry. Think about when you used to feel bad about yourself. Think about feeling sad, or feeling confused, or feeling like you didn’t want to go outside. Why did you feel like that? I’d bet it had something to do with what someone else said or did, and you were afraid. Afraid they were right about you, and their words that might have been said out of their own fear - I mean, c’mon, we are pretty fucking intimidating and we’re odd and weird and…” “And fucking cool!” Carl laughed again, and nodded. “And fucking cool, sure. But when someone else is different, the first reaction is fear. Don’t know why exactly. Except that’s not the case here. Not here, and not with us. “There is no fear here. Did you realize that? No fear at all. Nothing and no one to fear. No one here will ever judge you about being you. You can do whatever you want to do - and what you want to do likely involves being naked and sucking on a dick or kissing some lips or getting even bigger than you are now, and no one - not one soul on any street or in any building, no one standing next to you right now - is going to object or call you names or try to prevent you from it. In fact, they’ll want to help you achieve it. They want to see you succeed and grow and be the fucking happiest guy you’ve ever been. “There is no fear here. Which leads me to my second lesson, and the second lesson is in love.” Whoops and hollers went up, and a good many of the superteens were already stroking in anticipation of a good public fuck, but Carl held up his hands to regain quiet. “I didn’t say lovemaking, I said love. And this is a lesson in the most powerful and most precious form of love - unconditional love.” Billy’s brow furrowed because he didn’t know what to expect any more than the audience did. Carl glanced at him before he continued. “I want to teach you today about what you have been receiving, maybe without even knowing it, and what sort of man is standing next to me up here. Oh, no, Mr. Titus, you aren’t going anywhere!” He grabbed his lover’s meaty arm and pulled him back to stand next to him, and Carl placed his own well-developed limb across Billy’s shoulders. “By now, I’m sure you have all been able to share some quality time with William Titus. I mean, look at him! He’s pretty fucking amazing, am I right?” Cheers, loud and long and sustained, erupted. Billy blushed again. “But I don’t want to teach you about what this man looks like, because that isn’t what’s most amazing and wonderful and just plain fucking miraculous about him. “Billy Titus sacrificed everything for every one of you standing here tonight.” He paused again, looking at the curious and confused faces before him and Billy started to object, but Carl interrupted him. “Consider if you will your own lives. Not what you are enjoying here and now, surrounded by your brothers, living naked and free here in this place, building yourselves a new home among people who care about you, and cherish you, and love you. “We don’t use that word very often, and I believe we should. I love all of you. I love you. I won’t qualify that to say that I love you like brothers, I simply love you and I trust - I know - that you love me. “That is something special, dudes. That doesn’t exist anywhere else. That exists here, among us, and only here - because of this man.” He looked at Billy’s handsome face. “As you no doubt know, Billy and I have been together for a number of months, long before either of us could be honest about that, though neither of us chose to live that lie. It was something we had to do, and it was something we did together. It was because of that world where we lived, and you know what that was like. “How many of you here were rejected by your friends?” Some hands went up. Some heads nodded. “How many were thrown out by your own families? Your own mothers and fathers?” A few more hands. A few more nods. “But...how many of you felt totally abandoned? Adrift and forlorn? Alone and friendless? How many of you had no one to turn to?” The hands all dropped, and every set of eyes looked at Billy Titus. “He fought for you in ways you never knew about. He put up with...Christ...so much shit. Just...shit...about us. The things they said. And you don’t know how many times we were on the brink, how much they hated us and didn’t want us around. “Billy never gave up on a single one of us. Billy never said no to any of you who asked for help, and he offered help to more of you who never even asked but needed it anyway. When you were confused, or lonely, or rejected or betrayed, there was one man who was always there. “And he is standing here next to me tonight. “Unconditional love is a love that accepts you exactly the way you are. It is a kind of love that understands you when no one else does, a love you can always turn to and trust in and believe in. An unquestioning, all-encompassing love. And that, my brothers, is the love that Billy has for us - and that I have for him. “Think on that, please. In the entire world, there will always be one person - one man - who will love you exactly how you are. And that man is Billy Titus. “So here is the lesson for you to take away - the first lesson of Muscle University, if I may be so bold. Love each other. Love each other unconditionally. That doesn’t mean fuck each other, because I know we’ll all do that anyway, and some of us are really quite good at that too - but loving each other, that takes courage and patience and something that I don’t think most of you have experienced like I have. And that thing is the love of a very good man. “But just to make things clear...this one’s mine.” Carl wrapped Billy in his strong arms and kissed him quite fiercely. The crowd went absolutely fucking insane. They stormed the stage and surrounded Billy and Carl. Some of them were crying openly. Others were cheering, pumping fists in the air, shouting his name. In that moment, on that night, what Muscle City might be and what it might become was illustrated in a way that no one who was there would ever forget. Classes happened with the same unusual style as almost everything else in Muscle City. Someone would ask a question, and someone else would offer an explanation. Someone else might doubt the explanation and want clarification or source, and then the three would go find one of the six adult teachers that lived in the city and start a conversation about the question. In short order, others would gather, and the conversation would become a class. In some instances, the question itself would be forgotten as the discussion turned to questions of philosophy or history, psychology or biology, mathematics or political science. Why do people behave in certain ways? How does weather work? What’s in sweat? Does everyone have the same erogenous zones? Why do some people like hearing filthy talk during sex and other people don’t? What’s electricity? How do testes produce semen? Why does fucking feel so good? Unlike their time in high school classrooms, this time the young men all paid close attention to the answers - and when the answers were provided, inevitably more questions were raised as a result. Constant questioning became the norm. Never settle, never simply accept, start to think about things, both rationally and emotionally, and investigate and discover. The idea of being wrong was never totally eliminated. Boys will be boys, of course, and the usual jibes and good-natured joking about how someone else thought or someone’s inarticulate conclusion wasn’t mocked so much as recognized. “Have you considered…?” “But what about…?” “Would an exception be…?” Conversations and discussions cropped up constantly, and the citizens of Muscle City slowly learned the talent of critical thinking and the art of constant curiosity. Billy and the other teachers - who, it must be said, were becoming as popular and, therefore, as large and handsome as Mr. Titus was himself - found themselves in constant demand. Certainly they knew things that the teenagers didn’t, but they were constantly amazed at the ease with which their much-expanded student body now absorbed and devoured that knowledge and began, on their own, to expand on it. The teenagers’ insatiable curiosity was becoming a match for their insatiable libidos. As much as their bodies craved pleasure and satisfaction, their minds seemed to wake up and crave constant input and a desire for more knowledge. “So you’re saying that the desire for sex is driven solely by a need to grow the species?” “Not solely, no, but it certainly plays a huge part in the process. Speaking in evolutionary terms, it’s easy to see that a species with more members could overwhelm any others in competition for the same environment, the same food sources, the same protections…” “What about us, then?” “Us, meaning you fine young gentlemen?” “Us, and you, sir.” Mr. O’Malley smiled. He often forgot he was now one of these beautiful specimens of perfect human masculinity when he was in ‘teacher mode’ again. And he enjoyed being called ‘sir,’ particularly since he never asked to be. “If this is a step in evolution, what is the driving force?” “Yeah, it would seem like we’d need to be pumping out our own babies, too, if the theory is correct.” “You’re assuming, though, that this is a natural step in human evolution.” “You’re suggesting we’re unnatural?” The question came from Tyler Chang, a young man who often asked the difficult questions. “I would suggest that the processes of change acting on us are not natural in the sense that they did not originate from nature. Evolution as it occurs in nature is a very slow, methodical process, it doesn’t normally occur in fits and starts, and certainly not to the extent that we can observe in ourselves at the moment of change.” “So we are unnatural.” “In a sense, but in a very literal sense. Don’t prescribe the word with prejudicial overtones, Mr. Chang. Perhaps we are an evolutionary step, but if so that distinction is unlikely to become clear for years, or even centuries. Or we may be an anomaly and destined to disappear in the course of things.” “So...we’re like...an endangered species?” “I certainly wouldn’t go that far, Mr. Jenkins,” he told the dark-skinned youth with the large brown eyes and the full, kissable lips. “But I think an examination of our place in the world is a worthwhile endeavor.” He looked at the two dozen young men gathered around for his impromptu biology and ethics class. “What is our place in this world? What is our responsibility to our fellow man? How should we choose to use these gifts we have been given in such abundance? Certainly, we can look at ourselves as unnatural or freakish, but to what end? How does that benefit us or others?” “You’re saying we have a responsibility to….” “No, Mr. Singh. I’m not saying anything, nor, I hope, am I implying anything. If you feel responsibility, ask yourselves why, and to whom are you responsible? What I am suggesting to you is to be thoughtful about yourself and your impact on this world and others. It is...easy to be ignorant. It is easy to choose not to think on the decisions you make, and what their larger implications are. Consider your strengths, of which there are many and they are all quite ample. You are wonders, gentlemen. You are miracles. You can do things no one else can, and you can use those powers to the benefit or the detriment of others. This is not a fact that is singular to us, it applies to everyone. “We all make choices. Sometimes we are thoughtful about them, and sometimes we are emotional about them. I think using both considerations will provide the best solution, but one without the other can lead to unintended consequences.” Part 4 The sounds of Muscle City would be unusual for anyone who was not already a citizen to recognize. There were occasional shouts of feral pleasure, deep groans that built to earthquake level as the young men joined into a chorus of sexual bliss, and the more familiar sound of skateboards rolling along the sidewalks and streets. If Clubbers weren’t walking or running to their destination or rendezvous, they were boarding there. A few others had brought along their bikes, and these young men were discovering similar tricks that they could do, though their new huge bodies were often too large for the bikes they brought. Watching a hyper-muscular young man traveling along on a skateboard was an interesting and surprisingly erotic scene. He would stand there, hips thrust forward for balance, his perfect collection of muscles working in unison to propel him forward as his massive cock swung like a pendulum. His thick head of hair would fan in the breeze like a flag of action, and he would be inevitably smiling with unvarnished glee at the sensation of freedom and fun that naked skateboarding provided. It wasn’t long before they began to understand that no physical feat or action was beyond the capabilities of their new powerful bodies, and it wasn’t uncommon to see a group of boys with the skateboards performing flawless maneuvers and acrobatics that might have seemed impossible before, their massive muscles bulging and flexing with infinite capability as their huge cocks flopped and waged like happy puppy tails. Even when they didn’t land the jump or missed the target, when they fell and tumbled and crashed with enough power to crumble walls or even destroy entire buildings, they got back up without a scratch to their skin or a bruise to their muscles. After realizing that they were more or less indestructible, their antics and athletics soon went to even greater heights, and the place became a kind of circus for their incredible bodies and superhuman capabilities. Inevitably, after testing their powerful bodies and watching each other perform increasingly elaborate and difficult tricks, they’d fall into each other’s sweat-coated embrace and engage in the most pleasurable physical activity of all - and the one their new bodies had been designed to excel at without peer. Part 5 The Felicitators, as they had come to call themselves, being Justin the handsome dark-haired leader, Mike the cute blonde surfer dude with intense blue eyes, Aztec god Manny with his chocolate kiss nipples and smooth, latte skin, and red-headed Cal with his milky flesh and Southern accent, arrived upon their own skateboards, winding between and around each other like fish in a stream, curving and leaning and bending their superior bodies, grinning and laughing with giddy happiness as they arrived at their appointed spot, to see if someone new would arrive. They only needed to wait a couple of days for the blue Ford sedan to make a reappearance, only this time it had two occupants. Justin was the one who suggested the name for their quartet, to much joking from his compatriots. “Felicitators?” Cal asked. “What the fuck is a felicitator?” “As in felicitations,” Justin calmly explained. Cal’s freckled features contorted. “What the fuck are felicitations?” “It means ‘friendly greetings,’” Justin explained calmly. “And why not just be The Friendly Greeters?” “Too mundane.” To which Manuel replied, “Oh, it’s too ‘mundane’? Are we going to offering them scones and tea when they arrive, then?” “What the fuck is a scone?” Cal asked. “I got something to offer them,” Mike said, grabbing himself. “Who else knew Mike would be the first one to go there?” Justin asked, putting his hand up. “Don’t be jealous,” Mike said. “Just because I’m bigger than you are.” “It’s not the tool,” Justin said, smiling, “it’s what you do with it.” “He has a good point,” Manny said, “and I know because I’ve been at the other end of it.” Manny and Cal were inside fucking, and Justin and Mike were outside the small general store making out when they heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. Justin was leaning his fine naked butt against the doorframe and Mike was kissing him quite passionately, accompanied by the rather boisterous and aggressive sounds of Cal urging Manny on using some fairly colorful language. The entire building was literally shaking just from the actions taking place inside between the two huge muscular teenaged demigods. “Dudes,” Justin called out, “get the tea and fucking scones ready!” “You are fucking shitting me.” “Told you, dude! I fucking told you!” Karl and James were looking through the dusty windshield toward the seemingly empty streets of the oddly abandoned town. And to the left, on the porch of the weirdly old-fashioned store stood two naked bodybuilders who had been, only moments ago, making out like horny teenagers at the back of a dark theatre. “Were they…?” Karl asked. “Yes, they fucking were,” James confirmed. “That big dark-haired naked bodybuilder and that big blonde-haired naked bodybuilder were kissing each other like it was going out of fucking style.” James had a hard-on and Karl wasn’t far behind. Justin and Mike turned towards the car as it slowed to a stop in the middle of the street, and Justin said, more loudly, “Dudes! Fuck later, it’s time to friendly greet some visitors!” Then Justin and Mike moved off the porch and jogged towards the car, both with huge smiles on their handsome faces and all of their tremendous muscles bouncing and shifting beneath their flawless skin. “Holy fuck,” James said. Karl was opening the door and stepping outside the sedan, while his friend remained dumbstruck and horny inside the warm compartment. “Hey, Karl!” Justin said, putting his heavy arm across the smaller man’s shoulders. “Welcome back!” Then he bent slightly to peer through the driver’s side and asked, “Who’s your friend?” “That’s James,” he answered. Then he looked up at the handsome man’s face and remarked, “Are you even bigger than before?” Justin looked down at himself and shrugged. “Possibly.” Then he looked at Karl and said, “You’re looking good.” “Uh, thanks?” “Hey, no problem.” He smiled as his eyes moved up and down the smaller man’s body. “No problem at all.” Then Mike grabbed Karl in his arms and hugged him. “Karl!” he said, happily. “Fucking great to see you again!” He hugged him tightly. Karl could quite easily discern every hard muscle lining the huge man’s frame, as well as a thick, firm shank of sex meat that he pressed into Karl’s belly. It felt like a fucking nightstick. The two naked bodybuilders smelled ripe and musky, but it wasn’t a bad scent to Karl’s nose. In fact, he found it surprisingly enticing. “Uh, James? Are you gonna come out of the car and say hello?” James swallowed hard and looked down at the raging hard-on shoving itself against his fly. “I need a minute.” Justin and Mike both bent down and their two sets of eyes found the source of James’s embarrassment easily. “Whoa,” Mike said with a growl. “Looks like James is gonna fit right in.” Then he looked at James in the face and said, “Don’t worry about springing a stiffy around us, James. Hell, it’s amazing I’m not sporting a raging boner right now just looking at you.” James turned bright red. “What?” “Fuck yeah, dude. No worries. Would it make you feel better if we were all hard as fucking stone? ‘Cause I can do that.” Justin said, “I think maybe we should allow James a bit of privacy if he wants it, as enticing as your invitation is, Mike.” Then he stood up, directing his attention back to Karl. “So, what brings you back to our little town?” “Your little naked bodybuilders making out in public sort of a town?” Justin smiled. “Yes, that’s the one.” “James was curious about the place after I told him about the first time I came here. He thought I was lying.” “How rude! But you can hardly blame him, can you?” Cal and Manny appeared in the store’s doorway. Both men were covered in sweat and dirt, as if they had been wrestling nude on the dusty floor. As they stepped from the shadows into the sunlight, their skin took on a copper sheen and every thickly developed muscle was suddenly keenly defined. Cal had a raging boner that wagged like a metronome as he walked, and Manny’s dick looked like it was slowly deflating from its majestic glory, still firm and thick and slick with wetness. Mike hunkered down next to the car and set his ham-thick forearms on the open window as he said to James, “See there? Cal has a nice hard-on too. Why don’t you come on out of there and say hello?” James’s eyes were round as they looked at the approaching men, and particularly at the largest erection he’d ever seen - either in person or in print. It was colossal. It was amazing. It was...scary. He put his hand on the door handle and stepped out of the small sedan, his own boner still throbbing with dull, hard pulses. Mike came around to the passenger side and hung his heavily-muscled arm across James’s shoulder and reached his hand down and gave the smaller man’s dick a friendly squeeze and rub. “Dudes,” he shouted towards Cal and Manny, “I think we’ve found a new friend!” “Who… who are you guys?” Mike looked at him. “Just guys. Like you.” “I’m not like you,” he said, confidently, looking at these four massively muscled and incredibly handsome men. “You could be,” Mike said. “It’s easy.” “One step at a time, Mike,” Justin advised. “Welcome to Muscle City, James. I’m Justin, this is Mike, and our two approaching Romeos are Calvin and Manuel.” The final two musclebound superteens arrived at the car and offered their hands. A redolent smell of sex accompanied their arrival. It was pungent and powerful and as strong as they looked. “Hey,” Cal said. “What’s up?” Manny asked, shaking James’s small hand in his huge paw. Then his eyes drifted south to where Mike was still massaging and rubbing James’s insistent hard-on and his elegant eyebrow arched. “You need any more help with that, just let me know.” Mike said, “I’ve got a hand on it.” Karl looked at his friend and smirked. Justin said, “Well, James, what do you think? Was our friend Karl here lying about us?” “Fuck no,” he said softly. “This is amazing.” “No,” Mike said, “this is amazing.” And he squeezed James’s cock earnestly. “How...how did you guys get...so...big?” James managed to ask. “It started with these two guys at school. You remember the trumans?” Karl said, “Huge guys? Bigger than you? Yeah, they were everywhere for a minute or two and then they disappeared. I thought it was some kind of, like, advertising stunt or something.” Justin shrugged, “Yeah, I don’t know either, but these two guys found something and it changed them, like, overnight. They got bigger, grew muscles like magic, got huge pricks, then grew bigger muscles, then grew bigger pricks, then they just kept growing. And then they changed some others, and things kind of ballooned from there.” He grinned quite proudly and his collection of brawn swelled slightly everywhere, as if he himself was growing larger on the spot. Karl looked down at Justin’s fat prick and said, “Ballooned?” “Is everyone…?” James was evidently having trouble making his mouth work. “Everyone here is like us. We came here to be who we are, do want we want to, and not have to worry about making others feel comfortable or conform to their rules anymore.” Manny spoke up. “It’s a little weird at first,” he said, lifting up his arm and watching the muscle inflate into glory, pumping higher and fatter and thicker with obvious strength, “and things are awkward. You break things, and you run into door frames and you have to be careful about...stuff.” His arm relaxed, but his cock was plumping. “But it’s surprisingly easy to grow accustomed to.” He reached down to stroke himself with a randy smile on his full, soft lips. “I don’t understand,” Karl admitted. “How did it happen?” “Well, it has to do with…” Cal asked, “Are you sure we should say anything?” “Billy told us to be honest, so let’s be honest,” Justin said, and then he nodded to Manny. The handsome hung Latino said, “Put simply, if you swallow my cum, you get bigger.” “Your cum?” “Or mine!” Mike offered helpfully. “Or mine,” Cal added. Justin shook his head and rubbed his eyes. These guys…. “If you swallow any guy’s sperm - any guy here in Muscle City - you’ll get bigger.” He looked James in the eyes, emphasizing the truth of every word he was speaking. “You’ll grow taller, you’ll develop muscles like ours, your cock will get bigger, your balls will swell with cream, your face will change, you’ll never get sick, you’ll have the energy of ten guys and the strength of 20, your libido will go through the roof and you’ll experience a level of horniness so vast and unlimited that you’ll start to wonder if you’ll ever be satisfied.” He paused, smiling. “That sound about right to you dudes?” He studied Justin’s handsome features more closely. “My face will change?” Justin nodded. “It gets...better. Everything gets better, like you’ve been put inside that Captain America chamber and pumped full of something and you come out the other side bigger, stronger, sexier and...well, like us.” Karl looked at the four towering, muscle-packed dudes standing around him. They were undeniably the most beautiful men he’d ever laid eyes on, and just looking at them - at their faces and their muscles and their oversized sexual equipment - was testimony enough that what Justin had just explained had to be true. “But...how?” Justin shrugged, and it looked like mountains shifting. “Don’t know, really. I guess it’s something genetic, something that changes you at a very essential level. And it happens very fast.” “How fast?” “Very fucking fast.” “But...but...that...that’s….” “Yo, Mike? Could you stop your manhandling of our new friend’s equipment for a sec? I think he wants to say something.” Mike pouted as he stopped rubbing and squeezing James’s hard-on, but he did not remove his large hand from its proximity. “But...fuck, you’re good,” he said, looking at Mike, who smiled and winked. “But that’s gotta hurt like a motherfucker! Growing taller? Getting bigger muscles? That all takes energy and pain and you’re...you’re stretching the fucking bones and breaking down everything in your body!” “Feels fucking great,” Calvin said, bouncing his tremendous pecs as if to accentuate his claim. Karl watched the muscle fibers roil and swell. “Feels like...a fucking amazing orgasm.” “But, where do you all come from? How is it you’re all living here? How come no one knows about this?” Justin said, “People know. Our parents. Our friends. Relatives. People we used to know who didn’t want us around anymore. People who were glad to see us go. They know we went somewhere.” He shrugged. “Kind of doubt any of them care where we are or what we’re doing, as long as we’re gone.” “Why’s that? Was there some trouble?” “Guys kept turning into muscular giants, didn’t they? Guys started inflating with muscle, we were fucking each other whenever and wherever we could. The world out there, it’s not made for us.” “Fucking...each other?” “Oh. Yeah. Probably should mention that part. We’re all gay.” “All of you?” Karl asked, incredulously. “Every last fucking one of us,” Cal reported. “And couldn’t be happier!” “That’s not possible. Statistically….” “I can prove it to you, if you like,” Cal said, wagging his eyebrows with a leer. “But believe me, we’re all gay. Maybe not before the change, but very certainly after it.” “It turns you gay?” Justin shrugged. “Among other things, yeah. But really, what girl could handle this thing, anyway?” he asked, hefting his gargantuan tool into his large hand and wagging it at Karl. It was a thick, long tube of heavy sex meat. “But among us guys, it works pretty good.” He beamed a smile of absolute happiness, and let the giant cock drop, slapping against his thickly muscular thigh. “This is all...very strange.” “Very cool, you mean!” James retorted. “It’s like some kind of dream!” This made Mike very happy, and his manipulations of James’s enflamed hard-on resumed. “I’m happy you’re happy,” he growled, grabbing onto the thick cock within its denim shield. “Aw, fuck,” James said softly. “What was… what was the… the thing…. that you….” “What thing?” “The tug...aw fuck that feels sooooo good.” “Oh, yeah!” Karl said, remembering. “What was that thing that happened? When I was here last? Someone said something about tugging.” Mike’s face reddened and Justin’s handsome visage tightened slightly. “That’s...another thing. We’re not supposed to do that to others.” “What is it?” “Did you...want to feel it, Karl?” “I don’t know. Explain what it is, first.” “It’s harder to explain than to just give you a taste of it,” Justin said. “Just a small taste.” “Just a nibble,” Cal said, smiling. “I think Mike should do it, though.” “Yeah, Mike’s…very talented,” Manny admitted. “No shit,” James readily agreed, gasping in evident bliss. Mike smiled. “You want to be tugged?” he asked. Karl tilted his head, and then slightly nodded. “Okay,” Mike said. A smile was the only change to his face, and he seemed not to move a single of his massive muscles as he stood there, looking at Karl. A warmth surrounded the smaller man. A warmth that did not originate from the bright sun overhead, and he realized that it was coming from Mike. Mike was doing something to him, to his body and his brain, and all his thoughts suddenly turned carnal and very dirty. He wanted to fuck Mike. He wanted to fuck him very badly. His cock began to throb with hard, insistent beats and his skin felt tight and hot and his mouth went dry. He wanted to kiss Mike. He wanted to pull the giant man into his arms and press their mouths together. He wanted to reach down and squeeze the muscular behemoth’s gigantic cock and feel it swell and lengthen in his hand as he delivered strokes of bliss to the fat shank of sex and felt it growing hotter and harder in his hands. He wanted to pull open his jeans and pull out his own throbbing dick and spit into his hand a slather it up with saliva before twisting the bodybuilder’s huge frame around and pushing himself inside. He wanted to be inside the man, and all over him, feeling his muscles and his lips and his dick, feeling his skin, all its silky smoothness covering all his steely hardness. He reached down to undo his belt and pull his fly open. And the feeling dissipated as quickly as it had manifested. Those lustful thoughts of the other man and what he wanted to do and how he would do it all and the sensation of exactly what that would feel like disappeared. “Just a taste,” Mike said. The smile was still on his lips. Looking down, it was hard to avoid noticing that the huge man’s huge equipment was now fully erect, a fantastic and almost frightening manifestation of his power and his sex and his desire. It arched its long, thick neck up from his loins and throbbed with hard beats. Veins visibly pulsed along every inch, feeding it hot blood, and the head blossomed like some overripe fruit filled with juice and seed. “Holy fuck,” Karl whispered. “Not exactly holy,” Justin qualified, looking at his friend’s huge hardness and reaching over to grab him and stroke him with the sort of familiarity and naturalness that suggested that this sort of thing happened all the time. “Impressive, nonetheless.” Mike beamed as Justin stroked him. His entire body seemed to swell, as if every inch of him was made of cock, and his muscles pressed outward against his slick, perfect skin. “Thanks,” he answered, as he released a thick flow of pre-cum that coated his friend’s grip in slick honey. His scent grew voracious on the warm wind, thick with sex and the essence of masculine power. “Fuck,” Karl whispered again. James was speechless. He had just discovered paradise, and was surrounded by the men of his dreams who were all naked, powerful, beautiful, and apparently ready and willing to do with him everything and anything he had ever fantasized about. He looked from one to the next, drinking in the dark beauty of Manuel’s gaze, the towering majesty of Mike’s magnificent erection, the overwhelming sense of control and perfection radiating from Justin and Calvin’s silky, milky flesh and all the bulging muscular development that was so much beyond anything he’s ever seen before. Justin looked at him and said, “Are you all right, James? You seem...distracted.” “I...I’m...I…” Justin smiled warmly. “I know the feeling. The first time I was surrounded by some Muscle Club guys, I felt exactly the same way. Shall I do for you what they did for me, to help me...adjust?” James nodded slowly. “All right,” Justin answered, his smiling brightening. “Why don’t you step with me over to the store. I think having so many of us around at once can be a bit...unnerving.” James nodded and followed the towering naked monument of muscle away from the car and the other three Muscle City residents, leaving Karl alone with Calvin, Manny and Mike who all turned their undivided attention towards their guest. “Where are they going?” he asked. Mike explained, “Justin has a way of making people feel comfortable.” His bronzed face looked semi-serious. Manny nodded. “He’s...gifted.” “Gifted?” Calvin’s strawberry blonde head nodded. He looked towards the store and the departing pair with obvious longing. “That’s sort of why he’s in charge of us.” “I didn’t think anyone was in charge - or could be.” “Oh, I may be overstating his role,” Cal admitted, “but in the scheme of things, and between the four of us, Justin is most definitely the Alpha dog.” “Because…?” Calvin smiled slimly. “He’s gifted.” “Oh,” Karl said, watching his friend following after the enormous, thickly-muscled behemoth. “And...what shall the four of us do in the meantime?” “I have a couple of ideas,” Mike answered. Part 6 The store, when they reached it, was nearly as warm inside as the street was outside. It had been cleaned up, and was now little more than an empty shell. James observed that Justin had to duck and turn slightly sideways just to fit through the door, and he looked even taller, broader and more muscular than he had when they had met, as if the man had grown larger and heavier with brawn with every step he had taken. Justin turned and smiled, “Relax, James.” The smaller man smiled back towards the naked bodybuilder with the mammoth cock. The larger man seemed to be giving off a palpable heat, and he smelled raw and sexy. James had never seen nor met anyone to even compare with the man standing before him. He was...prefect. So huge, so strong, so handsome and yet so gentle and friendly. And fucking sexy as all fuck! He could hardly believe that a man such as Justin was real, leaving aside that he would even be alone with him. He drank him in, burning his beauty and power into memory for future fantasies. “Turn around, please,” Justin instructed. “What are you going to do?” “I’m going to make you feel very, very good,” Justin answered. James pivoted in place and closed his eyes, braced for whatever the huge man had planned. Then, with a gentleness that belied the larger man’s size and strength, Justin’s huge and powerful hands were on his shoulders, and the muscular man began to firmly massage and knead James’s muscles, rubbing his neck and the back of his scalp, and moving his talented hands across James’s shoulders. As he did so, a sensation of bliss came over him, like a cascade of warm water than sank into his body and calmed him. “What… what’re you doing?” “It’s like tugging,” Justin explained, “but with a bit of finesse. Something I learned to do with a lot of patience and a lot of practice on my brothers.” “Your brothers?” “The other guys here.” His voice was soft, but deep. A rumble of power from that immense and beautiful chest. “We think of each other as brothers, of a sort. Of course, some of us really are brothers.” He grabbed form flesh and muscle and massaged his new friend, sanding constant cascades of soothing pleasure into his brain. “And do they…?” “Do they what?” Justin’s hand traveled down James’s back. “Does everyone here...have sex...with...?” “Do they fuck each other?” James nodded and moaned softly. “Possibly,” Justin admitted. “Probably.” His voice was soft, deep and soothing. His words were calm, and he simply stated what he knew without judgment or implication. “When we were back in town - back in our old home - and we had to spend our nights alone, sometimes finding someone else to be with was all that mattered. We don’t enjoy being alone, and we’ll seek out the company and pleasure of others like us regardless of the circumstances. Often that other person - or persons - lived beneath the same roof.” He rubbed James’s scalp, and pushed a thick rush of pleasure into his head. “We have several advantages at our disposal, and depending on how you look at it, one of those is that we’re in a constant state of arousal - and another one is that we’re also able to act on that state constantly.” “Constant?” “Yes.” “Right now?” “Yes.” “You’re...aroused?” “Very much so.” “By me?” “Yes,” Justin answered. True, his body was always pulsing with dulls throbs of need and sexual prowess, but the presence of another man pushed that needle into the red zone. He could smell James, feel him, feel his potential and his power. Sleeping inside him, waiting to be woken up. “So...you’d like to…?” Justin throat released a sexual groan of obvious desire. “Oh, I’d very much like to, James. Very much indeed.” His hands moved down the front of James’s body, caressing him with slow strokes. He pressed his hard, muscular bulges against the smaller man and lowered his mouth towards his ear, whispering, “But that’s entirely up to you, James.” “Me?” The word came out as a gasp. “Yes, James. You’re in control, here. You’re in complete control. I’ll do whatever you want me to. I’ll only do that. I’ll do that for as long as you want me to. Because I can, James. I can do anything you want to with you for as long as you want me to.” James exhaled roughly. His imagination was running rampant. “I want to look at you.” “All right, James. Look at me.” Justin’s hands released James’s small body and the other man turned around. Justin loomed only inches from him, towering over him. He was nothing but muscle. Muscle and dark furry curls and smooth, silky skin that glowed in the dim light. His dark eyes looked down at James with need and desire and superiority. Or perhaps that was only what James read in them. James moved his gaze downward, over the huge man’s enormous chest and its two thick, fat nipples. He watched Justin breathing, watched his chest swell and receded, watched the perfect 8-pack of his bulging abdominal wall move as he breathed. He could feel the large man’s warm breath against his skin. He looked down. Justin’s fat prick was hanging nearly to his knees. Had it always been so large, so beautiful, so majestic? He had never seen another cock to match it, neither in size nor in perfection. The long, heavy shank was absurdly thick, and quite obviously firm. The head was half-covered in a wealth of foreskin, but as he watched, it drooped even farther down his leg and began to swell thicker, pushing the helmet out of its cocoon as the whole thing grew larger and longer. “I want to touch you,” James said. “Touch me,” Justin growled. James moved the back of his right hand against the monstrous appendage. It was warm - almost hot - and smooth as silk. It twitched as he touched it, responding to him, and began to grow hard and rise. James turned his hand around and moved the tips of his fingers along the shaft. Justin groaned, a deep and feral sound, and his cock throbbed hard. “Does that feel good?” James asked. “Yes, sir,” Justin answered. “Do you want me to continue?” “Yes, sir,” Justin answered. “I want to watch you get bigger.” “Yes, sir.” It was easy for Justin to obey, and as James grasped his meat, Justin allowed himself to swell larger and larger, growing until the girth of his monster began to pry open James’s fingers. The head of his massive cock blossomed like a ripening fruit, a bulbous perfect helmet that was becoming glossy as the skin stretched tighter and tighter against its unending and overwhelming development. The smaller man’s eyes widened as he watched his host’s prick continue to swell in his grip. It felt hot and hard as stone. He could feel its hard throbs as it grew, beating in time to Justin’s powerful heart. “Oh my god,” James whispered reverently, feeling and watching the huge man’s sex continue to swell. “Thank you, sir,” Justin rumbled. A shining drop of clear precum began to gather at the snake’s mouth, growing quickly and drooling down its length. Justin was shortly pumping a steady flow of his unending tide of honey, and it gurgled from the eye of his cock and poured down the sides, coating James’s grip in warm slickness. He began to stroke the massive erection, and was instantly rewarded with a resurgence of growth, unbelievable to him as the cock continued growing bigger and bigger. The smell of the powerful man in the room grew intoxicating and heavy. And his body began to grow. “What do you think they’re doing?” Karl wondered, looking towards the store. Mike said, “Gushing.” “What?” The huge blonde muscular teen smiled broadly and winked. “That’s what we call it, but we don’t say that in from of Justin.” “You mean Gushtin,” Cal added, also with a wide smile. “I don’t get it,” Karl admitted. “It’s a nickname. When we were in Muscle Club, before we came here, that was a kind of thing. Everybody got a nickname. Justin actually has a few, because he doesn’t like any of them so we kept changing it. First one was...The Hose?” “Hoser,” Manny corrected, “as in ‘hose ‘er down.” Mike nodded. “Then there was Juicer. Or just Juice.” “Honeydripper,” Calvin added. “Yeah, that was a good one.” “A little long.” “Not unlike the man himself.” “But...why all the nicknames?” Mike laid his heavy, thickly-muscled arm across Karl’s thin shoulders. “Well, it’s like this. Sometimes when a guy gets upgraded, he gets some special...individual thing. I mean we all get the muscles, the size, the strength, the overwhelming charm. But some guys get an extra.” “Remember Timebomb?” Calvin asked. All three of the huge teens sighed and smiled. “Fuckin’ A, Timebomb. Timebomb was amazing. When the Timebomb went off, everybody felt it.” He looked a bit forlorn for a moment, as if remembering something lost. “And Carl - not you, Karl, the other Carl, Carl Stanton - we called him Superman for a while.” “Because he was faster than a speeding bullet?” “On the contrary, if there was ever a guy who took his time, it’s our Mr. Stanton. No, Carl used to always wear this worn-out, sad-assed T-shirt he tried to stretch over his muscles with the giant S on it.” “When we used to wear clothes,” Manny clarified. “I think that goes without saying,” Mike added. “Anyway, when he finally outgrew the thing, we called him Peach, or Peachy, because his head was fuzzy like a peach.” Karl looked at Mike, “And what was your nickname?” Calvin and Manuel but started dancing this highly sexual, hip-thrusting step with their hands in the air and their massive cocks flopping around like loose firehoses. Then they both sang out, “The Stripper!” Then they high-fived each other. “Shut the fuck up,” Mike advised them. Karl had to grin. “The Stripper?” “This dude here,” Manny said, pushing his finger into Mike’s meaty chest, “has what we commonly call The Spurts.” Karl looked down at Mike’s cock. “No, you have me confused with Gushtin. Not that kind of spurt.” “Growth spurts,” Calvin clarified. “Some guys get bigger like that. Most of us just...keep getting bigger.” “You’re getting...bigger?” Karl found that hard to believe. But Calvin nodded. “All the time. We just keep growing.” “Bigger and bigger,” Manny agreed, and he lifted his right arm and bulged his mighty biceps into swollen glory. Karl watched the muscle fill up like it was being inflated - a perfect round ball of power mounted on his upper arm that split into distinct heads and pushed against his dark skin. “Bigger and bigger,” he grinned. “But some guys….” “Like Mike,” Manny said, nudging the blonde. “Get big all at once. Like...boom!” Mike grimaced. “Yeah, well, you’re just jealous.” “Anyway, so, one time in Science class….” “It was English,” Mike corrected. “Whatever,” Calvin said as he rolled his eyes, looking more like a teenager than ever. “So in English class, it happens because, like, you can’t control it, right? It just...happens.” “I can feel it coming,” Mike said, a bit defensively. “It is so. Fucking. Cool,” Calvin added. “So, he’s sitting there and he’s all, ‘excuse me teach, but can I be excused?’ And the teacher, who’s so not into us because we like the worst students ever, right? He goes, ‘No, Mr. Carlson, I believe you’ve had your extracurricular activity for the day.” Karl’s brow arched. “Extracurricular?” “Fucking,” Cal said simply. “So, anyway, Mike’s all, ‘but, I really, really need to be excused, please.’ And teach is all, ‘No way’ and shit. So...it happens.” “It happens?” Calvin nodded vehemently. “It fucking happens.” “I can’t help it,” Mike said, “and I did try to warn him.” “You got bigger?” “I got fucking enormous. I mean, there are growth spurts and there are fucking explosion spurts, and this was the latter thing.” “You...exploded.” “Mike, here, got so big so fast that he basically tore out of his clothes and ripped apart the desk he was sitting in and suddenly in English class instead of some over-muscled teenager with tight clothes and a constant boner….” “I was the Incredible Hulk, naked, seven feet high and sporting the hard-on to end all hard-ons.” “So what does he do, this guy?” “He fucking dances!” “I do,” Mike volunteered. “And I’m fucking good at it too.” To demonstrate, Mike started to dance, and damned if he wasn’t as amazing as his word. The man’s hips gyrated, his body was sinuous and elastic, he moved like his joints were oiled and Karl felt himself getting hot at the sheer blatant and unashamed sexuality that the gorgeous blonde beefcake started to display. “Go Mikey! Go Mikey! Go Mikey!” the other two chanted. Justin towered over James. As the smaller man reverently stroked his thick cock, he allowed himself to swell and grow, packing on the muscular size while his head slowly rose towards the low ceiling. Cables of new muscle swelled outward beneath his smooth, silky skin. His chest became two massive globes of power. His arms looked overwhelmed with brawn, in thick bulging balls and long, powerful cords. He was breathing slowly, his feral gaze locked onto the smaller man, and his body was growing warmer, literally increasing the heat within the small space. His scent grew stronger as his heat increased, and his cock was releasing a steady, thick stream of clear, masculine honey that draped down the towering majesty of his massive meat, slicking James’s grip as the young man applied both of his hands to the task. A low, deep groan of pleasure rumbled in the huge man’s chest. It sounded animalistic, like a tiger or a bear. “That feel good, sir,” Justin reported. James looked up into the incredibly handsome face of the seven-and-a-half foot tall mass of muscle under his control. “God,” he said, “you’re so beautiful.” Justin smiled and his cock swelled in James’s grip. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “So are you, if I may say so, sir.” “Me?” He nodded, tilting his chin down. “You are beautiful, sir. So beautiful. May I…?” He began to ask the question before stopping himself, as if he had overstepped his bounds. “What?” James asked. “May I kiss you, sir?” “Yes,” he allowed. Justin bent his face towards James, licking his lips slowly before pressing his mouth to the smaller man’s lips. It was a gentle, soft kiss, and it made chills shudder along James’s spine, tat such a huge and powerful man would kiss so gently and with such obvious care and devotion. Justin let out a soft gasp as their mouths parted, and James opened his eyes and saw the face of the handsome man cast in an obvious reflection of desire and satisfaction. James stroked the fat, massive cock steadily leaking lubricating honey and pressed their mouths together again, kissing the man with sudden fierce hunger. Justin’s bear paw wrapped around his neck, warm and smooth, pulling their mouths together as he pushed his tongue inside and kissed James back, matching his intense hunger with ease. “Oh, god,” James whispered, as the kiss ended. A warm gush of honey was Justin’s response, a flood of thick wetness that flowed over James’s grip, a very palpable and physical demonstration of the huge man’s pleasure. “I’m sorry, sir,” Justin rumbled. His sudden gush dripped from the small man’s hand. He must’ve release a pint of his warm, thick honey in one fat rush, pumping it up the heavy, thick inches of his meat without control. “Sorry? For what?” “I’m afraid I lost control for a moment,” he answered. “Lost control?” Justin nodded. “It’s...difficult to maintain myself around you. To control my impulses and...desires.” James smiled. “What...what do you want to do?” Justin smiled back. “But...what about Justin?” Mike stopped dancing and asked, “What about him?” “His nickname.” “Oh, that. Yeah, well, Justin has a particular...talent.” “A talent?” “More like a gift,” Calvin said. “Or a fucking miracle,” Manny added. “What sort of talent.” “Well, uh, it’s sort of two things in one. One is a talent - or maybe an aptitude. Justin is good with his hands.” “An understatement if there ever was one,” Calvin said. “His hands?” “He likes to rub them all over you. He likes to feel every inch of your skin, to feel your muscles...your body.” “He’s a sensualist.” “A what?” Karl said, “A sensualist. Sensuality. He likes to feel.” “I’ll say,” Mike agreed. “Sometimes I think he liked that more than fucking.” He considered something, then said, “You know, you’re right! When he’s with you, he doesn’t just whip it out, get hard, shove inside and start fucking.” “Like someone we know,” Manuel said, looking pointedly at Mike. “Hey, I like fucking!” “We all like fucking,” Calvin said. “But some of us like kissing, too.” “And stroking.” “And sucking.” “I get the point,” Mike said with finality. “But we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about Gushtin.” “So, he’s good with his hands?” “Not just good. He’s fucking amazing. Like...amazing.” “So?” “So, when Gushtin gets started, he really gets into it.” “And?” “No, dude. He REALLY gets into it. And when he’s into it, he starts gushing.” James was wrapped in the heavy, muscular arms of the most beautiful and largest man he’d ever seen. The man’s skin was warm and smooth and soft. The man smelled raw and sexy. The heat of his magnificent body was surrounding him, infusing his own skin, making his entire body throb with sexual desire. He had never felt so safe, so comforted, so perfectly in tune with another person. Within the man’s embrace, within his massive and steel-hard muscular caress, surrounded and overwhelmed and contained within his powerful frame, James was feeling simultaneously sheltered and powerfully turned on. He could feel Justin breathing against him. He could feel the pulses of his heart, beating with a strong steady rhythm. Justin was slowly and gently (at least for him) caressing and massaging James, moving his large, strong hands across the smaller man’s body, feeling every inch of him as he lulled him into a perfect state of trust and comfort. His eyes were closed and he painted a picture of the man’s body in his head, becoming so intimately familiar with him that he could pinpoint James’s every erogenous zone, where he shuddered when touched, or where he moaned, or where his cock twitched or his breath caught or his entire frame suddenly relaxed. He memorized the man’s body as he moved his touch across every inch. This was his talent, and the reason others longed to return to his embrace. After he was with a man, he knew that other man’s body perhaps better than he knew his own. He knew what to do, where to go, how to touch them and lift them to a level of flawless physical bliss before things even started turning sexual. His hands were tools of perfect pleasure. Squeezing, probing, caressing and rubbing, he could deliver hours of ecstatic rapture and seemed to draw as much pleasure from his caresses as he delivered. He groaned with bliss as he explored James’s body, and the man shuddered and swooned, nearly passing out from the sensation of Justin’s fondling and stroking. “Gushing?” “His cock.” “He starts cumming?” “No, not the white stuff. The clear stuff. The whatever..not the spermies.” “Ejaculate,” Karl said. “When he gets excited he pre-cums?” Mike nodded. “When Justin gets excited, he fucking spurts like a broken hydrant. I’ve seen him spontaneously gush a good six feet with enough honey to splatter a man’s entire chest in a glaze of sex. When he sees something he likes - someone he wants to touch - he just goes off like a fucking fountain. That thing snaps to attention and you can practically watch his cock bulge and pump and deliver these amazing fat gushes.” “It’s. So. Cool,” Manny added. “And it feels...fucking amazing.” “He starts to…?” Mike nodded. “He can’t help himself. And he’s a bit embarrassed about it, but when it happens, when you’re with him, and he starts the flow going and it’s all over your skin, this warm, slick goo that smells like sex and feels like heaven and he starts to massage you and caress you and kiss you as his dick fucking gushes these thick flows of honey all over the both of you and then...something happens.” “Something else?” Mike nodded. “Something amazing.” Karl looked towards the quiet store, “So they’re in there together and….” “And Gushtin is gushing. You jealous?” Manny asked. “Jealous!” “That James got there first?” Karl looked stupefied and Manny nudged him with his arm in a friendly manner and asked, “What’re you doing back here, Karl?” “I was...curious.” “What about?” “Just...you guys.” Calvin smiled, too. “Us guys? What about us guys?” “Well, I mean, who wouldn’t be curious?” He said, trying to dodge the question. “Lots of people wouldn’t be curious, and lots of people would,” Mike answered. “But what, in particular, were you curious about? About us guys?” “Like...you know.” “Like, what do we know, Karl?” “Like...about getting so…big.” His eyes glanced downwards. Mike made his pendulous, foot-long, inches-thick cock pulse. Karl had never seen anything like that, as if the powerful teen before him could easily control his cock, making it bulge on cue and swell thicker simply by willing it to be so. The other dude’s cock was visibly lengthening, crawling down his well-muscled thigh and adding inches to its already impressive dimensions. It was swelling with mass and veins as it grew. “Oh,” Mike said, “is that all?” “Yeah,” Karl answered dubiously. Calvin said, “Which one of us big dudes were you most curious about, Karl?” He turned towards the red head, who suddenly looked larger than before. His chest was a set of enormous muscular plates lined with cables of power, with two fat nipples drooping off the edge like peanuts. His milky skin was shiny with sweat, and his own monster was swollen and growing more rigid by the second. “Yeah, Karl,” Manny added. “Was there...anyone in particular you wanted to spend some time with? Discussing how...big...he is?” Karl shifted his attention again, and Manuel looked even larger than Cal. His dark-skinned body appeared to be growing even bigger as he simply stood there, doing nothing at all. “Dudes,” Mike said, with a slight sense of worry in his voice, “what about what Mr. Titus…?” “Mr. Titus said we should be friendly,” Cal answered. “I’m just being friendly to Karl.” “Me, too,” Manny agreed. “I’m just being really friendly. And I just want to be friendlier.” Karl gulped hard. Justin’s prick was in overdrive. True to form, he was not simply leaking gossamer threads or even drooling a steady flow of honey, he was now actively gushing thick pumps of precum that splattered and splashed against the man in his embrace as well as his own naked form. The room began to smell rank and raw. Justin’s powerful scent - and equally powerful pheromones - were literally soaking the room. His arms around James’s smaller body, holding his form against himself, he massaged and caressed and pleasured the other man in ways that James had never experienced. His touch was magical, and his body had never felt so good. And every gush of honey that soaked into his clothing and drenched his skin beneath made him feel better. A tingling sensation accompanied Justin’s gushing explosions, and it made James’s whole body feel like a stroked, hard-as-steel dick. A sudden, copious fountain of precum erupted up Justin’s amazing and colossal cock, splattering between the two men with wet warmth that bathed them both in the essence of sex. James’s small body shuddered with perfect bliss. Justin moaned and released another heavy cascade. The three huge men surrounding Karl were slowly growing ever larger and more beautiful as his heart began to pulse hard and fast. He felt hot and everything smelled like sex. “What’s happening?” he asked. Mike said, “Nothing. Nothing’s happening.” His voice dropped in register with every word. “Did you want something to happen?” Calvin asked. His cock was swelling into a monster. “Just tell us what you want, and we’ll make it happen,” Manny agreed. “Look. Dudes. I’m not gay.” They exchanged glances. Then Mike said, “So what?” “But...I’m not gay.” “You said that already. And I repeat; so what?” “We’re not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do, Karl. But we find it...curious...that you came back to visit us. Right guys?” Manny nodded and Calvin said, “Yeah, curious.” “We’re curious about you like you’re curious about us,” Mike said. “That’s all.” “About me?” Mike nodded. “You said you were curious about us. About us being big. And I want to satisfy your...curiosity. I want to satisfy you very, very much.” “We all do,” Manny agreed. “How can we satisfy your curiosity, Karl?” Calvin asked. “What, in particular, can I do?” “How did it happen?” “How did we get big?” “Yeah.” “It’s in my cum,” Mike explained. “Your cum?” Calvin cleared his throat. “It’s primarily in our cum, but it can happen in other ways, too, sometimes.” “So you…?” “If I cum in your mouth, you’ll start to grow.” “My mouth?” Calvin shrugged. “Your mouth. Your ass. Probably I could cum in your ear and you’d still start growing.” “But...how..?” He shrugged again. “Don’t know. But it’s 100% effective and guaranteed to work. So far, it’s worked on everyone.” “But...what happens?” Mike smiled. “This happens.” A miracle occurred in front of Karl’s eyes as Mike, and then his companions, began to swell larger and larger, rising taller and spreading wider and packing on pounds and pounds and pounds of raw, pure, perfect muscle. As they continued growing, each of the young super teens began to sprout a secondary cock from their thick pubic bushes that grew so quickly and so suddenly that it seemed to Karl that he was imagining all that was happening, but he knew it was real. Each of the teens, Mike and Manuel and Calvin, were growing bigger and more powerful and, incredibly, more handsome with every passing second. If Karl had regarded these guys as impossibly beautiful and incredibly powerful before, he had no words to describe them now. Mike was nearly eight feet high. Two massive shanks of sex meat hung in lush abundance, dangling over a foot long and as thick as Karl’s wrist. His face was incandescently gorgeous, perfected to a state that looked inhuman in its beauty. “This is what happens, Karl. This is what we all look like. This is what it means to be in Muscle Club.” “Muscle City,” Manuel corrected. Karl looked over and audibly gasped at the dark-skinned Latino’s handsome visage. His dark eyes looked like caramel, surrounded by thick lashes. His lips were pillows of obvious sensuality. His body was constructed of fat wedges and deep valleys and heavy nipples hanging from two massive plates of cabled glory mounted on his chest. He owned two pricks, as well, hanging fat over a set of hairless balls that looked as large as lemons and were visibly swelling as if each had a pump inside making it grow and recede. Karl looked at Calvin. His copper hair was now accompanied by a thick beard and mustaches that gave him an incredibly masculine air. His green eyes sparkled and his ready smile was incandescent. More copper hair sprouted in thickly across his massive chest and wound down the valley between his abs until it grew back into a forest that crowned his fat cocks, two creamy-skinned monsters whose plum-sized heads were cowled in masses of foreskin. He was monstrously huge, and seemed to glow in the sunlight. Now at their true forms, the three Muscle Citizens were releasing unfiltered clouds of masculine-scented pheromones. Their bodies were pumped hard and full of Transform’s pure power. Their balls swelled with hot cream waiting to be pumped up every thick inch of both cocks, and their libidos were topping out at eleven on a scale of ten. They were living, breathing embodiments of perfect male sex, with bodies overwhelmed with muscular power, ready willing and able to perform any task set to them with super efficient concentration and an eagerness to please. “Fuck me,” Karl said quietly. Mike tilted his head. “Is that a promise or an offer?” James had not yet removed a stitch of clothing. Thick, dark stains marked his shirt and jeans where Justin had oozed his love juices, a consequence of the deep pleasure he experienced as he explored another body, marking James with his essence and his scent when his cock swelled and gushed from pure sensual bliss. He would say, each time, “Apologies, sir,” and continue his caresses. The warmth of his honey bathed James in pure sex, and he was soon thickly lacquered in Justin’s copious flow of precum as it continued to stream from his massive shank of glorious fuck meat. James moaned and his dick throbbed. “Take...take my shirt off, please.” Justin applied his hands to the hem of James’ shirt and stripped it from him. It was sodden and heavy with the flow from Justin’s cock, redolent with his juice and his scent. He tossed it aside and it landed with a wet slap, clinging to the wall before its weight slowly made it slip to the floor.. James’s skin was slick and glistening, thickly coated in Justin’s honey. Justin reapplied his touch to James’s bare skin, and the absence of the smaller’s man’s clothing made their contact electric and fiery. He moved his talented, magical hands across James’s base flesh, groaning with pleasure. James said, “Take off my pants.” “Yes, sir,” Justin growled deeply. He sank to his knees and unbuckled James’s belt. He applied his hands to James’s jeans and unzipped them. He moved the heavy denim, soaked through with his own masculine nectar, down James’s legs to extract them from his body. James stepped from his flip-flops and stepped out of the jeans and heard them join his shirt on the floor with the same thick, wet slapping sound. He watched Justin rise to his full height again, and Justin embraced him in his strong arms, moving his hands down his back and onto his buttocks. He buried his face against the huge man’s hard chest, smelling his body’s sweet stink and breathing him inside. Justin was hot. Physically hot. As Justin’s hands grew near to the core of James’s body, a thick and sudden release of warm honey jetted down James’s legs from Justin’s massive prick. He gasped in unison with the superteen and closed his eyes when Justin’s magic touch finally found his hole and he lifted his leg, wrapping it over Justin’s hip to allow the talented fingers entry to him. His arms tried to encompass the huge man’s frame. He was as hard as a rock, but smooth and soft and silken to touch. Justin rubbed the wet warmth of James’s most intimate spot with a gentle devotion belying his size and power. He tenderly nudged and pushed and pleasured the smaller man’s softness, feeling him tense and release at the intrusion. James’s mouth - his lips and teeth - found the rubbery nub of Justin’s fat nipple and he teased it, licked it, prodded it, bit it. “Yes, sir,” Justin groaned and pushed his finger inside. His cock exploded with a gallon of honey. “They’re awfully quiet,” Karl observed, trying to change the subject. “Like I said, it’s an intimate experience.” Calvin asked, “What sort of...experiences do you like, Karl?” “Me?” he said, looking up. Cal nodded. “Yeah, what do you like to do? Because...y’know...I bet we could have some fun, too.” “Yeah,” Mike readily agreed. “Let’s have some fun!” Cal continued past Mike’s eagerness. “Do you like getting sucked? Would you like having your cock inside my warm, wet mouth, having my long, slick tongue licking every inch of you, having my strong hands squeeze you and tease you while my mouth sucks and licks until the tingles are too hard to resist and you start pumping your cream inside my hungry mouth?” “Maybe you like getting rimmed,” Manny suggested. “You like that? The warm wetness licking your taint and your hole, my talented tongue pushing inside and licking you out like an ice ream sundae? That feeling like having a slick, hot, wet dick teasing your backdoor, squirming in ecstasy while I apply my mouth to your hole?” “Maybe you’re like Justin,” Mike said, “since you seem to know about that. You a...sensualist, Karl? You want to feel my body? My muscles? You want to press your lips to my skin, kiss and lick me, every inch of this body? You want to tease my nipples and and move your touch across these massive bulges and feel what I feel like?” He smiled a lecherous grin, “because I would be so into that.” Feeling more than a bit intimidated by the huge men around him, naked and utterly unashamed and displaying their arousal with open lust and admiration, he said, “Why don’t you get started and maybe I’ll jump in when...I feel like it.” “That’s hardly fair to you,” Mike objected. “Yeah,” Manny agreed. “I mean, it’s not like there’s not enough to go around.” “Maybe he’s scared,” Cal suggested. “I mean, look at us. We could practically destroy a building.” “Practically?” Mike asked. “Well, I mean, we have destroyed a building but….” “‘A’ building?” “Okay, several buildings, but….” “But,” Mike insisted, “we’re just pussycats, Karl.” “Very large pussycats,” Calvin corrected, “but pussycats nonetheless.” “Maybe he wants it all,” Manny suggested. “But he’s too shy to ask.” “What about that, Karl?” Mike asked. “You want to rest yourself on top of this body, chew on my nips, lick the sweat off my neck, put your mouth on mine while Calvin sucks on your joint and Manny licks your asshole?” “I….” Both the men inside the store were covered in a thick coating of Justin’s warm honey. His cock was gushing as he embraced James’s small body, feeling every inch of him. His fingers were digging into James’s ass and his mouth was kissing his neck, his shoulders, his tongue lapped up the salty tang of his own slick lube as he explored his new friend’s body. James, of course, had never felt anything like this. The warm, wet cocoon of Justin’s constant flow bathed his skin in a sort of orgasmic tingling sensation. It was the most erotic and sensual experience of his life, and his cock was throbbing hard with constant blissful pulses. “You feel so good, sir,” Justin growled. “Kiss me,” James ordered. “Yes, sir,” Justin responded. He twisted the small man around in his arms and bent his lips to James’s mouth, granting him a soft, tender kiss. His cock gushed between them, a hot volley that warmed James’s skin and made fresh erotic tingles cascade down his flesh. He gasped and Justin groaned. “May I kiss you again, sir?” Justin asked, softly. “Yes,” James replied. Justin’s cock gushed strongly with happiness and desire and he kissed James again, holding his head in his hands as the wealth of his copious and seemingly unending flow of warm, rich, salty honey dripped off their skin. “Oh my god,” James sighed, laying his face aside one of Justin’s mammoth pecs, “I want to feel like this forever.” Justin smiled, rubbing his hand through the smaller man’s hair and said, deeply, “That can be arranged.” James looked up at the achingly handsome face. “Do it,” he said. “Are you sure?” James nodded and Justin’s cock fountained a thick stream of warm honey to display his joy at the other man’s request. “It would be my pleasure to welcome you to Muscle City, James.” “What should I do?” “You don’t have to do anything,” Justin explained. His copious flow of precum was now accompanied by the miraculous source of perfect masculine power, his utter blissful joy allowing him to release the initiator that would begin to infiltrate James’s genetic structure and remake him utterly. “You’re already on your way.” Part 7 “You’ve never done it?” Calvin McCloud, Muscle City’s resident biology and earth sciences teacher, paused in his labors to look over at his friend and fellow ex-high school teacher. “I never had the inclination,” Billy Titus reported. His huge, beautiful, muscular body was covered in a layer of dust and dirt, blending with the sweat that coated his glistening skin. Still, he was easily the most beautiful human being that Calvin had ever seen. The two huge men were positioned beneath the ceiling of the first floor of a two-story building with their large, strong hands grasping beams overhead. They were poised to push up against the floor of the second story and then pull it down, making the room ‘Muscle Club Sized’ to accommodate the larger, taller, broader bodies with which the new residents of the city were gifted. “You mean you’ve never had the opportunity,” his lover, Carl, responded. The three of them, along with Teddy St. George, another ex-high school teacher, and the ‘Golden Twins,’ Hank and Harry (who were often seen in the company of their favorite ex-teacher, Mr. St. George) had been clearing out the abandoned building in Muscle City, throwing disused furniture from its windows and doing their best to clear it of the refuse and dirt that had accumulated before opening the space up for habitation. Billy shrugged and returned his attention to the task at hand, the muscles along his shoulders, his back and his arms bulging fiercely as he signaled Calvin and they started to push upwards. “Same difference,” he said. The ceiling showered dust down on them as the two super-strong, 8-foot tall men began pushing up, breaking the entire floor from its moorings. The others were poised to catch anything that fell out of place, or to help protect the two strongest men in the room in case things went suddenly wrong. Tremendous creaks and loud cracks accompanied their labors as they slowly pushed upwards, breaking the entire floor out before pulling it all down. They found that this was the best - and safest - way to create double-sized rooms after attempting to stomp on the floors from above (which obviously meant that the floor and whomever was stomping on it all fell down at once) or trying to systematically tear it out in chunks. After testing their strength, and finding it to be nearly limitless - or at least much more powerful than any of them had imagined, even given their tremendous muscular size - and surviving trials that would easily kill any normal human body, they simply began ripping out entire floors with their bare hands. “When are you going to stop doing that?” Carl asked, looking at Billy’s wide back. His cock pulsed with sudden desire, wanting desperately to be lodged inside his lover’s warm, tight butt where heaven could be found. Billy could not pause in his efforts, and wasn’t looking at his lover’s handsome face. “When it’s no longer a ceiling, obviously,” he answered, pushing gingerly as plaster and paint chips rained down. “No, not that,” Carl said. “I mean when are you going to stop pretending you’re still above it all? You don’t have to pretend anything anymore, Billy. You don’t have to pretend you’re not….” “I know,” he answered softly, looking over his shoulder. “But some habits are hard to break.” Carl smiled warmly. “As long as you keep up one habit, I’m perfectly happy,” he answered as he slapped Billy’s ass resoundingly. “You boys need a moment?” Teddy asked. “Because I can do this by myself.” Which was undoubtedly true. Any one of them was strong enough, they had discovered, to easily demolish an entire building with a series of blows, kicks, shoves and running tackles, using their seemingly indestructible and superhuman bodies like battering rams, punching holes through concrete and tearing apart entire walls as if they were constructed of tissue paper. “Speaking of habits,” Billy said, glancing at Teddy, “when are you going to stop calling the rest of us ‘boys?’” “But...you are boys,” Teddy responded, almost innocently. Teddy had been an old man before Hank and Harry had changed him so utterly, gifting him with strength and power and youth. Now he looked like the rest of them - a robust, muscle-packed man in his mid-twenties, with long flowing locks and a cock that would choke the most experienced cocksucker on the planet. His skin was bereft of wrinkles, his eyes twinkled with energy and his body pulsed with the vigor of twenty well-trained men. “Looked in a mirror lately, Mr. St. George?” Harry asked, as Hank nodded and laughed gently. The floor overhead began to rip free of its connection to the walls. Things could get dicey very quickly at this stage, so Billy and Calvin worked together more carefully, moving their large hands outward and easing the entire floor of the building upwards. Teddy reddened. “You know what I mean, gentlemen,” he answered, watching the progress and readying himself to intervene if needed. His voice was now strong and deep and powerful, but his words and intonation still held on to the rather mild character that had endeared him to many of his students when he had been a teacher before...everything changed. “And I note that you still insist on calling me Mr. St. George even though….” “Even though we’ve fucked each other into next Sunday on several occasions,” Hank said. Then he, too, shrugged, adding with a rich laugh, “I like calling you Mr. St. George, because it reminds me that you‘re still teaching us.” “Everything is an adjustment,” Calvin stated. Though he was involved in Herculean labors, his voice wasn’t strained at all. “And change doesn’t come easily to any organism.” Harry and Hank both made faces. “Organism? I prefer orgasm, myself,” Hank offered. “I’m just saying that you really ought to give it a go, Mr. Titus,” Calvin advised. The floor overhead suddenly released itself from the walls with a hard, loud crack, and the muscles bulging beneath Billy and Calvin’s grime-coated and sweat-covered skin flared and swelled to take on its full weight, which had to be several tons. This was always the tricky bit, balancing the whole slab of wood and insulation and cement with their hands before “folding” it and breaking it into chunks they could more easily remove from the building. If any of them had stopped to consider the sheer lunacy of the act - that two men using nothing but their bare hands and super-powered muscles were holding up the floor of a building in preparation to break it down, they may have started laughing that this was anything but a fantasy. Teddy agreed. “Really, it’s quite...energizing.” “It’s fucking awesome is what it is!” “Fuck, yeah!” Harry agreed, high-fiving his brother. “Language, gentlemen,” Teddy said. “Sorry, Mr. St. George,” the twins replied automatically. Billy and Calvin looked at each other, nodded readiness, and then pushed upwards again and literally broke the entire tonnage into two pieces that cracked with a tremendous detonation before falling to the ground in a huge cloud of dust, splinters and broken glass - none of which was able to make the slightest dent or cut or bruise in any of the men’s new bodies. The men then began the process of breaking the floor into smaller chunks and moving those onto the street, where others waited to carry them away, hauling the car-sized chunks of broken building onto their own shoulders as if they were hauling sacks of flour, and walking away with two-ton slabs mounted on their shoulders. “It’s a bit of a shame that we left town so suddenly, in retrospect,” Mr. McCloud observed, clapping his hands and brushing the larger pieces of building from his naked torso. “Surely there would’ve been an opportunity or two for you to...spread the wealth, so to speak.” He looked at Billy. “It really is quite an amazing experience.” Billy said, “I’ll take your word for it,” as he picked up an overlarge piece of building and crushed it in his hands. “Oh, but you shouldn’t, dear boy! You really shouldn’t!” Teddy paused in his own deconstruction and looked at Carl. “Perhaps you two should go on a little...walkabout? I think there’s a thing or two the student could teach the teacher in this respect.” Now Carl was blushing, because he was, if anything, one of the most experienced initiators of all the young men in Muscle City. He’d personally welcomed dozens of the other residents into Muscle Club, and by all reports he was, indeed, a very accomplished upgrader, as the act was sometimes referred to. “No need to blush, Mr. Stanton,” the biologist said, “I’m sure Mr. Titus is well aware of your esteemed status among the boys.” Billy turned and looked at his lover. “Yes, Carl, why don’t you tell me a little about your esteemed status?” He tossed a cow-sized piece of the building out the open doorway. Carl’s blush turned even deeper red. “Well, it’s just that…. I…. That is, you know, when you couldn’t…. When we….” “Oops,” Hank said, grinning. “Sounds like at least one person in Muscle City wasn’t aware of Superman’s exploits.” “Superman?” Billy suppressed his mirth as best he could. It wasn’t often that he had Carl over a barrel, and he enjoyed watching his handsome lover squirm a bit and lose that ever-present veneer of confidence that he seemed to have been born with. “It was the shirt!” he reported. “Remember? That shirt I used to wear?” They continued to discard pieces of the floor as they talked. “The shirt,” Billy repeated, doubtfully. “It wasn’t just the shirt,” Harry said. “No need for modesty here, Carl. I mean, well, look at us!” He held out his arms to display the sheer nakedness of the men gathered together inside the dusty space. Indeed, there was literally nothing at all to hide between them. “You never told him?” Hank asked. Billy stood up and folded his arms across his magnificent chest. His pecs bulged up and out as if being inflated. “Told me what?” “Nothing,” Carl said quickly. “There’s nothing to tell.” He quickly picked up a piece of the floor - one at least as large as a king-sized bedd mattress - and flung it towards the door where another young man caught it as easily as someone might catch a football. “He looks so cute when he’s embarrassed,” Harry observed. “Maybe because it doesn’t happen very often,” Hank added. His twin brother nodded. “True. He does tend to be a bit self-righteous all the time.” “I’m standing right here,” Carl protested, his hands on his slim hips. It made his lats flare out like wings along his widely tapered back. “Told me what?” Billy repeated, looking at the twins. “Why we called him Superman.” “It was the shirt,” Carl growled darkly. “It started out about the shirt,” Harry said, “that’s true. He always insisted on wearing that sad rag with all the tears and rips, even as he kept getting bigger and bigger and it was holding onto his muscles by threads. He ripped the sleeves off, he ripped the neck out, he kept growing thicker and bigger and he kept on wearing that thing.” “A bit sad, when you think about it,” Hank said, tilting his head. “Though I have to admit there was something hot about it, too.” “Right? Because you could see...actually see him growing. It got smaller and smaller and he got bigger and bigger.” “And still he wore it, every fucking day.” “I liked that shirt,” Carl said, pouting slightly. “And…?” Billy prompted. He was now leaning against the wall, listening intently. His body was inflated with muscle from his labors, and the dirt and grime had worked into the deep valleys between every muscle head making him appear to be made of nothing but swollen bulges and thick cables of powerful brawn. “And finally one day he got too big for it and...his body ripped right out of it.” Hank looked at his brother. “Remember?” “Oh, fu….” He glanced at Mr. St. George, and corrected himself. “I mean, oh, gosh yes. It was so sexy.” He looked at Billy. “We had all been waiting for it to happen, right? You could see it just barely clinging to his body. His shoulders out to here, his chest out to here.” He looked at Carl and pointed at his chest. “He always had those big nipples and they were practically ripping their way out, pushing against the thin cloth to be free.” “It was so sexy,” Hank agreed. “So we’re all taking bets, right? All the Muscle Club guys. When is that stupid shirt finally giving up the ghost? When is Carl Stanton going to grow too big to be Superman anymore?” “I never said I was….” “So finally it happens. And it happens right in the middle of Carl upgrading...what’s his name?” “Benjamin.” Harry snapped his fingers. “Right! Benny! Carl is giving it to Benny….” “Like only Carl can,” Hank said. “Like only Carl can?” Billy asked, suppressing a grin. It had been Carl himself - along with a few of his muscular friends - who had originally upgraded Billy. Harry nodded, “...like only Carl can, and the shirt starts tearing away from his body.” “He’s literally Hulking out of it!” “You can hear it happen! You can hear that shirt giving up its fight as Carl’s muscles finally get too big to contain and he rips himself right out of it!” “And then it happens,” Hank said, quietly. “What happens?” Billy asked, looking at Carl, who by now was so red that he looked like he was on fire with embarrassment. “He, like, explodes or something!” “Explodes?” Billy’s eyebrow rose on his handsome face. “He never told you?” Harry asked. “Evidently not.” “As Carl’s muscles finally rip through that shirt, his cock fuc… his cock just goes off like some firehose or something! He’s, like, exploding with cum!” “Cum cannon,” Hank said. “Never seen anything like it.” “It was like all the time that shirt was holding something inside him, like it was a dam or a stopper or something, and when it finally released him, he just...exploded!” “They’re overstating it,” Carl protested. “No way,” Harry retorted. “We were there, Carl.” “We remember.” “And then Benny…” “Benjamin,” Hank said, “He prefers to be called Benjamin.” Harry waved him off. “Whatever. And then Benny, like, he just starts swelling bigger and bigger!” “Like, bigger than any of us!” “Way bigger.” Billy looked at Carl. “Way bigger?” Carl held up his hand, his index finger and thumb an inch apart, as he grimaced. “No, dude, he got….way. Bigger.” Hank mimicked the act of growing from the miracle of Muscle Club’s Superman. “Bigger and bigger.” “And then it happened again with...um...Darren?” “Dolph,” Hank corrected. Then Harry started counting them off on his fingers, “And Rogan and Steve and the other Steve and Andy and Nicholas and Amit and Joe and…” “The other Joe,” Hank added, nodding. “...and Jay and Alex and Patrick and Paul and Dylan…” “And Ivan and Jake and James and Stefan and Spencer and Shane.” “He gets the idea,” Carl said, darkly. “...and Ethan and Damien and Dan and Danny and Dave and...like..everybody!” “Not everybody,” Carl said. “And they all grew bigger than ever! Every one of them!” “Thanks to Superman. Who can make super men.” Billy was looking at Carl. Carl rolled his eyes. “They exaggerate,” he reported. “Not even,” Hank said. “He’s amazing!” Billy walked closer to Carl and tilted his head. Then he smiled. “I know,” he answered, before taking Carl’s face in his large hands and kissing him with obvious love and passion. “I know,” he whispered, softly. Carl exhaled and wrapped Billy in his arms and they kissed for a very long time. “Do...you boys need some private time?” Teddy asked, finally. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Billy asked. Carl shrugged, “Didn’t know what to say,” he answered. “You could have told me you were making Muscle Club even better, and you were welcoming in so many beautiful brothers and helping us become so much more than anyone ever dreamed possible.” He kissed him again, deeply. “I always knew you were special. I just never knew you were super.” Hank hung his arm across his twin’s shoulders and said, “Awww, ain’t true love grand?” Then he kissed his brother on the mouth. Harry received the kiss with equal love for his brother. “Fuckin’ A, bro. Fuckin’ A.” Harry looked at Teddy and said, “Sorry.” “I think, under the circumstances, ‘fucking a’ is quite appropriate.” The old man, who looked like a young man, smiled. Calvin was looking thoughtful. “Are we sure that Carl is the trigger, here?” Everyone turned to look at him. “I mean no offense to you, Mr. Stanton, but...Well, I’ve been doing a little research.” “Research?” Harry asked, making another face. “It’s hardly a dirty word, Mr. Johnson,” Calvin told the twin. “You’re not the least bit curious about us?” “Only about how many of us I can get together with,” he reported. “And how each guy fucks,” his brother agreed with their cute Texan twang. Calvin smiled. “I know what you mean,” he admitted, “but my curiosity runs in a slightly different direction.” “Well, not all the time,” Hank said, then he looked at his brother. “I’ve been with Cal - I know all about his curiosity regarding certain parts of this male’s anatomy.” He gripped his cock meaningfully and wagged it at the teacher. “At any rate,” Calvin said a bit loudly, “I’ve been doing some amateur research regarding us. How we get bigger, and why. I think we can all agree that it must have something to do with the Trumans.” “That’s likely,” Teddy agreed. “And it’s not quite true that you’ve never upgraded anyone, is it, Billy?” “Before I came here, I was only ever with Carl.” “But before that, when you were upgraded yourself, something happened.” “Nothing happened.” He looked at Carl, saying, “I’ve never regretted that day for a moment. I wanted it, very much. I...wanted him. I always did.” “Something did happen,” Carl said. “I don’t remember.” “That’s because you already had it.” “Had what?” Teddy asked. Carl looked down as he allowed his secondary prick to emerge. “You gave this to us that day,” Carl said. “After yours grew.” Calvin smiled. “And ever since then, you’ve only been with Carl, is that correct?” “Until we came here,” Billy agreed. Calvin looked at Carl. “And after you were with Billy, how soon was it before you began to super-upgrade the others?” “Like...pretty quickly. Almost immediately.” He blushed again, looking at Billy. “I just couldn’t help it. I was so horny! Whenever I was with you, whenever I got some time with you, afterwards I was just, like, Mr. Super Horndog.” “I’m not surprised,” Calvin said. “What are you talking about?” Billy asked. “Have you looked in a mirror lately, Billy?” He shook his head. “Not a lot of mirrors around, and anyway, why would I want to look at myself when there are so many other handsome men to look at?” “Holy fuck,” Hank said, a bit stunned. “So...you haven’t seen yourself?” He looked down. “Well, I mean, I know I’m bigger.” “Billy, you’re, like...you’re...you’re just….” “What he is trying to say,” Teddy reported, “is that in the local vernacular you’re the hottest fucking dude in the whole town.” “Me?” “Oh, fuck yeah,” Hank said. “What he said,” Harry agreed. Billy looked at his lover, and Carl shrugged, “I always said you were the handsomest man I had ever met.” “The point is,” Calvin continued, “that I don’t think Mr. Stanton here is the trigger to all the amazing developments that were happening. I think...it was you.” “Me? But I never even….” “And you,” Mr. McCloud said, looking at Carl, “were the carrier.” “The what now?” Calvin McCloud, high school biology teacher, smiled. All the pieces fell into place. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, talking with the boys, asking who they’ve been with, who upgraded them, who they upgraded. Trying to...map what happened. It’s very hard, of course. Not a controlled environment at all. And inevitably everyone gets with everyone else. But there is only one man in the whole town - in the whole club - who was only with one other man.” He looked at Billy. “And there is only one man, the man everyone called Superman, who seemed to be behind a lot of the substantial developments that made us all get bigger, stronger, and better.” He glanced from Carl to Billy. “And there’s no doubt that Carl had a huge effect on the entire developmental and evolutionary process that’s occurring. But it only happened sometimes, and only, it sounds like, after Carl had been with Billy.” “I still don’t….” Calvin pulled up a chuck of destroyed building and sat his perfect ass on it. “Sometimes, there are genetic mutations. Genetic anomalies. Sometimes these are bad. But sometimes they’re good.” He tilted his head, looking at Billy’s achingly perfect features. “And most rarely, they’re miraculous.” “Me?” “I think so.” “Why?” Calvin shrugged. “That’s just how it happens. Might be environment. Might be something in your own genetic structure. Parentage.” He shrugged again. Carl’s mouth fell open. “You mean...this whole time…?” Calvin nodded and said, again, “I think so. Billy is a super trigger. When Billy is with someone, he can upgrade them to a new level. And when someone is with Billy, they offer up the best of their own genetic mutations and he accepts them, filtering things out - or something.” They were all staring at him. “Well, it’s just a theory. But...the evidence speak for itself.” Billy shook his head, scrubbing his hand through his thick. curly locks, looking a bit sheepish. “I don’t think so,” he said. Sensing his friend’s discomfort, Calvin repeated, “It’s just a theory.” “Theory, my perfect ass!” Hank replied. “I mean…. Look. At. Him!” They did, as Billy began turning red under the layer of slick filth that had somehow managed to make him look even sexier. “Guys, I don’t think I’m anything special.” “There is an easy way to test this, of course,” Calvin said. “Which is?” Teddy asked. “Allow our friend here to upgrade a fresh candidate. We’ve all seen what he does when he’s with someone who’s already well on their way.” “So what happens to a new guy who gets the Full Billy, so to speak?” Carl asked, rubbing his chin. “Exactly,” Calvin agreed. “If my theory holds true, any man who Billy fully upgrades should be….” “What?” Billy asked. “He should be bigger than any of us.” “Bigger?” Billy asked, doubtfully. But Calvin the biologist nodded. “Bigger, stronger, better looking, better...everything. Carl here was turned into a muscle making machine after being with you. Every man he upgraded after exposure - pardon the word, but we’re talking scientific method, here - after exposure to you was super-sized.” “So if Billy ‘exposes’ himself to, like, some ordinary dude.” “Wham,” Calvin said. “Nice,” Hank and Harry both said at the same time. “Look, this is all just...conjecture. There’s no proof that I...that I can...that my….” “I think there’s ample proof everywhere you look, Billy. This entire town, every man here can owe at least part of who he is now thanks to you. Even if you aren’t the genetic miracle I think you are, you can’t deny that every other cock is due to you.” Calvin released his own twin, allowing the majesty of owning two monstrous cocks to play with and find pleasure in to display his own sense of overwhelming pride and male prowess as a member of Muscle Club and resident of Muscle City. The other men were suddenly sprouting their other cock as well, in a sort of salute to the man who made them. It was both entirely weird and perfectly suitable. If there was anything about the residents of Muscle City that truly set them apart, it was that secondary prick. Owning twin cocks was the truest proof of Muscle City habitation. Billy, overcome perhaps, released his own secondary dick, and it flowed down and inflated to full power in moments, shoving aside its brother for room as it sprouted thick and full and long from his powerful loins. He stood naked before his friends and lovers, his beautiful and perfect body covered in dirt and sweat, every muscle pumped to its fullest capacity, bulging outward by several inches, glistening like wet stone. Billy’s pungent and potent scent was very strong as his desire and pride grew hot in the room, and each cock began to inflate to its fullest glory, pulsing and throbbing as it rose higher and higher, drooling flows of warm, delicious honey. “I love you guys,” he said. “God, I love you.” Carl grabbed him in his embrace and kissed him hard. “We love you, too, you stupid man.” “I think,” Billy said, still in the arms of his extraordinary lover, “that maybe we do need to take a little field trip.” “Field trip?” Carl asked, genuinely surprised. Billy nodded. “Further Mr. McCloud’s research. Put his theories to the test. I’m sure there are some of our brothers out there. Brothers waiting to grow and be with us.” “And maybe you could help them along?” Hank suggested. Billy winked. “Maybe,” he answered. He looked at Carl. “Are you ready?” Carl smiled. “Ready for what?” “To get bigger?” Part 8 Mike moved his hand behind Karl’s neck. It felt warm and strong against Karl’s skin, and his head relaxed into the huge man’s capable grasp. Mike bent his lips towards Karl’s and kissed him gently, pressing the soft warmth of his mouth against the other man’s. Karl’s heart skipped a beat, surprised by the tenderness of the kiss and by the heat and strength of the man’s enormous body, as if he was radiating male energy because he could not contain it all inside of him. Karl’s dick surged with heavy growth, nudging itself against his jeans. As if feeling the sensation, Mike reached down to squeeze and stroke and caress Karl with his obviously talented touch. Karl’s cock pulsed and throbbed happily, and his whole body heated up. Hands surrounded his waist and fingers were undoing his belt and unzipping his fly. Another pair of hands - eager and hungry - dug down the seat of his pants and cupped his ass, then began to knead his flesh and rub expertly between the globes of his butt and push towards his hole. He gasped and swooned, releasing himself into the three men’s hands and found himself being stripped of his clothing outside in the bright sun. His shirt was unbuttoned and removed. Fingertips gently, playfully rubbed his nipples. His pants and underwear were ripped from him with obvious strength and desire, and he felt his hard-on throb and swell and rise with eager joy. Two, no three hands grasped him and stroked him and a mouth was on the knob of his cock, sucking and licking, and hands pulled his ass open and a tongue was lapping hotly at his hole, pushing inside him like a wet, warm, pliable dick. It was quickly and acutely obvious that these young men knew what they were doing, and that they were quite good at doing it. Stripped naked with quick efficiency, Karl found himself completely at their mercy and completely willing to be so. His body was being treated to the most thorough and detailed sexual pleasure - they were frankly doing things to and with him that had never even occurred to him, let alone occurred to him to try. Their mouths and hands and fingers and tongues seemed to be all over him, touching and stroking and licking and kissing him with utter devotion. And whomever was paying attention to his cock - and it felt a bit like they all were - well, they certainly knew exactly what they were doing, pulling him right to the edge of losing his load in an uncontrolled fury of splattered cream before releasing him and allowing his heat to cool to a controlled level before starting it all over again. He groaned and shuddered and whimpered and cried out from the onslaught of perfect physical bliss his body was being subjected to, and everything felt utterly amazing. The men servicing him were at least as turned on as he was, if the hot, hard pricks that slid across his skin were any indication. They seemed to be gushing fountains of precum with the same unending supply that they had attributed to Justin, though perhaps the fact that there were three of them (and, it felt like, twice that many cocks) was helping things along quite a bit. James was growing with slow steadiness. Justin fed him just enough Muscle Club magic to keep his body swelling with muscle in a constant, blissful course. He could feel his weight increasing and his muscle swelling and his cock growing heavier and heavier with every passing moment. The salty, delicious tang of Justin’s unending supply of warm honey continued to coat their bodies, and the sensation of pure sex that seemed to be infused inside that gushing fountain grew stronger and stronger, as if Justin’s own mounting need to explode with orgasmic bliss was being channeled into his warm, sticky flow. James could taste the power on his tongue and he began to lick and lap and suck the honey off their bodies inside his mouth, amplifying the effects and accelerating the effects of Transform on his body. He gulped and guzzled the thick, warm flow and it grew increasingly delicious, as his body adjusted itself to this new required food and began to change in the myriad ways that Transform required of any male body it came in contact with. His cock was buzzing with a constant sense of sexual bliss, and throbbed with hard, thick pulses as it continued to swell larger and larger. Its weight increased and became a glorious burden, lengthening and thickening by inches. His balls felt heavy as they inflated with the same seed that Justin was providing. His swelling muscles sang with sweet fire as they grew, splitting and breaking and building themselves bigger and bigger beneath his skin, increasing with strength that outmatched their size, creating another super-powered superman who could rip down a building with his bare hands. He gasped with uncompromising pleasure as his brain was flooded with endorphins, designed to overwhelm the torturous sensations of having his body broken and rebuilt. His bones were growing harder and thicker, extending themselves to allow more and more heavy muscular meat to be mounted on them. His flesh stretched to cover the muscle that kept growing larger and larger. He could feel his weight increasing, and his body slid upwards inside Justin’s embrace as he grew to the same size as the man who was utterly reconstructing his entire genetic structure. Transform was now so good at its task that it wasn’t long before James was the equal of Justin is size, strength and beauty. His twin cock pulsed alongside its brother and began pumping a thick flow of precum to equal Justin’s unending flow, and it gushed from both cannons and coated their skin. “Gonna cum,” he growled to his lover with a new heavy voice, thick with masculine power. “Oh, fuck, I gotta cum so hard.” Justin sank to his knees and pulled both cocks inside his mouth and prepared for James to explode. His body was ready for this, needed this more than anything, and he hungered for the majesty of James’s first volleys of supercharged cream. James fucked Justin’s face, holding it in his large and still growing hands as he suddenly let loose with a flood of cream, roaring with intense pleasure. He could feel his thick load swiftly travel up the heavy inches of each prick as the sound of Justin sucking and guzzling and swallowing every drop echoed through the room. Justin moaned with overwhelming bliss as James’s powerful first eruption shot from his cocks down his throat, and he could feel the warm power of another Muscle City man begin to fill his body with renewed energy. The three naked men surrounding Karl were kissing, stroking and rubbing his body, his mouth, his cock and his ass with equal talent and finesse. Their cocks were in overdrive, rubbing hard heat against his own naked flesh and it made his prick pulse and throb hard. The sounds of moaning, kissing, slurping and sucking were accompanied by the occasional “fuck yeah,” or “so fucking good.” The men’s voices, deep and powerful, seemed to penetrate him in a very agreeable way, and drove his libido into overdrive. “Gotta cum,” he said out loud. “Do it bro,” one of his lovers responded. “Fucking cum in my mouth.” A warm wetness surrounded the entirety of his hard-on and clamped down, sucking and licking against him. He started to pump his load in thick jets, squeezing against the fingers inserted inside his ass as he emptied his burdened balls of their thick, sticky cargo. Something hot and wet splashed on his skin, onto his chest. Then another splattering warmth struck his back, and his butt. A shower of wet warmth began to splash on his skin as his trio of lovers released their own heavy streams, coating him utterly. “Dudes,” someone said, “he didn’t ask….” “It’s too late, Mike. I can’t stop.” The mouth came of his cock and another thick blast of hot wetness struck his belly. “Me, neither. I gotta...oh, fuck, I gotta….” His body was being bathed in thick blasts of sticky cream. Justin swallowed James’s first transformed flood of cream and felt it sink into his body to feed his ever-present hunger. It nourished his muscles and fed his strength and he felt its power spread through his body and branch out into his limbs. He gulped the thick pumps easily, opening his throat and feeling the syrupy heat enter his body. He released his own secondary cock and both were flowing steadily with thick rivers of his honey. James opened his eyes and looked down. All he saw was muscle. His chest pushed forward several inches, coated in a thick forest of dark curls matted under Justin’s flood of man honey. A sudden fountain of gooey pre shot up his body from Justin’s cannon and splattered against his skin warmly. He came, pumping a flood of cream inside Justin’s mouth. He looked at his arms, watching thick veins wind down under his shining, slick skin like tributaries feeding his muscles with more power and came again, the sheer sexual joy of seeing so much pure strength swelling along each limb making him erupt. He reached up and twisted one of his new fat nipples. A gasp left his throat as a shock of intense sexual bliss rocked his entire body. He reached up and grabbed his other nipple and pinched them both, resulting in an even stronger, almost unbearable eruption of pure orgasmic joy that made his cocks explode with cum. James looked down at his biceps, and he came again, reveling at their sheer size, their perfection, their power. They grew as he looked upon them, the round balls of brawn inflating with fibers of intense power. He licked his muscle and swallowed more of Justin’s salty tang, feeling it flow down his throat delivering its sexual tingle all the way down. He arched his head on his powerful neck and tortured his nipples and came gallons of cream that Justin eagerly and happily swallowed as his own twins continued fountaining thick jets of his hot honey, splattering and splashing both their bodies in the curious sexual tingling that he delivered in every drop. Karl licked his lips and tasted something he’d never tasted before. It tasted a bit funky at first, thick and salty but just as quickly something made him crave it. It touched his tongue and seemed to spread its warmth all over the inside of his mouth before disappearing - and then all he wanted was more of it. Something splattered on his chin and cheek. He reached his tongue out to capture it and licked it off his lips, sensing that same pungent, salty tang that spread all over his mouth and disappeared. His body - his entire body - throbbed. Hard. It felt like the earth had moved. It felt like someone or something had shoved him from every direction. It felt lie his entire frame had grown one size larger in in a heartbeat. And then it happened again. James’s head brushed the ceiling of the little empty store. The walls and floor and each of the two men inside were soaked with the unending flow of Justin’s magic cocks, and the place reeked of sex and men. James breathed in that heady perfume with deep inhalations and it warmed him and soothed him and re-energized his swollen , throbbing libido. The sounds of Justin sucking his cocks was loud, a wet, hungry noise accompanied by deep rumbles of obviously blissful groans of satisfaction. Justin’s large hands moved all over his slick skin, caressing and stroking him as if to coax more cream from his overactive balls. He closed his eyes and sighed and felt himself pumping thick, continual loads of cum into Justin’s mouth. He could not seem to stop cumming. He dd. not seem to want to. The hard orgasmic rushes of sexual bliss were still making his whole body light up from the point of the other man’s mouth, and he pushed his hips forward and came again. And again. And again. Justin’s powerful hands moved down James’s back and kneaded the muscular mounds of his butt before they pried the man open and his fingers nudged and rubbed and pushed inside his hot hole, and suddenly James needed to be fucked, and he needed to be fucked right now. He opened his eyes and pushed Justin’s mouth off his erupting cocks and physically lifted the other huge man to his feet as id he weighed nothing at all. He kissed his mouth hard and deep, shoving his tongue inside to wrestle with his lover’s. Then he looked Justin in the eyes and said, “Fuck me.” Justin smiled before he grabbed the new wide, muscular shoulders of the other Muscle Club member’s huge frame and pivoted him around. A fountain of cream erupted from James’s twin cannons and splattered the walled with white. Then Justin pushed him over, shoved him to all fours, dropped to his knees and pushed his tongue inside James’s ass, rimming his hole like he was born to it. James squirmed and groaned and shot again and again, feeling the other man’s hungry and talented mouth doing things to his ass that he’s never felt before. And just before he began to beg to be fucked and fucked hard, he felt the mouth leave his tingling, warm, wet hole and he was suddenly filled to overflowing with two fat cocks that immediately released gallons of hot cream inside him and he shouted from pure bliss. Karl was growing in sudden swells, as if someone was turning up a the magnification on his body and it was filling in with more muscle at each twist. Bigger, then bigger again. He was not slowly increasing with a steady growth of power, it was suddenly exploding outward in huge doses and each time it happened, he was bigger than before. It was a shocking to see and feel. The other three could only watch in wonder and awe as they continued to feed the man’s swells with their flows of cum, suffused with the power of Transform to change another man utterly into his perfection. “Fuck, dudes,” Mike said. “I know,” agreed Cal. “You ever seen this before?” Manny asked. Mike shook his head, grinning broadly. “Fucking cool, though,” he admitted. “I know, right?” Calvin scratched his scruff of red hair and his eyes grew round when Karl groaned and suddenly grew thicker with muscle and a few inches taller in a sudden uncontrolled explosion of growth. It was obvious that whatever was happening to him, he was enjoying it. “Should we, like, get someone?” Mike looked at Manuel and shrugged. “What could they do?” “I mean, just to see if this is, like, normal or something?” Mike looked down as Karl’s cock suddenly pushed forward two inches and swelled larger in girth and a thick volley of cream erupted from the tip and splashed against him. “I know what I’m going to do,” he said just before sinking to his knees to swallow Karl’s erupting cannon and hungrily swallowing his load. “Fuck,” Cal said. “What?” Manny asked. “Wish I’d though of that.” They both looked down and as if answering a prayer, Karl’s second cock - huge and juicy and fully formed - thrust itself from Karl’s furry loins in a sudden, single growth spurt, swelling into its fully-formed perfection to spit a long, sweet rope of cream to celebrate its birth. Then they looked up and both threw their hands at each other. Cal threw Paper. Manny threw Rock. “Awwww,” he said, sadly. Calvin shrugged. “Fair is fair, dude,” he announced before dropping next to Mike and taking the new cock inside his mouth. Manuel folded his arms across his massive chest, watching his two brothers feeding off the quickly developing new member of Muscle Club as, with every minute that passed. Karl kept suddenly swelling larger and larger. “Well, fuck,” he said, a bit sadly. Then Mike was wiggling his sumptuous and tasty ass at him, and a great smile broke out across his handsome face. Justin pistoned his hips slowly, steadily fucking the huge and beautiful man he had created. He moved his hands across the muscular expanse of James’s back, feeling his new muscles flexing and bulging as he squirmed in utter bliss under the onslaught of Justin’s expertise. Justin closed his eyes to allow his other sense to luxuriate in the sensations he was experiencing - the scent of James’s ass, the heat and wetness surrounding and welcoming his cocks inside, the slow, deliberate, constant growls of pleasure that James was releasing from his vast chest, the feel of James’s skin and muscle under his palms, the slick wetness that coated his new progeny, a gift from his own miraculous and constantly leaking pricks. “Oh, god,” James moaned. He bit his lip to suppress a scream of absolute perfect physical bliss. He felt Justin’s massive cocks sliding in and out with an intensity that nearly drove him mad, felt the other man nudging his prostate and pushing fat loads of cum from his balls, traveling up the fat inches of his cocks, splattering against the floorboards. The room was suffused with the scent and heat of the two men. It sagged with their power and groaned with their weight. “Fuck me,” James begged. “Fuck me harder.” Justin grinned and bent to wrap James in his muscular arms and quickened his pace, shoving himself in and out of James’s delicious, perfect ass with the pace of a jackhammer. “Fuck me harder, fucker.” “Yes, sir.” Karl swelled again. Mike and Calvin felt his cocks lengthen in their throats as he pumped a fat, fresh fountain of cum inside them. It warmed and empowered their miraculous bodies, feeding them what they wanted most. Manuel was fucking Mike in the ass, watching what was happening to Karl, gasping and enthralled with the man’s continual cycles of growth and he swelled suddenly larger and larger. He watched his chest swell forward, drooping with a sudden influx of meat. He watched his shoulders broaden and build. He watched his six-pac stretch to allow another set of abdominals to appear, and he watched Karl’s face grow increasingly handsome, shifting with every sudden growth spurtL his jaw growing wider, his nose broader, his brow heavier, his hair thicker. He was becoming a seriously beautiful man. He gulped in air and his arms - growing thicker and more powerful every minute - hung at his sides. He was shaking, but whether from the power of his growth spurts or the intensity of pleasure he was experiencing, Manny couldn’t tell. Karl suddenly opened his eyes and a feral, animal look was in them. “Here it comes,” he growled, and then he smiled. “What?” Manny asked. “Everything.” The building was creaking with a strange menace. The two men inside were engaged in a prolonged, very thorough fuck session. Their combined weight was easily over 1,200 pounds or pure muscle and thick cock. “Harder,” James ordered. “Yes, sir.” The sound of wood splintering was unmistakable. The floor cracked. The roof groaned. “Harder.” “Yes, sir.” Karl’s body erupted with the final, sudden growth cycle. It struck his body like a detonation and the threw his arms out and pushed his chest forward and shouted with pure, undeniable power. His cocks exploded, sending gag-inducing floods of cream inside Mike and Cal’s gulping, greedy mouths. They were physically thrown off his spouting super-cocks, carrying Manny with them as the three of them landed on their perfect asses and watched the final cycle overwhelm Karl’s body and deliver him to his p