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Found 75 results

  1. GROWTH IN A BOTTLE (AKA SPECIALTY LUBRICATION/LUBRICATION CORPORATION) Raymond’s company is a start-up in the sex toy industry, but he has obtained the rights to an independent developer of a new lube that men can use on their junk. He hasn't tested it yet on any of his clientele, but he may after talking with the inventors. He tries to stay in shape because he knows that he may have to show off his body to test out his new products. His office is located right in the heart of the sex industry and knows that things will most likely pick up once he gets past the preliminary stages of testing the product. The inventors come to visit a few days after being contacted. After saying their hellos, they give Raymond a sample of their lube as soon as they come in the door. He is taken aback by the way they look. They appear to be together, one being a huge hairy bull most likely Greek with a statuesque frame under all of that hair and his partner is notably French with Arabic features. Raymond is amazed at how beautiful they are and are very flattered to hear it from him. They chose to develop the product with his company because they feel like he would be more open to suggestions and wouldn't give them attitude. Raymond tells them that he hopes they can sign a contract as soon as possible, but they caution him to try the lube out first before he considers developing it. He notices in the little packages that they appear to be a red color. He finds this to be rather peculiar, but also quite fascinating. They admit to him that it is their favorite color and wanted to give the lube a different look. He leads them into a room and tells them to sit in the front row so they can get a view of him trying the lube out. They both smile as Raymond takes his shirt off to show his nicely chiseled chest. The Greek man, Constantine, leans over to his French boyfriend, Julian, and jokes that his body resembles one of his exes. They laugh out loud and say at the same time for him to continue. Raymond unzips his pants next and pulls them down showing off his great quads. Both the men lean down in front of him to rub his legs and feel the thick striations. Raymond is nervous but a little turned on too since he has to use the lube. He pulls his underwear off next as his cock bounces in the air. Julian stands to take the lube packet out of his hand and squeezes its contents into his own. He rubs the red liquid into Raymond’s cock and says to relax as it works its way in. He looks puzzled as to what this might mean. Julian goes to sit down in his seat and wants you to go stand against the back wall so him and his partner can see how it will work. After moving back a bit from his podium, Raymond begins stroking his cock and notices the red tint from the lube is disappearing. He can even feel something stirring from within his crotch. He stops stroking and notices his cock now bouncing without any sort of touch. The feeling is unreal because it feels like someone is trying to stretch it out. He can now notice the base of his cock thickening and growing from inside. The inventors have already started to take their clothes off as the metamorphosis begins. They start to beat off feverishly because they know what is coming next. The lube is now traveling throughout Raymond’s body and is starting to take over his muscles. His legs are now frozen as they begin to stretch outward as his quads become more vascular. His abs are growing wildly with thick striations appearing while it moves quickly up to his pecs. The pain is awful but he loves the sensation he is feeling too. He watches eagerly as his pecs fill out. His nipples are rearranging themselves creating unusual feelings from within him. He then watches his biceps blow up into huge mounds as well as his triceps and shoulders. His biggest surprise may be his forearms because he always had trouble growing them before, but now he feels an intensity coming from them. Those weak muscles that were there are getting pumped up and growing rapidly, stretching the skin and making crazy sounds. His butt is much larger now too as well as his back getting insanely wider. Constantine and Julian start staring at each other and winking because they automatically knew this would happen. The Frenchman wants him to come closer so he could feel your new body. Raymond’s huge tool almost hits him in the face which makes him locks his lips on your cockhead. The sensation is so intense he shoots a small load into Julian’s gullet and makes him shutter. Constantine pulls his cock out of the Frenchman's mouth and puts it in his next. He starts slowly sucking and Raymond shoots a load into his mouth. He realizes what effect this lube has on guys now and can't wait to get it prepped for the public. The two inventors don't want this mass-marketed though, and recommend to Raymond to offer it to a select group of men. He agrees that this kind of result can only be sold to hardcore size enthusiasts. He waddles his way back to the podium he was at in front of Constantine and Julian, as he sees both of them start to writhe in their chairs. The thick Frenchman starts to growl in his low voice as his chest starts stretching making room for his growing muscles. Raymond is shocked to see this transpire despite his own major growth spurt. Julian laughs as his legs swell up and break the chair he is sitting in. The same is transpiring with his Greek lover as the hairy stud appears to be hulking out himself. His perfectly laid abs are growing wider and more pronounced. His pecs are swelling up and forming bigger nipples that seem to come out of nowhere. Raymond goes over to start massaging them since he has never seen such a sight before. He can’t help but to start sucking on them hoping that they can give him some kind of reward. Constantine moans and grabs him around the waist to keep him in that spot. The two growing Europeans are now making love to each other worshipping their massive physiques. Constantine’s massive tool eventually finds its way to Raymond’s puckered hole and slowly parts it open to make it stretch. He keeps working the growing Greek’s huge nipples and feels the big man's body continuously expanding making Raymond have to sit on his leg. He pushes further into him, making him feel the power of his tool. Julian starts rubbing his cock and strokes it as he moves his huge cock down to Raymond’s already filled hole. His hole gets stretched further as the Frenchman squeezes his cock in with Constantine’s. He yells in pain as the two inventors are both fucking him. Julian pulls out and grabs another packet of lube in his pants pocket sitting beside his broken chair. He rubs it all over his cock and puts it back into the side he penetrated before. Raymond feels his hole getting wider as the Frenchman pushes his way in to be with his lover’s huge cock. They start grinding inside him and kissing each other at the same time. He can't believe this is happening, but the lube obviously has something in it to make this occur. He feels both of them tightening up their balls as they get darker. Raymond pulls them out of him and says he wants to stroke both of them to orgasm at the same time. He stops sucking on Constantine's nipples to worship both of their cocks. He gets the two studs focused on their breathing as he gets them into the same rhythm. The feeling of their sexual power in his hands as their huge members pulsate makes Raymond moan in anticipation of what comes next. He stares as both of their cock slits gape open ready to pour out their contents. His tongue moves back and forth between them as he strokes both cocks simultaneously. They moan and groan loudly as he keeps putting them on the edge. He can feel the cum flowing up and down both shafts as he smells the aroma. He smiles as he pumps both men to climax as the cum starts pouring on to his face and chest. He shoves your lips onto both cocks and drinks the muscle cum. Raymond swallows every drop as it rolls down his body. The two inventors lean down to lick the remainder off of Raymond before lying on the ground completely drenched. He starts to notice that the two Europeans are shrinking after dumping their loads. He hears odd sounds coming from both men as they revert back to their original size. The same appears happening to him now as he looks down at his muscles. It is at this point that Raymond realizes this lube has a temporary effect. The three men go to take showers in the back of the facility before talking business. They state their price to Raymond and want to be heavily involved in how the formula is put together. They know in its current state that it will only last until the recipient cums. They want to make it more permanent, but again stress that this must only be sold to a small group of men. Raymond agrees with this proposition, and the men broker a deal to work together.
  2. Chrismac29can graciously allowed me to expand his story King Leonidas eats Hulk for breakfast, found at https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/HulkSmashed/conversations/topics/85 Zeus' Folly, Hulk's Pain by fillups and chrismac29can King Leonidas of Sparta sat among his men as they feasted furiously. Beast-like, he tore a piece of burning flesh and devoured it Was it the cattle or the meat of some other beast? Leonidas found he cared not. He sought only to fill the ravenous hunger of his body. Though Leonidas was king he sat among his men not above them because of the incredible changes that had been wrought, his view was above the rest. He watched his men savagely tear into the carcasses of the various beasts on the battlefield, reveling in their victory over the Persian army. The multitudes of the Persian army had been brutally slain to a man and yet not a single one of the 300 who had defended Sparta had fallen. It seemed like an eternity ago but on the previous day, Leonidas and the mighty 300 had been on the brink of annihilation by the Persian army. Inspired by the bravery of the Spartans, the futility of their last stand and especially by King Leonidas, the God-King Zeus had intervened just before the Persian army had overrun the brave Spartans. Zeus had intended to endow each of the 300 soldiers with the powers close to that of the gods. It was not within his power or his intention to bestow god-like powers on mere mortals but the bravery of the Spartans was such that he was bestirred to grant something to even the odds of this awesome and fatal act of bravery. To each man he sought to grant the strength of fifty men, near a hundredth of the enormous strength and power of his offspring Herakles. Also the speed of fifty gazelles or rather near a tenth of the speed of the god Hermes., and finally a portion of the battle savagery and skill of Ares. For Leonidas, Zeus intended to receive double of each of these gifts such was his affection for this potent king. However the workings of the universe are even beyond that of the great god, for the men's intense loyalty and bravery charged the atmosphere around them. Even as they faced certain death the men were suddenly surrounded by the white hot glow the god king's power. Such was the intensity that the Persian army was momentarily blinded. Even Zeus himself could not perceive what was happening to the 300 within the glow. When the glow faded, Zeus was taken aback. For instead of granting the men a portion of the gods' powers, each man was fully endowed with the powers of the gods. Nay far beyond the gods' power. For instead of a mere hundredth of Herakles glorious strength the men were imbued with twice Herakles might. The same for their speed, savagery and battle skill. All double what the gods themselves possessed. And Leonidas, such was the strength of the adoration of each and every one of his men he himself was filled with the power of all 299 of the godlike super powered Spartans that followed him. The bare muscular torsos of the men around him were expanding, growing huge with muscle. The muscles rippled and glowed in the fading of the supernatural light. Each of the men were larger and more muscular than the massive Herakles himself. Leonidas himself stood half a foot again taller than the men around him, almost 7 feet tall. His beard and hair grew ever more wiry. His chest and legs sprouted a dark coating of hair. His monstrous shoulders rounded wide out to his sides pushing the men away from him. Veins ran like lighting bolts coursing across the wirelike striations of his muscles. HIs pecs bulged outwards like an enormous shelf over his powerfully muscled abdomen, thick, thick with muscle His arms dwarfed the trunks of the oldest woods in the gods own forest. His forearms twice as thick as the hulking legs of his own soldiers. Terrible and awesome his arms hung far off to Leonidas' sides pushed away by their own incredible mass and the width of his mammoth lats. The teardrop shaped muscle on his thighs bulged ever thicker even as the muscle was cleaved by striation after striation. The incredibly muscled men around Leonidas looked like small boys in comparison with the colossal muscle size of their beloved king. The mountain of striated muscle that was Leonidas moved forward in a graceful and quick motion. In a voice that cleaved the air and rattled the heavens with the power of a multitude of thunderclaps Leonidas roared, "CHARGE!" The Persians were deafened by the noise and had only seconds to react as the 300 megaliths of muscle moved into battle. The Persian army was spread out for miles with an almost limitless number of skilled warriors. To a man these warriors were to meet a gory end before the hour was through. Hundreds of men died almost instantly pierced by javelins hurled with such force they traveled for miles through the ranks of the Persians, as if their thick armor and bodies exerted no resistance at all to the weapons. The Spartans moved with such speed even Zeus with his divine vision could only glimpse a blur of motion and the flash of a sword as the soldiers raced through the suddenly terrified ranks of the vast opposing hordes, easily hacking Persian bodies to pieces. In a panic, the Persians loosed the wild beasts---the rhinoceroses, the elephants to dash in and lay waste to whatever living creature they encountered. The animals lumbered forward trampling hapless soldiers on their way to the battle maelstrom. As the beasts rammed into the Greeks the beast roars gave way to squeals of pain as they were bodily flung by the soldiers. Leonidas hurled fourteen of the animals almost as once. The animals smashed into phalanxes of Persian soldiers reducing them to mixtures of human and animal gore where nothing living remained. From atop the giant golden dais that served as his throne, Xerxes stared at the field in rage and disbelief as his vast force was being consumed by a bronzed cloud of death. They had been about to destroy the obstinate Spartans!!!!! He saw thousands of his minions fall to the fast moving cloud that was the Spartan army. In the cloud's wake, nothing moved. All was death and devastation. Within moments of spotting the Spartans the cloud was suddenly upon his golden throne. His troops were brutally smashed almost before he realized what had happened. Suddenly the ferocious sounds of battle stilled and Xerxes gazed upon the prodigious men that were the army of 300. They stood ranged around his throne staring up at him. Dwarfing the rest was King Leonidas his pale skin covered in the dripping blood of thousands. His green eyes cold as he beheld Xerxes. In an act of bravery and foolishness the nine foot Persian king leapt from the dais to attack Leonidas with his royal sword and the sharpened claws on his hands. The giant king crashed into Leonidas steely frame like a wave crashing against the Spartan rocky coast The Spartan King budged not an inch while Xerxes bruised and broken body crumpled to his feet. Xerves forearm had fractured as it has come down on the muscle of Leonidas's unforgiving shoulder. His sharpened claws had shattered trying to penetrate his hard, sinewy neck. Xerxes moaned in pain as Leonidas walked forward, his bare feet crushing the bones that littered the battleground. Xerxes gasped and looked backward to see the King grip underneath the front end his war-dais. He whimpered and pissed himself as the biceps of that arm peaked into a mountain of hard muscle much larger than the size of the king's own head. Leonidas single arm raised the massive platform into the air easily as if Leonidas were picking up a light spear. The dais was now balanced vertically in his god-like grip. Unintentionally Xerxes felt his cock submissively spew his seed as Leonidas stood over him with the dais held cradled easily in his grip. Leonidas wielded the dais like a club and squashed Xerxes flat. The titanic king tossed the dais aside. It's great weight smashed a deep crater into the earth where it landed. Leonidas sniffed in disdain at the remains of the once mighty army around him. He felt no need to honor the brave dead, only disdain at their weakness. He then stuffed the shattered remains of the former Persian King into a wooden barrel, and then hurled the barrel over the horizon. With the new power he was imbued with, he knew the his throw would send the barrel down in the middle of Ecbatana, the Persian empire's capital city as a grisly sign to any successor of the dangers of confronting his might. Leonidas savored the memory of the savage joy he had felt at that moment of triumph in his mind as he ripped another piece of meet from the bone he was eating from. He knew he had been deeply altered not only the enormous physical change but within as well. Where once all he could dream of was coupling with his beautiful wife, now the thought gave him no pleasure. He still felt affection for her and appreciation for her beauty but no desire for her filled his loins. Instead he looked at his men with newfound pleasure and love. Oily juices from the massive slab of meat coated the rippling muscles of his powerful forearm, as his teeth ripped flesh from the bone. Finishing off the hind leg like it was a chicken wing, he marveled at the hunger that consumed them. This hunger extended not only to food but also other carnal desires. He watched his men fuck each other with wild abandon and he found the coupling of his men to be the most beautiful sight to ever greet his eyes. He stroked his dark beard in appreciation that gave way to a sadness. His own enhanced power was so great he would now cripple or kill any man he sought to ravish, even men as strong as his soldiers. Nevertheless he pulled out his mighty organ fully thicker than a stout tree branch. He gripped it's hot veiny width with his big hands and stroked himself at the sight of his men's copulation. His phallus had not only increased in size but in the pleasure it gave him. He moaned out loud shaking the very mountains with his cries of ecstasy. A fountain of hot cum showered from the skies on to the men bathing them in Leonidas' seed. Zeus looked down at the speed, the ease and the completeness of the Persian army's defeat with no pleasure. Such power was beyond him and all the gods of Olympus. What had been created here? He felt himself shaking with something he did not recognize. Fear. Fear especially of Leonidas. With all his abilities, Zeus could not see the limits to the Spartan king's powers. Powers, he was well aware, that Leonidas had not even discovered yet. These were no longer men and as such they were a threat he needed to deal with before they realized the extent of their power. Zeus used his powers to search the universe for a force to challenge them. Suddenly far in the future he came across a creature mightier than all else around him. A creature that destroyed everything it came into contact with, without even meaning to a creature that could increase his size as he became angrier. He saw far away a weakness in the tissue of time. A wizard was dueling with the creature, opening up a dimensional gate. Zeus, using his powers to their utmost, manipulated the gate. Stelios, had just finished pleasuring Captain Artemis. He had never experienced such ecstasy in his young life. While he shared the magnificent strength of his fellows, as the youngest he was also slightly weaker than the other men. After the first nine orgasms he found himself tiring slightly, unable to muster the fortitude to equal his Captain's. While Artemis was busying himself with two other soldiers, Stelios bounded away to find some water. His powerful legs carried him many leagues in a few moments. He found a small valley nestled among the nearby mountains which hid a pleasant lake and a cooling spring. Shedding the remnants of his much abused armor and cape, Stelios washed the remains of battle and his carnal rutting from his skin. It pleasured Stelios to feel the contours of his new body. The amazing hardness of his chest, shoulders and arms. He ran his hand across the rutted surface of the muscle savoring the new feelings and how impossible it was to completely reach across his new mass. He pushed his hand down deep into the furrow of his own chest. He had a large hand and it could completely vanish into that muscled valley. His manhood started to enlarge despite the hours of fucking and the cool water that now rushed across it. He suddenly ejaculated thick ropy streams of his issue, staining the pool further. Suddenly, above the valley, the sky itself was rent apart in a reddish gash. Winds suddenly appeared whipping the foliage around Stelios into a frenzy. He found himself strangely unmoved by the supernatural spectacle that would have previously sent him to his knees. A new confidence bloomed in him. A massive green form leapt from the torn fabric of space and time and landed at the edge of the valley. The ground rumbled with the impact. The tear then suddenly disappeared from the sky as quickly as it had formed. The naked youth strode from the lake, the clear water misting off from the heat of his magnificent body. Although the green creature had dropped a mile away, Stelios was there in less than a second. The green behemoth raised his head groggily: "Uhhh.. Puny magician has sent Hulk away again. No fair to Hulk." Stelios did not know what to make of this creature. It was emerald green and had the appearance of an incredibly muscular man. Bestial it seemed to Stelios,. Perhaps one last travesty of nature from the Persians he thought. Their magicians trafficked much in the black arts and the creature did mention something that sounded like sorcery Stelios was thinking so intensely he did not notice he was gripping the trunk of a small tree next to him snapping it in two. The Hulk stood up at the sound and turned to face him. Stelios was suddenly aware that the creature was considerable taller than him, about the same height as Leonidas with muscles that would have overawed him a day ago. Now even though this creature towered over him by almost a foot....Stelios was not sure that it was any more muscular than his own incredible body. "From where have you come?" he shouted bravely up at the great creature. "Hulk chase puny magician up mountain. Hulk not know where that was. Hulk not know where here is either" The creature did not appear to be ready for combat and it seemed disoriented. Stelios decided to take the creature in for Leonidas' pleasure. "You are a prisoner of the Spartan army, creature. Come with me." The creature's eyes cleared of befuddlement, giving way to fury. "Hulk is no one's prisoner Muscle boy is not as strong as Hulk!" The creature suddenly sprang at Stelios. Stelios moved quicker than the Hulk's eye could follow, sidestepped and using the Hulk's momentum gripped his forearm and smashed him into the side of the hill. There was crash as the granite cracked with the impact of the Hulk's skull. Chunks of rock pounded down on top of the briefly prone creature. There was a roaring sound the creature burst forth suddenly scattering boulders everywhere. The green creature looked subtly larger to Stelios. "Hulk smash tricky muscle boy!!" the creature rumbled quickly sending a massive uppercut to the youth's head. Stelios was caught by the suddenness of the explosion and knocked up high into the air. He landed on his feet, his prodigious legs easily cushioning the impact, directly in front of the angry creature who was waiting for the youths landing. Stelios felt his ears wringing from the prodigious blow, but he was still conscious surviving a blow that would have destroyed tanks in the Hulk's time. The Hulk was surprised the young man was still standing and he noticed the bronzed youth's massive muscles. They were at least as big as his own even inflated by his growing rage. "No one bigger than, Hulk!" he roared, breaking into an obscenely huge most muscular, his muscles bulged obscenely. The muscular challenge uncoiled Stelios' pride and he matched the creature's pose, nay he exceeded it; his more symmetrical bronzed body bulged thicker and overcame the incredible size of the Hulk's frenzied pose. Hulk roared in a rage, vainly trying to grow bigger than this massive youth. The young man crouched in front of the Hulk. The Hulk approach the youth and gripped the young man's arms in an attempt to hold them down. The golden muscle was not dented by his enormous pressure and the arms felt disturbingly powerful in his hands. Stelios's arms were gripped with a force that could pulverize mountains. Stelios' muscles ached as he resisted the downward force with an equal force of his own. Massive arms pushed against more massive arms. Even with the advantage of leverage and gravity, The Hulk could not budge the Spartan's arms downward and anger and fury began to fuel his strength increase. With minute slowness and with every bit of enhanced strength the Hulk could muster, he began to move this young man's arms downwards. While the Hulk was concentrating every molecule of his being into subduing Stelios, Stelios was able to divert a small portion of his attention to concentrating on how to get away from this stubborn gargantua. With Stelios' attention momentarily diverted the creature had begun to muscle his arms downwards. He could see the spark of triumph in the Hulk's eyes when suddenly Stelios simply kicked out somehow catching the Hulk in the back of the knee. The creature staggered which was enough for Stelios to quickly pull from the Hulk's grip and race back towards the army. Stelios was fast but the Hulk saw the direction and came roaring after him. Stelios arrived at the camp in moments. "A creature from the heavens chases me. It's strength and fortitude are more than a match for me and it comes directly behind!!" Leonidas' sensing this might be the beginning of a second wave of attackers commanded, "SPARTANS! FORM ON ME!" In less than a minute, all 300 men had assembled in a wedge formation, with King Leonidas the massive tip of the wedge. The green creature skidded to a halt at the edge of the camp near Stelios' position away from Leonidas. "HO, GREEN CREATURE!" Leonidas bellowed as the Hulk created two huge ruts in the road throwing up a thick cloud of dust from stopping so quickly. "IF YOU MEAN SPARTA HARM, WE WILL SEND YOU TO YOUR GRAVE!" Irritable to no end due to his struggle with Stelios, still intent on catching the youth and surrounded by the dust he had kicked up, Hulk did not notice the power of the voice confronting him and could not see the army. He pulled his arms forward inflating his massive emerald green chest and screamed, "Hulk smash muscle boy!!!!!!!" Then the air cleared and Hulk was confronted with the 300 bronzed muscle gods arrayed in front of him. His eyes quickly found Stelios among the group and deep in his mind he felt something like fear as he noticed that Stelios was the smallest of this musclebound group. A deep rumbling which turned out to be King Leonidas' laugh alerted the Hulk to his overwhelming presence. The Hulk, seeing the gargantuan man gulped inwardly. "STELIOS! YOU SAY THIS CREATURE WHO LOOKS LIKE A MAN CAME FROM THE HEAVENS? PERHAPS HE IS A GIFT FROM ZEUS TO RELIEVE MY LONELINESS. BUT ZEUS COULDN'T YOU HAVE MADE HIM COMELIER??" Leonidas laughed bitterly at the sky. "Hulk have bigger muscles!" Hulk said uncertainly flexing his cannonball arms. King Leonidas strode over to the creature. They were the same 7 foot height and yet the Spartan's muscles looked to be infinitely bigger, ripped with veins and radiated megatons more power than the subdued Hulk. The massive bronze shelf of Leonidas' chest pushed the Hulk backwards several feet as Leonidas stood directly in front of him. In all the battles and all the super beings the Hulk had faced, he had never been so awestruck by the power of another as he was by Leonidas. Leonidas curled one arm in front of the Hulk. The biceps crested so high and so densely layered with muscle the Hulk was ashamed at his own pitiful arm. This bicep was an indomitable, omnipotent mountain of tanned flesh and made the Hulk's usually more than substantial arm look almost tiny, like an anthill next to Mount Olympus itself. Hulk felt just the near presence Leonidas all conquering bulk crushing him. A remainder of his fury came to the surface and he struck out at Leonidas' massive chest with a blow that was several times more powerful than the blow which had staggered Stelios. His fist came rushing at Leonidas with the power and speed of several exploding bombs. The 300 could feel power of it compacting the air before it struck. The fist collided with behemoth mountains of muscle. The Hulk felt his super thick bones shatter like crystal on the immovable hardness of the Spartan's chest. The Spartan was completely unmoved; he did not even flinch or step back from the force of the tremendous blow. "I SEE YOU NEED TO BE TAUGHT A LESSON!" thundered the king who in a blink of an eye swung his mighty fist up into the Hulk's abdomen easily crushing the creature's abdominal muscles and launching the Hulk up thousands of feet into the air. Leonidas was just getting started. He leapt up faster and higher than the Hulk and smashed another mighty blow reversing the upwards thrust of the Hulk and propelling the creature fatally fast down to earth. The Hulk slammed into the hard rock of the plain, creating a deep abyss. Even the 300 stepped back from the force of the impact. The creature was covered in blood and tried to stand on his hopelessly broken legs to face Leonidas who landed with a deafening crash further decimating the rock of the plain Even as his hyper healing abilities kicked into gear knitting up the wreckage Leonidas had made of his body, the Hulk felt deep fear at what this awesomely muscled creature would do to him. "STELIOS, YOU SAY THIS CREATURE CAME FROM HEAVEN. I KNOW NOT A PERSIAN SPELL THAT WORKS THUS. METHINKS THIS CREATURE IS PERHAPS OF THE GODS," Leonidas said looking at the Hulk thoughtfully. The Hulk felt his abilities returning almost fully. He waited until his terrible foe's attention was diverted back towards his men and then moved to take a mighty leap that would carry him miles away The Hulk leapt but the King moved even faster catching the Hulk by a thick ankle stopping the Hulk's forward motion with ungodly ease. "PITIFUL CREATURE. YOU CANNOT RETURN FROM WHENCE YOU CAME!" Suddenly he began to arc the helpless superhero back and forth over his head and slammed him down into the ground over and over again. 1000 times in a less than 30 seconds, Leonidas was a bronze blur of heat and motion. In that time every bone and organ in the Hulk's body was destroyed, pulped by the unstoppable might of Leonidas. The king smiled without pity as he stared at his broken foe laying in a pool of his own green blood and splayed flesh, still breathing raggedly. "IF THIS IS THE BEST THAT HEAVEN CAN SEND THEN HEAVEN ITSELF IS NO LONGER WORTH DEFENDING!! WE FORMERLY OF SPARTA NO LONGER OWE ALLEGIANCE TO A COUNTRY THAT FORSAKE US. WE NO LONGER OWE ALLEGIANCE TO A HEAVEN THAT SENDS SUCH TO US. WE OWE ALLEGIANCE ONLY TO EACH OTHER AND WITH EACH OTHER WE MARCH ON THE GODS THEMSELVES!!!!!!!!!" With that the king raised his foot above the green creature's barely moving chest intending to smash the barely beating heart and finish the beast. He paused staring at the pathetic misshapen form and whispered, "You are as much a pawn as I in these infernal games. Recover if you can, you are my first spared." The musclegod king,turned away from the fallen creature to his men and pointed a huge arm to the far away peak of Mount Olympus, "WE MARCH TO WAR!"
  3. Hello, all...here is the long-awaited Wrestling Chapter......to catch up where you were before, I highly recommend you look at the other chapters first..... Links to other 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 / A Brief History of Casey Rockland / Miles Donovan's Gym "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 6 - Casey is Discovered at Miles Donovan's Gym "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Pt. 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale, Continued / The Men Hit the Showers "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11 - Casey Meets the Muscle Squad 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. 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 12: Part 1 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match Five minutes later, Karim Abdul was striding down the corridor, pecs bouncing, headed for the wrestling room. Still carrying his clothes from Casey’s presentation, he was now dressed only in his red Lycra wrestling singlet. His step was deliberate, his gait powerful. As he walked he grumbled to himself, ignoring the low clamor of the rest of muscle squad, who followed eagerly behind. His cock, loose in the singlet, swayed heavily from side to side as he walked, his balls pushed forward. “Asswipe kid.” The rest of his thoughts were a little too vague for words. Thoughtlessly he grabbed his cock and got it momentarily out of the way of his quads, pumping as he walked. Most of the squad was keeping a good 20 yards of distance between themselves and Karim Abdul. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of a wild Abdul punch at this moment. Even Schumacher, McIntyre, and Duncan, men who could well defend themselves and were used to Abdul’s occasional wild swings, were keeping themselves at a cautious distance. Karim knew he had to mark his territory. Now, tonight, and fast. No questions asked. Leaving nothing to second-guessing. After all, even he had to admit it - this kid was fucking unbelievable. He was huge, he was cut, he was raw, he was handsome, he was young, he was unbelievably hung. And at only 18 years of age, he was still growing. Karim wouldn’t rest until he’d smashed the kid’s handsome face into the mat. And maybe pissed in his mouth, too. Something. Something like that. Yeah. Show him who was in charge. But - it was all – well, a little unformed. Even to him. He passed the door leading to the back of the kitchen. He bashed the door open with his fist, smashing the frame and cracking the thick glass. Inside, Pedro, Abdul’s handsome little kitchen cocksucking buttboy, was sweeping up. “Your ass in the wrestling room. Bring that 10-pound canister of olive oil. MOVE!!! NOW!” commanded Abdul. Pedro jumped a mile. Then Abdul was gone, continuing on down the corridor. Pedro immediately put the broom away, washed his hands - his musclegod demanded clean fingernails - climbed up a little ladder to one of the shelf larders, and grabbed a 10 gallon jug of olive oil. Carrying it with some difficulty, he nevertheless darted out the door and ran excitedly after Abdul. "Wait for me!" the eager boy squeaked. He was about to get an awesome muscle show. Maybe suck some massive cock. Wow! Further ahead, Abdul was a man on a mission. And coming up behind him and running by was Private Tiffany. Abdul didn’t like that asswipe, either. Great glutes, though. Perfect glutes. Big, hard, striated boulders. Yeah. Fuckable. Most inviting. He’d fuck the little asswipe’s butt one day and then push his face in the toilet. Yeah. He continued on, paying little notice, though he did allow himself a quick, cool glance at the muscleboy’s rolling, muscular boybutt as he scampered by. From the corridor somewhere behind Abdul, Schumacher was shouting to Tiffany. “Where you going?” he demanded to know. “Getting Dr. Irving!” “Who?” Tiffany turned back, running backwards, explaining patiently as if to a child. “The dude with the camera. Ever notice him? Probably not…” He waved Schumacher off with easy, grinning contempt, turned back and scooted happily up the corridor towards Dr. Irving’s office. Schumacher swore to himself. He had to acknowledge he had no idea who Tiffany was talking about. He rarely noticed the lab workers or other doctors, barely paying attention to even Dr. Zaftig himself. He returned his gaze to Karim, striding purposefully up the hall ahead of him. Karim Abdul’s rocky man glutes rumbled darkly as he walked, and Schumacher gazed into the impenetrable deep butt crack outlined in the red Lycra. Excepting only the cloaked, anonymous butt fucking nights, no one other than powerfucker Schumacher had yet penetrated Karim’s magnificent asshole. Ever. “At least I have that much,” Schumacher muttered. By now he was passing the open office door. Tiffany, his back to the corridor, was hurriedly explaining to some geeky lab coat doctor who Schumacher had never noticed before, saying something about Get the camera out, asshole, and Come with me now…. Schumacher paused for a moment in the office doorway to admire Tiffany’s butt sweep in his tight regulation khakis. His full, hard, rounded glutes were a most enticing display in his slacks, the rear pockets rounded with the curvature of pure muscle, promising the pleasures that lay beneath. Joe Tiffany Now there was a butt to fuck. He grunted and continued down the corridor, following Karim. In truth he didn’t know why he was heading off with the others to the wrestling ring, and especially at this hour. He should be headed off to bed, a quick JO instant replay of the group shower suck / group butt lick he’d enjoyed just 40 minutes earlier, and then plenty of shuteye for another brutal workout tomorrow. That was the life. And another day to plan on getting into Tiffany’s butt. Another day to strategize some deep cock / muscleboybutt frottage sessions. Another day to – “Hey, Schumacher.” It was McIntyre. “Where you going? This way.” He’d walked right past the wrestling room door. “Oh.” He retraced his steps. As he came back, a little sheepishly, Alvarez and Lang were in the doorway. Lang’s tongue was practically lolling out of his head in anticipation, and even cool customer Alvarez had an excited gleam in his eye. “What do you assholes think is gonna happen?” snarled Schumacher as he strode by, pushing past them into the wrestling room. Alvarez put his hands up in mock defensiveness. “Oh, nothing, nothing. We just thought we might want to watch.” “Yeah, we wanna watch nothing happen,” smirked Lang. Both men mockingly bowed as Schumacher went by, Alvarez of course taking the lead, with puppydog Lang following suit. Schumacher glanced down at their packed flies bulging out of their khakis as he strode by. “You both sure got big enough hard-ons, just to watch nothing happen.” Lang looked defensive. Alvarez just laughed, and gently patted Lang’s growing bulge. “Yeah, guess we do.” He nodded and winked, and went inside the wrestling room. Lang followed, and even had the temerity to wink at Schumacher as he went by. Alvarez threw his arm around Lang and playfully squeezed his ass. Faggots, thought Schumacher. His own cock roared to life in his pants and was soon poling straight out and upward. He glanced back down the corridor. Moster and Casey were rounding the corner. Moster had changed out of his sweats, and was now in the regulation Valhalla Labs green t-shirt and tight khakis. Casey still had only his micro posing trunks on. Behind them scurried Dr. Irving, carrying Casey’s sweats and his video equipment. He was babbling on his cellphone. Probably talking to the insane dude who ran the place. Zaftig. Moster noted the ruined kitchen door and sighed. “Another door,” he grumbled. These dudes, when they got pissed off. It’s not like Valhalla Labs was a bottomless money source. Close, but not bottomless. He nodded at Schumacher and gestured briefly for him to go into the wrestling room ahead of them. Schumacher scowled, but did as he was directed. “Dr. Irving?” “Yes, Sergeant Moster?” Irving scurried to catch up to them. “Do you have a white cap on you?” “Why…yes….” Moster knew he would. The little doctor had long since learned that anything could happen when the men gathered, and he made it a point to carry extra medication with him at all times. And there was no sense in irritating Moster with a “Why, no.” He wouldn’t put it past the giant black muscle monster to deck him with one mighty punch in the nose if displeased, which would no doubt kill him. He scrambled and produced a small medication bottle. Moster turned to Casey, struggling a little to keep up, halfway between a walk and a run, his black shiny micro poser barely covering his steadily bobbing cock as he ran. “Here,” said Moster. “Take this.” “Hunh?” Casey stopped full. “Take it. Don’t ask questions.” “What—what is it?” “Extra confidence.” “Drugs?” Casey was momentarily stumped. He remembered that the boys in the Home were always experimenting. It made them silly and weak. He wanted no part of it. “I don’t do drugs.” Moster motioned to Irving. “Go on and set up, we’ll meet you there.” He turned to Casey. “It’s not a drug. Not like you think.” “I don’t do no steroids, neither.” “Not a ‘roid. There is no man in this facility on the juice. We have to do something about your grammar, by the way.” “Then how –“ “Shut up and take it. I will explain later. You will be fine.” Casey gulped, put his faith in Moster, and did as he was told. He popped the pill in his mouth, and smiled with weak subservience at Moster. “Okay, sir.” “What was that?” “I..I mean, Yes, Sir!” “That’s better.” Moster turned and continued down the corridor, Casey scampering after him. Good thing the men still do what I tell them to do, thought Moster. And how long is that gonna last with this boy? Once he finds his power? Moster tucked that thought away. “Let’s go watch you wrestle. You do wrestle, you said?” “Yeah, but I’m scared…” “No need to be.” “…no..…scared I’ll hurt him. I always do….” Except, of course, Ramon Ramon, the much smaller wrestler at Raw Weight Gym who never failed to thoroughly pin the muscleboy. But of course, that was a long time ago. Inside the wrestling room Karim had already snapped on the overhead lights and was doing deep knee bends in the middle of the 20 sq foot wrestling ring, which dominated the center of the room. The thick blue mat of the ring gleamed in the overhead lights, with the VALHALLA LABS logo in the center. Around the ring on two raised platforms were about 40 folding chairs, all affording perfect, elevated views of any wrestling action. Pedro stood eagerly on the side, now holding towels and a water bottle. “Getting limbered up to better meet the kid?” called out Blankenship. He had already grabbed his ringside seat, he too adjusting his crotch as he sat. “Shut the fuck up,” said Karim, squatting. To Pedro he shot out, “Where the fuck is the oil? Get the oil.” Pedro shot off into a storage room and returned with a 5-gallon jug of olive oil. “Goin’ for Turkish wrestling, hunh, Karim?” Chad was grabbing a seat ringside. He nudged Waring. “This is gonna be good.” No answer from Karim. “The kid’s got an iron grip, I’m told,” called out Waring, nudging Eli Meyer’s ribs as he took a seat next to him. Meyer’s mouth hung open in a perennial smile. He pointed to his mouth so Meyer could read his lips. “I said, Casey Rockland’s got an iron grip.” “I heard you.” Obatu was next, leaning against the ropes. “And those quads be killers. He gets you in a lock hold, you gonna be dead in the water. What’re ya gonna do about that, Mr. Abdul, sir?” Karim didn’t answer, regarding them all stonily. Obatu lazily returned his gaze, smiling, unintimidated. Blankenship had started this. But Blankenship had easily dodged the intended receiving end of a few near-miss wild roundhouse punches in the past. He was too fast and too alert to be caught unawares, and Karim Abdul had learned not to waste his energy on him. So Karim suffered the men’s ready comments stoically. “This kid got veins like this?” he asked, flexing his 25-inch biceps, showing off half-inch thick rivers of veins, pulsing with power. “Yeah, I think, actually, he does,” said Blankenship with a smile. “Here he is now. Let’s see. Kid, you got veins like his?” Moster and Casey had appeared at the opposite door, the darkened end of the wrestling room. Both giants approached, in black silhouette against the framed light from the corridor, getting larger as they quietly walked toward the ring. Casey looked up quizzically at the question. “Flex your biceps,” whispered Moster. “Hunh?” “Flex, man. Don’t ask stupid questions. Flex it up. Now.” “ ’kay.” Casey stopped and hammered out a front double bi. 25 inches of his own, in response to Abdul. As always, he felt compelled to go on, adding side chest, front lats, quads, and sent a hand probingly down rippled, hardrock abs. “That good?” “Good, good,” muttered Moster. “You catch on fast. You ever compete, kid?” “Uh…..no……should I? Other guys are so much bigger than me….” Moster smiled. They all think that, at the beginning. “Get over here, plebe,” Abdul called out from the center of the ring. Pedro was standing on a stool, pouring the olive oil over his massive physique, worshipfully slathering him up. Casey in Silhouette Casey stared. “What’s all that….?” he stammered. Moster noted that the white cap hadn’t taken effect yet, but then it had only been a few minutes. “Now, Karim,” said Moster patiently, coming into the light as they approached the ring. “You know Casey is not a plebe.” Abdul started to speak. “Nor is he a cadet. He is now one of you. He makes us The Twenty. You need to accept this,” he continued, walking and speaking easily now as he pulled up the ropes and stepped into the wrestling ring. He approached the angry giant muscle Arab. “And he isn’t threatening you. Casey isn’t going to pull your power away from you.” “That’s not what this is about.” “Bullshit,” one of the men yelled. The others laughed. Abdul glared at them and went on. “Whatever you say, Sergeant Moster, sir,” said Abdul. “I just want to make sure he’s going to be worth my time to train with.” He smiled easily. “That’s all.” The oil was dripping off him onto the mat. Moster said nothing. Casey was now visibly nervous. Still outside the ropes, he leaned in to Moster. “They gonna reject me?” he whispered loudly. “I mean, now?” “No one’s rejecting you,” said Moster loudly. He then turned to the waiting group of musclemen. “Are you, boys?” Something about that ‘boys’ rankled Abdul even further, though Alvarez and Gunst just smiled. The others looked perplexed. “Since when are we boys?” squealed Hension. “Shut up, Hension,” said Chad. “You ever wrestle, boy?” Abdul called out. “His name is Casey. Or Private Rockland.” “I asked you a question, boy. Ever wrestled? Get your butt into the ring.” “You really want all this oil?” sighed Moster. “We’re gonna wrestle Turkish style.” “It’s messy.” “I’ll clean it up, sir!” squeaked Pedro. “Bet your ass you will.” “Yeah, you don’t want a spanking, now, do you?” yelled Lang. He adjusted in his chair, his glutes still smarting from the paddling he’d received earlier that evening. Moster’s cock twitched a little at the suggestion of paddling handsome young Pedro’s hard, receiving little boybutt, a pleasure he had not yet allowed himself, although the teenage boy’s firm little butt cheeks had always been particularly inviting in his kitchen whites. He ignored it for now, however. Later, he thought. Casey shot a look at Moster. “What’s this about spankings?” he asked. Moster ignored the question. “Get in there.” “Yes, sir.” Casey climbed obediently into the ring. Moster watched him closely. The white cap should be taking effect in a moment…. “Oil him up,” commanded Abdul. Pedro ran over to him with the stool and the olive oil, climbed up, and began to pour it all over Casey’s massive physique. The sheer size and beauty of his muscles was overwhelming to the little Mexican, and his own powerful little cock began to bulge in his pants. After a moment, Casey was drenched in the shiny, thick liquid. The two musclemen stood face to face, Abdul in his tight singlet, fearsome muscles gleaming in the light, looming with threatening power. Casey was still in his micro, bulging posers, wet now with slick oil, the top 6 inches of his massive, meaty cockshaft fully exposed, blond tendrils of pubic hair curling with thick radiance. He was embarrassed, humiliated that his huge penis was twitching outwards in anticipation of what-was-coming-next. But then he noticed – Abdul’s oily, pylon-thick tool was also clearly coming to life in the thin singlet. “Good. Now, you got some mighty fancy muscles. But that doesn’t mean much here. We all got fancy muscles.” “You’re not being very polite, Corporal Abdul, “ said Moster, moving to the sidelines. “I think the men ought to introduce themselves before we get into any personal demonstrations of our manhood. Don’t you agree?” Even the ever-present log in lying against Moster’s pants leg was firmly outlined and appeared to be twitching a little, and the thin khaki fabric of his slacks covering it was now smooth and tight. Slowly the 17 others bodybuilders rose from their seats around the ring, one by one. 38 pairs of eyes stared at Casey intently. He glanced at the cocky little Joe Tiffany, and then over at Corporal Schumacher, who was now looking at him expectantly. “Okay, now, boy. This is Turkish wrestling. There are clear rules, but they’re different from American collegiate.” “Hang on,” said Moster. “We’ll get to the Turkish rules of wrestling in a moment. He stepped into the ring and approached Casey, now thick and dripping with oil. The men were now gathered on two sides of the ring, leaning on the ropes, leaning in to see what was coming next. For any other cadet introduced into the ranks, Sergeant Moster would have generally proceeded to paddle Casey’s hard young butt as the formal ritual of initiation. Last had been Private Tiffany receiving the red-hot butt cheek welcome, which he had borne stoically and proudly, displaying the twin globes of burnt-cherry perfection under the paddling. And after all, they had all gone through it, excepting Abdul, of course. Even Schumacher had known the firm, unrelenting hand of Moster on his butt. Hazing was hazing. But tonight, that didn’t seem to be happening. Abdul’s interesting wrestling challenge has precluded that. All were watchful. “Men, introduce yourselves. I was going to do this tomorrow, at Casey’s first workout, but now seems as good a time as any.” He turned to Casey and smiled. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to remember all their names just yet,” he added. “That’s good. I’m not very good with names.” “You’ll know them all, in time.” One by one, each man introduced himself. “My name is Private Leo Jin,” said the Asian man. “I’m 25 and from San Diego. I have been in the Project 8 years. My best bodypart is my forearms.” To prove it, the handsome Asian brought his beefy, fetchingly oversized forearms, walloping with solid muscle and veins, and squeezed the muscles hard. “I’m Private Dan Gunst, and until today, I had the biggest biceps here – except for Sergeant Moster’s.” Gunst flexed his mighty guns and then gave Casey a half-cocked smile. “Guess yours are bigger,” he proffered, respectfully. “I saw that this afternoon.” Moster glanced at him questioningly. “Oh, yeah,” he added. “I’m from Milwaukee, I’m 27, and I have been in the program 3 years. Hi, Casey. Welcome again.” “Hi, Dan!” Gunst sat back down. Moster eyed Casey carefully, wondering when the little capsule might take effect. Casey seemed cheerful and happy. Around the circle they went, each muscleman getting to his feet, politely introducing himself, offering basic information, and then showing him his best bodypart. “I’m Steve Waring, and my best bodypart is my traps.” Bulge. Flex. Steve Waring “I’m Rene LeFevre, and my best bodypart are my pecs.” Surge. Bloom. Bulge. “I’m David Duncan, and my best bodypart are my triceps.” Rip. Bulge. Bloom. Flex. “I’m Schumacher.” He said nothing else but grudgingly offered a front lat spread. Casey nodded without expression. This guy was not to be messed with. Eli Meyer signed with ASL. Casey nodded, showing some intelligence. Moster was pleased. Then Meyer turned around, bent over, grabbed his ankles, and showed off his hams, bulging through the khakis. He turned back and Casey gave him the OK and thumbs up sign. “I’m Chris Hension, and my best bodypart – “ “Is my FACE!” shouted Corporal LeFevre. “I’m a refugee from a lost episode of ’21 Jump Street’!” “Smack me around a little and I’ll follow you forever!” added Chad. “He’s our little boyband musclepup,” explained Blankenship. “Shut up,” yelled Hension, visibly embarrassed once again to be labeled the squad pretty boy. All the men were laughing now. “My best body part is my quads.” He started to rotate them. “And my baby blue eyes,” shouted LeFevre again. Hension was confused and humiliated but continued to show his quads, blooming in his tight khakis. “I think it’s his butt!” said Waring. “It’s okay, Chris,” said Casey. “Your quads are awesome.” Hension looked up, hopefully, and Casey felt compelled to go on. “And I think you’re very handsome indeed.” Hension smiled hugely at Casey, his heart beating a little faster. Gee, he thought. Wow. He gazed at Casey, who was now turning his attention to Private Waring. “I’m Private Ryan Waring, and my best bodypart are my delts.” He extended a powerful arm and began to rotate it. Suddenly Hension spoke up again. “I’m 22,” he blurted out, “and I’m from Toledo!” The men laughed again, and Hension hung his head a little and stuck out his lower lip. Next to him, Chad patted his thigh comfortingly. Casey saw him wink at Hension, who straightened up a little and smiled weakly. Casey’s head was spinning. He was inspired past all understanding by the mind-boggling panorama of muscle before him. And he was part of it. About then, he noticed that the room seemed to be getting a little brighter and a little hotter. He was staring again at Moster’s leg log. “Private Lang,” said Lang. “I’m 28, I’m from Lansing, Michigan, and….” He looked a little helplessly at Alvarez, sitting next to him. “My best body part is……um….” “Your back. Your lats are your best body part,” said Alvarez with quiet encouragement. “Yeah, I guess it’s my lats.” He turned and flared his lats wide. Alvarez clapped him approvingly on his butt. Lang smiled and sat, and Alvarez got up. “I’m Corporal Julio Alvarez, I’m 32, I’m from El Paso, and my best bodypart are my biceps.” He flexed. “Gunst’s are bigger but mine have sick peaks.” He popped them back and forth. “See?” Casey was indeed impressed. “Nice. Sick.” Gunst yelled in good-humored protest and flexed his own guns. Casey looked between Alvarez and Lang. Alvarez glanced over at Lang. “No, we’re not related,” he said. “They’re just joined at the wrist and ankles,” called out Gunst. “More like mouth and cock,” muttered Blankenship loudly, winking at Casey. It was Private Tiffany’s turn. “Casey and I will be meeting privately soon,” he boasted, and made a show of wiping the corner of his lips with his index finger. The men laughed knowingly – all but Corporal Schumacher, who looked down into his lap and seethed a little. Moster watched him intently. Something has to be done about Tiffany. But he didn’t worry. Though Tiffany didn’t know it yet, something was already happening. Casey felt a touch flushed, but his head was suddenly amazingly clear. Suddenly he spoke. “And what’s your best bodypart?” he asked. The stammer was gone, but only Moster noticed it. “What do you think?” Joe Tiffany turned around, bent over and grabbed his ankles. He pulled his gym shorts tight at the crack of his butt and proudly displayed his magnificent bodybuilder glutes. “Cupcakes!” said Gunst gleefully. The men howled. Schumacher made a show of laughing, but all he could do was glare. “Wow,” said Casey calmly. “Very pretty.” Tiffany's Butt after Squats Moster smiled inwardly. Good. He’s responded. And this boy responds well to White Caps, he thought. “No one’s had it yet,” said Tiffany confidingly as he straightened up and turned around, tucking his t-shirt back into his shorts. Then he winked. “Except in group.” “Group?” Casey was obviously perplexed. The men shouted with laughter, which died down sheepishly as, looking around the room, each man eventually shrugged and acknowledged it was probably true. None of them had had Tiffany yet. “I haven’t, anyway,” grumbled Schumacher, and the men laughed again. Tiffany sat back down and ignored Schumacher’s look. “Too bad,” said Casey. “Shame to waste such a pretty little behind.” The laughter died down and the men stared at Casey. No one knew what to say. “What’s ‘group’?” repeated Casey. Silence. On the sidelines, Alvarez raised his head a little. He exchanged looks with Moster. White cap? he mouthed. Moster looked away. Alvarez smiled and leaned in. He nudged Lang in the ribs. “Ow,” said Lang. “This is gonna be good,” said Alvarez in a low voice. “And I’m Karim Abdul. My best bodypart? My whole fucking physique is my best bodypart. As you are about to find out.” He flexed, whipping through pose after pose, his heavy cock bulge, dripping with oil, whipping left to right in his wrestling singlet. Snap. Snap. Snap. Casey could hear it slapping against his thighs through the man’s singlet. “All very impressive,” said Casey, looking pointedly at it. Moster smiled again. The cap had taken effect. “Okay. Turkish wrestling. Rules. One: there are few rules.” Abdul ticked off the rules on his fingers. “Submission: the “crush.” A fighter can get his opponent onto his stomach and then trap him by sprawling on top. If I can keep you down with your face, I can then turn you on a half-nelson for a pin.” “What if you can’t do it?” asked Casey bluntly. “If I can’t crush you, the referee has to begin us again from a standing position.” He ticked off another finger and looked Casey right in the eye. “I am not restricted from placing my hands inside my opponent’s kispet…” “Hunh?” “Your poser. I can also use the waistband to hold you in place. If I yank your poser so far below your hips that you are exposed, I win. Okay. If I can lift you entirely off the ground … “Fat fucking chance.” “Whoa,” breathed Hension. The temperature in the room seemed to raise 15º. Abdul paused, tense, and continued. “…and carry you five paces in any direction, that is a “carrying” pin. Got it?” “Yep.” “Okay.” Abdul looked at Casey. “You wanna go?” “What are we waiting for?” “Let’s wrestle,” said Abdul. He clapped his hands together and strode into the center of the ring. Ever since the mention of ‘group’, Abdul had been a touch shaky – or so Moster thought. Still can’t acknowledge how much he likes musclebutt. To say nothing of getting pissed on,” thought Moster. “Sure thing,” Casey answered, slick with oil and now quietly confident. Pedro scampered to the side of the ring and squatted eagerly to watch. Abdul began to bounce around, heel-toe, heel-toe, flexing his fingers, stretching his arms behind his head, limbering up. “Let’s go, man.” “You got it, man.” Casey hunkered down. “Center of the ring, gents,” said Moster. The men began to circle one another. “You wrestle till one of you gets a pin,” Moster instructed, now in the ring and getting between them. Casey flexed his biceps. “Big peaks, man. Like ‘em?” “Seen bigger,” said Abdul. He crunched forward, did a most muscular, his veins popping like railroad tracks. “How ‘bout you? Like what you see, faggot?” he asked. Casey just smiled, hunkered lower. Abdul palmed the crotch of his singlet. Casey smiled and refused to look down. He grabbed his own crotch, pendulously looming in his bulging posers. “Big handful, man.” “Watch it, boys,” said Moster. “This is a friendly get-to-know-you match.” “I already know him,” said Abdul. Moster snapped his fingers to Dr. Irving, now on the unpopulated side of the mat and with his ever-present video camera whirring. He dug in the pocket of his white lab jacket, wordlessly tossing him a whistle. Casey and Abdul met each other in the center of the mat and stared one another down. Their noses touched. Abdul grinned, ear to ear. Casey followed suit. Both began to gleam with anticipatory sweat. “Wow…..” breathed Hension. His hand shot down into his pants and he began massaging his stiffening tool. Moster pushed the two apart and blew his whistle to start the match. “And……wrestle!!” CLICK HERE FOR PART 2!
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  6. Previous 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? 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 "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
  7. 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.....
  8. "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.
  9. Hi everyone! Welcome to Chapter Three. This chapter came about a few days ago as I was working out with a friend of mine and we talked about body dysmorphic issues we both have with out bodies, and how we both see ourselves as the fat kids we used to be. I haven't been fat for a long time now... but I have trouble not thinking of myself that way. The transformation sequence in this chapter comes from what my friend said he would evolve into if he had to become what he really was deep down inside. I think he enjoyed telling me about it too much!! Enjoy!!!! The Test Chapter Three: Destruction Chad and Jacob emerged from the ether outside Chariots in Vauxhall. Jacob had never been to a gay sauna before, but as he gazed upward toward his friend, he could see that Chad was practically vibrating with excitement. - Can you feel it? Each man in there is calling out to me. As each one experiences lust, desire, orgasm, or experiences any form of sexual stimulation, it is like a call out to my soul. I can hardly control myself. It is taking every ounce of strength I have not to take you right here, Jacob. I need to be among them. Chad walked away from Jacob and approached the door. Without even touching it, the door swung open, and he stepped inside. Jacob ran after him, nervous to be alone. William who had passed out towels and charged the entrance fee at Chariots for seven years was bored with it all. He had seen everything and there were no surprises… that was until the wind blew the door open, and the man in skin tight leather pants strode in. He had to bend down to get his muscle mass through the door. It also looked as if the door suddenly stretched itself to allow the man into the room, but no doubt that illusion was only due to the sudden heat that filled the room. William was instantly hard… something that hadn’t happened in 24 years, and he waved the man through without asking either he or his small friend for the 20 pound entry fee. He must have been so enraptured by the mere sight of this God standing in his presence that as he walked away into the next room, it seemed as if the leather pants disintegrated from his body, and he was totally naked. I definitely need to get my eyesight checked, William thought as the man’s perfect ass and back disappeared from sight. William placed his hand on his erection, the hardest it had been since he was 15. Waves of intense horniness passed over him, and he could barely think straight. Fuck it, he thought as he got up from his stool, and followed the man in. He needed to be with him… worship him like the God he obviously was. The sound of sex was everywhere as Jacob and Chat entered the main room of the spa. Fog filled the air and the smell of poppers came from every directions. There appeared to be twenty men in the room. Some were fucking, some were observing, some were masturbating, and others were simply talking to each other while stroking their cocks. Chad observed his disciples with pride. With one thought, Chad closed his eyes and released his scent into every molecule of air. It traveled quickly throughout the room reaching each and every man. Silence quickly overtook it. One by one, each man slowly stopped whatever they were doing and walked over to Chad. At first, they only stared, afraid to touch him. Filled with his own uncontrollable desires, Jacob moved next to his friend and began to lick and clean the deep grooves between his abs. As if Jacob had singlehandedly broken the damn, every man began to touch Chad, caress him, lick him, kiss him, and even fuck him. Soon Chad was brought to the floor by the men so they could better pleasure him. Sill not satisfied, Chad called out for more worshipers. From miles away, men who were straight, gay, and questioning stopped what they were doing and made their way to Chariots. Three blocks away the local gay theatre company stopped performing their production of Beautiful Thing when nearly every member of the audience (five lesbians remained in their seats) stood up and left the auditorium with the group desire to worship Chad. Even the cast walked away from the stage and followed the audience to Chariots. Within one hour of Chad being there, hundreds of men filled the room. They each took turns fucking Chad and even trying to be fucked by him. A few dedicated fisters succeeding in having him slightly enter them, and were rewarded with the most intense orgasms they had ever had. Every inch of Chad was covered with men pleasing him. Soon he could not hold back, and he began to spray the populace with his seed. Each man took in as much as they could, enjoying the sweet ambrosia that flowed from his loins. Momentarily awaken from his sexual haze, Jacob could hear each man emanating a sound from deep within their souls. It was a word. - Eros! Eros! Eros! - Why are they saying that? - They know that is my name. - I thought it was Chad. - Chad was my human name. Eros is now the name I possess. A wave of sadness filled Jacob. He suddenly realized his friend was gone to him. Chad had never really needed him, but there had been a certain bond between them that had seemed special. Now that he was a God, Chad, or rather Eros, needed nobody. The God of Sex and Lust didn’t need a human wingman or hanger-on. Jacob began to separate himself from the group and walk away. Noticing his friend was gone, Chad turned and with his powerful hand, picked Jacob up and deposited him onto his massive chest. - You can still call me Chad. I’d like that. As hundreds of men brought pleasure to his body, Chad moved his large head toward Jacob. Without any supernatural influence, both men began to kiss… softly at first, and then filled with more passion. It was the best sensation either had ever felt, and Chad began to cum again. ************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************ Chaos materialized outside the lab building close to the Jeep Jacob had driven to his house. How long ago that time seemed, and how pathetic his life had been then. He had been a man pretending to be a God… yet here he was… a God disguising himself as a man. He breathed in deeply and attempted to get the whereabouts of the one he could only describe as his ‘new-formed brother.’ As he attempted to locate he and Jacob, a psychic punch threw him backward onto the pavement. Something powerful was blocking him from learning their location. Sparks of lightening shot from his eyes. His desire was to kill every human in his path with one blow… but he attempted to control his craving. There must be another way. Chaos stood up, dusted himself off, and moved closer to the Jeep. Taking a deep breath, he took in its scent. From the sensory explosion in his mind, he knew this was indeed his brother’s vehicle. He could smell human sweat mixed with cologne mixed with sex coming from the machine. Images of the many men his new-formed brother had fucked flooded his mind, and Chaos grew angry. How easily this man had lived his human gay life. Men had fallen at his feet, and he took them for granted. He took is existence for granted. Simply out of spite, Chaos reached out to his ex-wire and caused her to stumble and injure her back. Chaos grinned as he saw this occur in his mind. She was the one who had idiotically gotten pregnant. She was the one that had demanded a second child. She was the one who had entrapped him in a marriage and life he couldn’t stand. Anger bubbled inside of him again, and he threw is ex into a second contraction of pain. He clenched his fist tight as he continued the agonizing pain pulsating through her body. When he felt she could handle no more, he continued for another minute before setting her free. Returning to the Jeep, Chaos flicked his forked tongue at it, receiving tiny chemical molecules of information. In moments, he knew the exact location his brother had been in prior to arriving at the lab. A gym. Of course it was. The hunt was on. Now the fun could begin. Dark mist swirled around the figure of Chaos, and he disappeared. ************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************ Adrian Brooks shut off the foyer lights and turned the lock in the gym door. What had once been a massive old warehouse with immensely tall ceilings had been converted three years ago into a gym that catered to casual gym goers and muscle heads alike. Admiring the empty gym club, he admitted that this was his favorite time of the day. This was when he had the place and all of its machines all to himself, and he could work out in peace. All day he sat behind the desk welcoming patrons, answering questions, making smoothies, and cleaning white towels. The next two hours he had, working out on his own always made up for the prior eight. Adrian was a self-proclaimed gym rat, and he took no offence when people told him that he had only one real love: his body. It was a true. He took better care of his body then anyone he knew, and would rather work out then go to a pub any night. He hadn’t always been this way. Adrian had been a fat child, unhealthily attracted to chips and Coke over veg and water. Believing she was showering love on her only child, Adrian’s mother overfed him every chance she could. By fifteen, Adrian was severely overweight, had several health conditions including chronic anxiety, was bullied at school, and hand the lowest of self-esteems. One day in July two years ago, despising that he needed to hide his body behind baggy track pants and sweatshirts and couldn’t wear the shorts and skinny jeans he saw other men sporting, he decided to take his life into his hands. He began cooking his own healthy food, jogging little by little every day, and began reading up on current health and nutrition. In October of that same year, after loosing more than four stone, Adrian took his first step into a gym. With money he had saved from birthday’s and Christmases, he hired a personal trainer to show him the ropes. In no time at all he saw the faint outline of muscles replacing the fat that had once possessed his body. In a year and a half, Adrian was half the size he had been, proudly showing off his newborn pecs and biceps, and wearing the tightest clothes possible. When the front desk job at the gym became available, he jumped at it. The job meant working out for free and spending all of his time in a place he thought of as his second home. Now at age 20, Adrian stood before the mirror and flexed. He had come a long way, but still there was room for improvement. Removing his T-shirt, he focused on each muscle group, flexing in the mirror, and then judging and debating what he needed to do next to make them larger and more prominent. He knew he needed to shave his chest again. The light brown hair that coated his pecs and flowed down over his abs matched the hair on his head and stubble that had risen on his face today. Now that the gym was empty, he could do the one thing he had fallen in love with doing: working out in only a jock strap. Lifting without any clothes on allowed him to easily tune his mind with his body when he could clearly see the pump he was getting. When he opened his own gym one day, he would encourage this. Of course, it also sexual aroused him, but this was beside the point. Anything to do with muscle turned him on. He lived his life for muscle morning, noon, and night, and nothing would stop that. Adrian stacked the plates on the sleeves of the bar and began his set of bench presses with a cool 175. He completed 20 reps with this, and returned the bar to the catcher. He stood up and wet to load 25 more on each side when the lights in the gym began to flicker and go out. The emergency lights turned on, and the room was slightly illuminated, but mostly bathed in shadows. The temperature in the gym appeared to Adrian to also be rising, and he wondered if something was wrong with the Shoreditch powergrid. Beads of sweat began to emerge on his forehead and upper lip, so he reached for his towel and dried himself off. As he turned, he could see what appeared to be the air on his right ripple and bend. What could only be dismissed as an optical illusion or the sudden rise in temperature, Adrian leaned down and reached for his water bottle to cool off. - Could you be of some assistance? Adrian spit out some of his water, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the man speak. Looking to the shadows that bathed most of the space, he saw a man clothed all in black standing halfway across the room. - I’m sorry, mate. We’re closed. Adrian wanted to ask the man how he had gotten into the building, but he couldn’t help admiring the muscular physique he had. The man standing in front of him was simply immense with a size, that was practically unheard of. Most certainly a professional body builder, he thought, and a friend of the owner. He no doubt had his own key. That’s how he got in. Damn his size was monstrous. - I was just finishing locking up and going home myself. Thought I would get a quick chest workout in, but honestly, I’m knackered. I really should be getting home. Do you often work out here? I’ve been coming here for two years, but only started working here about six months ago. Adrian stopped talking because he knew he was just blathering on. The man dressed all in black simple stared at him and smiled. - No. I’ve never been here before. Though I doubt the equipment here could give me the pump I require. The man bounced his pecs for Adrian causing him to get slightly hard in his jock. Slowly the man walked closer to where Adrian was sitting, touching pieces of equipment as he passed. Each piece he touched suddenly rusted before Adrian’s eyes, and collapsed into a pile of dust on the floor. In shock, it took Adrian nearly twenty seconds of seeing this before he moved to run in the opposite direction. As he hoisted himself up to run into the locker room, his arms supernaturally turned completely to rubber, stretched, and distorted themselves around the bench press machine, tying themselves in a tight knot and forcing him to lie still on the bench. Although his arms were totally made of rubber now, the pain he could feel was agonizing, and any movement he made instigated the torment to rise. Closer and closer the man came until he stood right before Adrian. - You’re going to help me, aren’t you… little man? - What do you want? - Tell me who this is. The image of Chad developed in the mirror in front of Adrian. - That’s Chad. Chad Mitchell. - More. - He’s a trainer here. I think he’s worked here for a year now. - More. - I don’t really know any more. I swear. I don’t really know him. Chaos grinned and sat himself down on the bench as close to Adrian as the massive man could. With one figure, he began to stroke Adrians chest. For a moment Adrian was afraid he was going to touch him and he would disintegrate like the machines, but nothing happened. - More. - Ummm… he’s not a bad guy… he can be a bit of a jerk… kind of full of himself. - And have you ever seen this man? An image of Jacob took Chad’s place. - Yeah. That’s Jacob something or other. I don’t remember. They work out together. - Right. Chaos took his nail and began to run it over Adrian’s nipple. - And where do you think I could find Chad Mitchell. - I have no clue. I really don’t. I’m sorry. I really want to help, but he left hours ago. Chaos started flicking Adrian’s right nipple. - Hours ago? How many hours. - I don’t remember…it’s what… 9 now? I think he left at 5 or 6 Chaos continued to flick and play with Adrian’s right nipple. With lightening speed, Chaos squeezed his nipple tight sending shockwaves through Adrian. When he let go, milk abruptly started to pour from it. Chaos leaned over, and with his snake-like tongue lapped it up. - That is your fear leaking out of you… and it tastes delicious. - I want to help… please! Maybe he’s at XXL. He talks about going there a lot. Chaos grabbed the left nipple and proceeded to squeeze that one as well. Like the other, milk began to flow. Like a thirsty animal, Chaos continued to lap up the milk, his tongue burning Adrian as it touched his skin. - Please, God!! Please help me!! Chaos looked Adrian in the eyes and laughed. - The God you call on has abandoned you. Only Chaos remains. - Let me look in the files to find his address. I’m sure it has to be there. - Truthfully… the thought of my brother tires me at the moment. I’m suddenly much more engrossed in you at the moment. You taste so marvelous. You want to play some more with me… don’t you? Chaos rose to his feet and stood before Adrian. Mist whirled around the lowermost half of Chaos, and his black jeans and boots evaporated and in their place were two muscular horse legs and the most enormous hooves Adrian had ever seen. Chaos grabbed onto the hairy shaft that extended down the middle of his legs and began to stroke it, causing what was inside to elongate and harden. From within the shaft, Adrian could see a ginormous horse cock begin to emerge. - It’s time to play, Adrian. It’s time for you to play with Chaos. Without knowing how it happened, Adrian found the bench that had been supporting him had disappeared, and he was naked, and his arms were now tied to a metal rack, bending him over, ready for Chaos to fuck. An invisible finger began to play with Adrian’s hole, forcefully trying to open him up further. - Please, don’t! Please! I’ll do anything to help you! Anything!! Chaos stopped, frozen in place. He tried to lift his feet from the ground but found that he couldn’t. Even with all his strength and might, Chaos found himself immobile. Mist wrapped itself around his legs, and he was once again clothed in his tight black jeans and knee-high boots. Chaos screamed into the shadows of the empty room: - Who’s doing this? His scorpion tail tore through the ass of his jeans and swung wildly around behind him. Since he was facing away from Chaos, Adrian wasn’t sure what was occurring, but he could hear the loud sound of destruction the tail was making as it swung around, smashing into the mirror and overturning machines. - I have allowed you your little temper tantrums and show of dominance… but not it is my turn to display my power. See how… like a puppet... I control you. At the mere sound of Asarualimnunna’s voice ringing in his head, anger welled up in Chaos. - No one controls me! The tail swung and shattered another of the mirrors. - Quiet!!!! An invisible sword cut through Chaos’ tail, severing it from his body. With a heavy thud, it fell to the floor, twitching as if it were still alive, and then dissolving into a puddle of sludge. - I am your Creator! I control you! I have always controlled you! Say it to me now, or I shall snuff you out of existence. Through gritted teeth, Chaos spoke the dreaded words: - You are my creator. You control me. - Good. I will destroy you, Chaos though. I will destroy you. - Now, as you play with this human, Eros has gained nearly 150 worshipers. In his mind eye, Chaos could see Eros being worshipped from head to toe; each second more joined in the revelry. - You’ve disappointed me, Declan. I had such high hopes for you. Hearing his human name spoken by Asarualimnunna shamed Chaos down to his core… and enraged him. - Let me play the role of Creator then. Let me give you this human to help free you from your prison. Eros is doing nothing to help you. I am here to do your bidding. - Unfortunately, you have proven yourself untrustworthy. - Try me. If I fail you, then be my judge and executioner. Silence. Chaos wondered what Asarualimnunna’s decision would be. He received his answer when Adrian appeared standing in front of him. Adrian wasn’t sure what had happened and what had freed him from being raped by the man in black’s massive horse cock, but whoever did it, he was forever grateful. If only they would take him away from this psychopath. Adrian’s heart beat quickly as he saw the man in Black slowly begin to grow larger and larger, ripping through his clothes. His back snapped right below his Adonis belt as two massive horse legs grew to join the two already standing on the floor. The man’s torso grew longer and harrier, massive horns grew from his head, and a large scorpions tail swung from his hind end. When the transformation was complete, Adrian couldn’t believe what he was standing before. He had never seen something so incredible yet so filled with evil. - Look upon my true form, human. Larger and larger the creature grew until he towered feet above Adrian, his mighty horns nearly impaling the ceiling. - You have been chosen by Asarualimnunna and myself to take your place among the God’s. - Please let me go. - You beg for mercy when all I want to do is free you. I look within you and all I see is sadness. Let me be the father you never had. Let me give you the universe. Let me give you power beyond your wildest dreams. The words echoed in Adrian’s head. He wanted to close his ears so he couldn’t listen to the massive Centaur, but Chaos had a way of entering into his soul. - Tell me what you are. - Please - Tell me what you are. - I’m nothing. - That is not true. Look within yourself and tell me what you are. - I can’t. - Look at what I was. The image of a stern middle-aged man with grey thinning hair and with a half-way decent physique appeared before Adrian in the mirror. This was once the creature that stood before him, thought Adrian. This fairly average looking man was now so imposing, so regal, so god-like. - Simply from looking within, I discovered what I really was, and Chaos was born. Look within yourself. Look. Afraid of what he might see, Adrian looked within and saw himself at 16, fat and lazy. Hating this image, he tried to run from it but it engulfed him until it was all he could see. No, he thought. This isn’t me. Not anymore. As he fought his past, the image began to morph until it became what he was today. - What are you, son? - I’m muscle. - Yes. Look deeper. - I am strength. - Yes!! - I am muscle built upon muscle. - Continue! - I am perfection. I am stronger then any man who has entered this building. I tower over them. - Are you my soldier? - No…. I… I think I’m more. - I know you are… and now you must take your place. Through the many realms of existence, the birthplace of all supremacy began to glow, powering the gem stone. Rays of light shot from the gemstone in the laboratory and into the ether. Chaos felt it enter into his soul. Taking in Adrian as he stood there, Chaos released it through his eyes. The moment the beam hit him, Adrian feared every word he had said. - No! Please! I don’t want this! - You have looked within and admitted what you are. The power now fills you. Adrian felt every inch of his body start to slowly vibrate with a power that came from the God’s. He tried to fight it with all of his mental capacity, but found it harder and harder to concentrate on anything but his body. He was his body. He was muscle. What else did he need to be? Perhaps the man was right… - No!!! - Don’t fight destiny, Adrian! I can feel the power filling you, caressing you, embracing you. - You can’t have me. - I already do. Stop fighting me and become what you were always meant to be. Adrian fell to his knees. The energy that coursed through every cell of his body was quickly raising his temperature. Sweat poured out of every pore. Chaos flicked his tongue and enjoyed the scent emanating from Adrian. Any second now it will begin, he thought with a wicked smile. Any second I will have my first soldier. Adrian screamed out in agony. He opened his eyes but found it difficult to focus. When he closed them, all he saw were the visages of armies of muscular men… each larger then the other. They were calling to him. Join us, they said. Take your place among us. Adrian reached out his hand to touch the herculean image that had appeared in his mind’s eye and discovered that it was him. When the two hands met, his word exploded. The sound of bones shattering filled Chaos’ ears as Adrian cried out. Every bone in his body was cracking and becoming lengthier and denser. His spine began to elongate as both his legs and arms grew further from his core. The bones of his skull cracked and rearranged themselves as the skeleton underneath grew and refined itself. Adrian reached for his face, trying to hold it together, but found it difficult to control his elongating hands. Through the pain, he opened his eyes and gazed at himself in the mirror. He could no longer identify himself from the stretched out creature he saw revealed in the mirror. Minutes before he had only stood 5’6, but now he had to be nearing 6 feet. He tried to stand erect, but his feet were too long… everything about him was too long. Once again, he tried to stand, and found that with time he was able to balance himself. His head rose up past the mirror now and continued his journey. Through his fear, Adrian heard himself giggle. Once he was looked down upon by everyone… now he would stand above them all. He laughed again but was thrown off balance by his own body. He landed on his ass with a thud. Looking at himself in the mirror again it looked as if all of his hard gains had been stretched out over his body forcing him to look like a tall emaciated skeleton. He crawled to the mirror the best he could and looked at himself closer. The heat emanating from his core was slowly tanning his body to a golden brown. If he didn’t look so sickly skinny, he would have thought it was the healthiest he had ever looked in his life. As he continued to examine himself, the stretching stopped, and there was silence. Adrian slowly got to his feet and moved away from the mirror so he could see himself completely. From what he could guess, he had to be nearly 7 feet tall. His face had elongated and thinned drastically, and the nose that had been broken twice by his drunk father had repositioned itself into a perfect Roman configuration. His jaw was sharp and angular, and his lips had a slightly pouty look he had never had before. Due to the massive heat emanating from him, every single hair on his body had fallen out and now lay on the floor… even his eyebrows. His torso was incredibly extended, finishing with the longest and scrawniest legs and arms he had ever seen. Even his penis had elongated. It flopped down in front of him half way to his knees and was as thin as an earthworm. When he grabbed the disgusting thing with his skeletal hand, it could have easily encircled it several times. With terror in his eyes, Adrian looked to the man in Black. - What have you done to me? - Patience, my son. That was only the beginning. Chaos blinked, and the energy flowed from within him again, and into Adrian. Adrian was thrown back slightly, but he maintained his balance as he felt his body getting heavier and heavier with muscle mass. - I’m growing! Adrian relished in the feeling of his muscles multiplying on his body. Larger and thicker each muscle became. No longer did his legs look like sticks, but massive tree trunks with awe inspiring calves and quads. A light dusting of blonde hair began on his legs and spilled lightly up the newly formed cobblestone abs. One by one Adrian’s abs popped out firmer and thicker, the crevices between them growing deeper. Adrian lusted after this perfect six-pack that was appearing on his lower torso, and just when he thought he couldn’t get enough, two more appeared on top. An eight pack!! I can’t believe it, he thought!! His waist caved in deeper giving Adrian the most awe inspiring and physically illogical wasp body. His waist was a mere 32 inches and his chest erupted into a massive 58 inches. Adrian felt up his own chest, loving the pecs that had grown there and the deep crevice that had formed between them. As he touched his nipples, the areoles grew larger, darker, and more sensitive. Adrian’s lats spread out wide from his back, but his arms, which were hard and full, were long enough and in proportion to this incredible form that they still rested down on his sides. His neck became a wonderful column of muscle holding up a beautifully sculptured face. Muscle sculpted his face till it would remind one of a statue created with care by one of the masters. Blonde hair grew out of Adrian’s head, long and full, going down past his shoulders. The final organ to form on this perfect specimen of manly beauty was his penis. It grew thicker with a bulbous head. His pubic hair grew in blond as well, brushing the ball sack, which held two oranges in there, proving to the world how virile he now was. When the growth finally stopped, Adrian stood before the mirror in utter awe. He had never seen such a beautiful manly form as himself. Every inch was pure perfection. There was not a blemish nor a spot nor a mark on any part of his body. Hair grew in all of the “right” places, and every muscle was in impeccable proportion and symmetry. Perfect was all he could think of when he looked at himself. Adrian’s hands couldn’t stop touching every inch of his body. He looked to Chao’s and smiled. The Centaur looked down at him. - What do you think, my son? - I’m perfect. - Yes. - So beautiful… yet so manly. Adrian shook his hair and laughed as it fell around his shoulders. He looked again at the man in black and saw that he was smiling, but there was something dark in his eyes. Was he attracted to my new form, Adrian wondered? Now that he was larger he might be physically able to take the man’s cock, but did he want to? Not wanting to appear ungrateful for what he was given, Adrian approached the Centaur. - Thank you. Thank you so much! - Thank you… father. - Thank you, father. - Are you satisfied? - Yes!! Totally!! - Really? I’m just not sure I am yet. Maybe your pecs need to be bigger. Adrian’s pecs started to swell larger before his eyes. Rounder and fuller they grew. Pound upon pound was added to his pecs until they threatened to block his view of his lower body. - No. That’s not it. Maybe it’s your body hair I don’t like. Blonde hair began to sprout all over Adrian’s chest, getting fuller and bushier. The hair traveled down his abs, coating them but never covering them. - No! That isn’t it either!! Chaos looked deeply into Adrians eyes and smiled a wicked smile. - I know exactly what it is. The magnificently huge Centaur walked behind Adrian, and placed his hands on his shoulders. Gently… almost too gently… he turned Adrian so that he was once again looking at his reflection. - You looked within, but you wouldn’t look deep enough. You looked and saw only what society told you you should be. Just as you tried to build a body the world would love, you created this mask that is still covering the true you. You still want the world to love you, don’t you Adrian? - Of course. - I will teach you something now I learned long ago… the world will never love people like you and I. They despise us. They always have and they always will… until we force them to love us. Think of all of the people that have hurt you. Your father beat you, belittled you, broke your nose several times, and then abandoned you. Your mother’s affection only harmed you, and when bullies attacked you and made fun of you every day at school, what did anyone do? - Nothing. - Exactly. They allowed it to continue. It seemed they even welcomed it. Chaos continued to speak, evenly and intensely, and the words buried themselves deep within Adrian’s soul… slowly forming a bitter fruit there. - Even when you did something for yourself, lost weight, built a new body, did anyone notice? Did anyone really care? - No. - Did your life change for the better? - No A tear fell from Adrian’s right eye. - No. Even here… the place you love more than anywhere else in the world… does anyone really respect you? Treat you as an equal? They watch as you serve them and clean up their mess, but never really see you. People like Chad Mitchell will never really see you, will they? You asked him out once, didn’t you? - Yes. - When you had gathered the courage, convinced yourself that you were his equal, what did he do? - He told me no. He told me I was too young for him. - He laughed at you. Chaos conjured up the image of Adrian asking Chad out for coffee, and it appeared like a movie on the mirror. Chad thanked Adrian, told him he was flattered, but that Adrian was too young for him, that he should ask out someone his own age. Adrian, dejected walked away. Chad watched after him, and then started laughing. “As if!!!” Chad said to the departing figure. “You think you could touch this?!” Chad flexed his bicep in the mirror and licked it. “Fuckin fatties are always lusting after me. Hate it!” The image of Chad froze on the mirror. Tears fell freely from Adrian’s eyes. - They all laugh, Adrian… until you give them a reason not to. Look at me. No one will ever laugh at me again. I looked deep… deep within and I discovered what I was. Let me help you. Let me show you the way. You aren’t this, Adonis, are you? - I want to be. - Of course you do, but for the world it will never be enough. Let them truly see you, Adrian. Let them hear you. Let them fear you. - Yes… yes… They need to see me. - Exactly. - They all need to pay for what they’ve done. - They will, my son. I promise you. Now, look deep within. Is this really you? - No. - Tell me what you see. - Muscle. I am muscle upon muscle. - Yes. - Muscle creating dominance. - Yes. - Muscle creating supremacy! - Yes! - I’m bigger, more immense then anyone! They scream in terror and awe at the sight of me!! - Yes!! - The whole world fears me, for with one word I can bring upon their destruction. - YES!!!! - That is what I am. I am Destruction. Simply saying the word caused Adrian’s voice to fall several octaves, and caused Chaos’ loins to stir. The power build up once again inside of Chaos and shot out of both of his eyes and into Adrian. Knowing that more was needed, Chaos opened his mouth wide, and a beam of light emanated from it into Adrian as well Adrian screamed as all three rays hit him at once. Within moments, he was growing again. His legs exploded in size, becoming so freakishly muscular that he was forced to spread his legs as wide as they could go just so that he could continue standing… and still they continued to pack on muscle. His feet got larger and thicker, and his toes quadrupled in size in order to hold up the immeasurable mass of his legs. When it seemed that they could no longer balance such columns of muscle, they mutated, his immense big toes shifting down and more toward the middle of his feet, creating what could only be described as a massive hybrid of human and gorilla feet, enabling him more room for control and balance, and of course, growth. Just when he thought he couldn’t spread his legs any further, the pelvic bone of the man once known as Adrian split and dislocated, growing and reforming in order for his legs to gain more and more muscle mass. Enormous veins wove themselves over the surface of his legs trying desperately to feed the colossal quads and calves. The creature once known as Adrian felt only relief and pleasure as he let himself go and evolved into his true form. Gone was the Adonis belt as his abs grew bigger, thicker, heavier, and the grooves between them grew deeper. His stomach appeared to distend creating a powerful roid gut, accentuated by an impossibly jaw dropping 15 pack that grew on it. Adrian rubbed the cobblestones of his stomach wishing them greater and more enormous. Even the sight of his stomach must cause fear. Just thinking it caused more freakish abdominal muscles to grow until he possessed an unheard of 18 pack. The creature screamed out as his rib cage cracked and split, quadrupling in size, giving more room for his massive chest to grow… and grow it did. Pound upon pound of muscle deposited itself on his pecs forcing them to become rounder, fuller, and denser. The creature drooled, happy at no longer being able to see his lower half. Bigger, he thought. Make me mightier!!! Lost in the sensation of every muscle in his body growing out of control, Destruction grinned as he had difficulty lifting the heavy arms that were growing nearly as large and as veiny as his legs. With only lust and muscle in mind, he began to massage his pecs with his ginormous hands. As he massaged his pecs, the creature noticed that something was starting to force them slowly upward toward his chin. Moving his hands down, he discovered what felt like two more nipples emerging from the skin under his pecs. Squeezing them, he discovered that they were indeed two new sensitive nipples. With what sounded like an explosion erupting from his chest, another set of massive pecs burst out and formed under the original. Yes, he thought, pinching and rubbing the massive thumb sized nipples on his new pecs. If two are incredible, four are simply amazing!! The two newly grown pecs grew larger in size till Destruction’s torso was forced to begin stretching and growing upward again to form more room. Taller and taller he rose, growing closer to the high ceilings of the gym. He was thankful that this building had such high ceilings, but even more grateful that his body was creating more space to pack on more muscle. Destruction’s lateral muscles grew more gigantic, compelling his mammoth arms away from his side. When he did try to set his arms down against this side, he was not only prevented by his lat span, but by two large lumps that had formed two feet below his arm pits. Trying his best to look in the mirror as it got further away, he saw the lumps getting larger and larger, pulsating with a power from within. The pressure built up underneath them until they finally erupted like two volcanic pimples, forcing out two new colossal arms. Destruction roared as the two additional arms gained size to match their brothers. They were nearly impossible to control at first, moving as if they had a mind of their own, until he found that through some concentration, he was finally able to manipulate them himself. Still he continued to grow taller and more muscular. Never had Chaos seen such a specimen as this manifestation of all of the anger the man once called Adrian had held down for so long. Dark brown hair erupted all over Destruction’s body, coating his arms, legs, and chest in a thick carpet. The hair on his head turned a dark brown, and a thick beard began to grown on his face becoming fuller by the minute. Standing nearly 13 feet tall, Destruction continued to grow. The world would definitely see him now. The world would quake at his massive feet. As if fuelled further by this new found anger that had been released inside of him, Destruction continued to transform. An angry ripping sound came from Destructions body as foot long razor sharp horns angrily erupted from his elbows and his shoulder blades. Raising all four of his might hands in front of him as best he could, Destruction laughed as one by one he made a tight fist, and ten inch horns began to protrude and curve from each of his upper knuckles. With his two upper arms, he easily dragged the horns of his hands across the ceiling ripping it apart. Material fell around him, but this only caused Destruction to laugh, his voice now so deep that it sounded more like an unearthly grumble. Destruction roared again, his mouth growing larger as he did. Two more rows of sharp pointed teeth forced their way through his gums behind his original teeth, creating a terrifying shark-like mouth. Exuding so much heat from his own transformation, sweat began to pour down Destruction’s brown onto his face and chest. The burning of the salt water started to irritate his eyes, so to the best of his ability, he tried to brush it away, but he found it impossible to even touch his eyes with his bloated muscular arms. The more he tried to wipe the sweat away, the more appeared to fall. Chaos watched as the colossus tried in vain to stop the odd flow of sweat. Soon though, he realized it was not simply sweat, but appeared as if Destruction’s own flesh from his forehead was turning to liquid and pouring down his face and puddling around his eyes. The liquid soon started to solidify, and like clay, began building a wall in front of his eyes. - What’s happening to me??!! Stop this now! - I’m sorry, but it’s all simply out of my control. The flesh continued to flow, building up more and more in front of his eyes until it finally covered them completely. The creature, now blinded, roared and stomped around the room causing devastation all around him. Loosing his balance, the colossus fell to the floor. Chaos watched as the flesh smoothed itself out on his forehead until it looked as if he eyes had never been there at all. - It burns! It burns!! A primal roar came from deep within Destruction as his brow ridge distended further causing an oddly masculine Neanderthal look to overtook Destructions face. The skin below the ridge began to bubble and flex, and with a loud rip, one massive red eye opened in the middle of his forehead. Arching his back, Destruction roared again. Chaos watched with excitement as the four massive nipples ripped open as well creating four more additional red eyes. - Look upon me!! Look at what I am becoming!! Destruction got to his feet with a deep bellowing laugh. Chaos could feel all five eyes on him… staring deep into him. - I will be seen!! I will be feared!!! Would you like to see another trick, father. - Show me. Destruction reached his two bottom hands down and began stroking his immense penis. The more he stroked it with animalistic force, the more it grew. As he jerked it, the shaft grew thicker and thicker, quickly tripling in size. The head continued to grown larger and more bulbous as well, overtaking the shaft with how thick and long it was itself. The most erotic and sensual feeling began to emanate from the massive shaft. Smiling and looking directly into Chaos’ eyes, Destruction stopped what he was doing. Suddenly with one quick flick, he dug the horns of his right hand into the underbelly of his penis. The beast roared out, but the sound appeared more like pleasure then pain. A moment later, Destruction lifted his left, and dug those horns into the top of his penis. Chaos expected blood to start flowing, but all he could see was the flesh of the penis moving and puddling on its own like clay. A thick river of pre began to flow from the bulbous head soaking the floor. Flexing his might biceps, Destruction pulled his arms apart, and with a loud ripping sound, Destruction’s thick cock split in half. The clay-like skin quickly formed around it, and within moments, Destruction possessed two immense penises, both now dripping free flowing pre. - What do you think of your son now? The two penises continued to grow larger, standing at attention. Using two hands to stroke his penises and two hands to massage his basketball sized testicles, Destruction brought himself to the most forceful of orgasms. Cum rocketed from both shafts, covering the floor and shattering the mirror. Asarualimnunna smiled as the wall into the fifth realm cracked and he could easily slip through. Standing now at an immense sixteen feet and weighing thousands upon thousands of pounds of pure muscle, Destruction had finally been born. Angrily he began to tear the building apart, wanting to free himself from his prison. - Calm, my son!! Destruction did as his loving father requested. - There will be plenty of time for you to show yourself to the world. First, we must find another to join our army against the common enemy…Eros. We must build it before he is able to, and if my calculations are correct, only four more will be able to be born. Come with me. I think I know the next perfect candidate.
  10. Alternate title: The pump is life! The pump is...too much? The story isn’t done but I’m posting what I have for those guys that expressed interest in it, I’ll be finishing and editing it over the next day or two. Feedback is welcome. “Congratulations Max! You’ve been chosen, as you are required to do as per section 4 paragraph 3 of your sponsorship contract, to test one of the many fine products we make here at Unbound Beast! Project Pump Unbound is sure to lead to great things during your workouts and will leave with a pump like no other while giving you the energy to push yourself to levels you’ve never knew you could attain. Satisfaction? Guaranteed! Ensure you follow directions EXACTLY as laid out to give you the best results possible and relay your experiences back to the company ASAP. “ Yadda, yadda, yadda. The letter that came with the package goes on for some more self aggrandizing bullshit about the company. For a supplement company they really have their heads deep up their own asses. Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful they sponsored me and love what their “100% legal over the counter supplements” (and the not so legal ones they give people like me they sponsor) but I have to admit they worry me at times. Not just the completely soulless nature they do things but the fact, for all they hype them up, the men they sponsor and spend so much time and money on all seem to...quietly just disappear. At the same time though I do love the results I’ve been getting, the attention, money, and the chance at getting on the Olympia stage so if some shady shit is going on I don’t care so long as I get my due. With their help I’ve gone from an up and coming heavyweight bodybuilder tipping the scale at a, relatively, meager 253lbs while juiced to the gills to a rather staggering 328lbs, with a pro card now I might add, in a matter of a few short months. Thank fucking god that I’m over 6’ because the muscle just keeps packing on with no end in sight and I’d start to worry if I was any shorter about being able to get around properly. I mean at least this time they decided to have me act as a guinea pig on a preworkout of all things. I’d love to get to a nice even 350lbs with their help, so I can truly put the fear of ME into people at the gym and on stage, but it is starting to get a bit out of control. Whatever. Who the fuck actually needs clothes that aren’t painted onto every part of your body or to be able to fit in doorways...or cars...or plane seats without some severe discomfort for everyone involved? I sure as fucking hell don’t! I love this shit. I live for this shit. Unbound Beast can make me into a freak of nature but it’s my choice to stay one. So let’s see what this new toy they just sent to me on a silver platter can really fucking do. I put on my favorite pair of tights, spandex shirt, and high tops before grabbing my shit and a shaker full of this special “Project Pump Unbound” before getting into my truck and speeding my way to the gym like a child anxious for the arrival of Santa. I couldn’t hold in my excitement as I down the bitter and tangy preworkout the moment I saw the gym on the horizon. By the time I got out of my truck, which very visibly lurched as I stepped out of it, I could feel it start working. I swear the veins on my arms and what you could see all across my legs through my tights were pulsating with every heart beat as the supplement made its way throughout my body. I swaggered toward the gym with full confidence that this workout was going to be fucking legendary. Every step I could feel my arms bounce off my lats as they made contact, my quads grazing each other all the way down my knees, and my calves flexing into thick balls of pure sex and power with every step as I waddled through the front door. So single minded was desire for self worship through steel that I brushed past the front desk with the attendant looked at with a mix of annoyance and recognition. Not a single person at this gym did not know who I was or just how much of a muscled freak I’ve become over the last few months. Despite my best efforts people were intimidated of me and gave me a wide berth, I admit it bothers me that they feel this way even when I go out of my way to be friendly and approachable but you know? Tonight. Tonight it suits me just fucking fine. I’m on a mission to test this little prototype drug of UBI’s and I won’t be done until I’ve pumped every single muscle to the fucking max, time to stress test this shit. I made my way to the weight room floor stopping at the threshold to survey my kingdom, my temple of iron dedicated to the exultation of power, muscle, and personal dominance. I couldn’t help myself as I adjusted my inordinately sizes bulge as my dick too decided to begin its own praise of what as to come. One major thing I will give Unbound’s products, I don’t have to worry about my balls withering to nothing like I had to on hear despite my body hosting a chem lab’s worth of chemicals. With purpose I made my way to the nearest unoccupied treadmill to start a quick warm scaring a man I’d seen numerous times before at the gym. There was a spring in my step as I began a light jog which I couldn’t tell if it was due to the preworkout or my anticipation. I looked around the gym floor curious to see who was here tonight as I noticed that the man on the treadmill next to me was blatantly eye fucking me as I ran, the only noise that could be heard were my thundering footfalls that echoed through out the entire room and his hard breathing as he leered at my form. I laughed to myself and stared directly into his eyes which finally broke him from his trance, he blushed and turned forward again but stumbled off his treadmill and onto his ass on the ground. Immediately j stopped my jog and allowed the treadmill to deposit me on the ground next to him with a resounding THUD. He had a combination of surprise, hurt pride, and embarrassment on his face as I bent down to help him back onto his feet. Only then did I notice the respectably large tent in his shorts that was twitching with need as he looked at me. Defiantly he ignored my hand and scrambled into the locker room blushing so hard his face darkened several hues redder. I chuckled to myself about the situation while feeling sorry for kid’s predicament. I gathered my things, readjusted my dick again which was having a mind of its own since I drank that preworkout, and headed over to an open bench press. I put a plate on each side to begin warming up my chest, quickly busting out 20 reps to really get the blood flowing for a weight that is otherwise completely insignificant to me. As I sat back up I caught a quick glance of myself in the mirror. I could see my chest visibly swell just a little bit larger with every breath after this single set. Oh. Hell. Fucking. “YES!” I startled two guys next to me in the middle of their set with my outburst. I thought to myself now that I have their attention I may as well request they help my make the most of this. “Hey. Can you two do me a solid? Put on another 45lb plate when I tell you to, I want to bust out a quick pyramid set.” They glanced at each other before quickly nodding. I laid back down under the bar as they put another plate on each side of the bar for me and again I repped out a quick 20 reps with little exertion on my part. “Another!” A plate was added and 20 more reps went by. “Another!!” 20 more reps. “Another!!!” 20 again. “ANOTHER!!!” I finally slowed down but not due to fatigue or exhaustion, in fact I’d never felt so good, I slowly…slowly lowered the bar down to my chest taking my sweet time to burst back up with enough force to surprise my two helpers into taking a step back. I did this again, and again, and again until yet another twenty reps had passed with my brow finally starting to sweat from the show the combination of personal and chemically enhanced strength. I was spellbound as I went through the motions. Any pain or ache I’ve ever had no matter how minor was dispelled as if it was never there, I was like a conduit of human prowess made manifest as I started to scare even myself with what this drug was doing for me yet my only thought was “MORE!” With a jarring sound of metal on metal I racked the weights before muttering my thanks to the two slack jawed men that helped me. Keeping my head down so I could surprise myself with the results I made my way to cable area. Immediately I began to belt out rep after rep of cable crossovers, lateral raises, reverse later raises, pull ups, wide grip pulldowns, curls, pushdowns, and anything at all that could be done for my upper body in quick succession. The only time to sound of weight hitting weight as I acted like a demon possessed was when I changed the weight or exercises, I began to draw the attention of nearly everyone on the gym floor but I didn’t care. Well over an hour passed before I finally stopped to look at the results at which point I now knew why everyone was staring at me. My compression shirt was so tight across my hulking form that it looked like I had stolen a shirt belonging to a small child. I gingerly flexed one of my arms in the mirror as they were so bloated with blood and brawn that it became a feat to even do that much. What had once been about the size of my head now completely eclipsed it. My forearms were so thick and riddled with veins completely engorged with blood that it fought with my biceps for space as I flexed my arm. Quietly a sound of threads tearing as they futilely fought against my lat that stuck out like a wing belonging on a beast from legend. I gasped at the sight and accidentally began to choke myself as my chest puffed up like parade float balloon. Unable to help myself lowered my arm and began to flex my chest, making my pecs dance and put on a show for anyone watching, which at this point was so densely packed with muscle that they may as well make a Z cup size just for me. My shoulders made my shirt like I was smuggling two basketballs that both lead to a mountainous peak which lead to the bottom of my skull rendering me truly neck-less, the only thing ruining this image was my legs that had until now escaped my attention. Swiftly I made my way a leg press and the seated calf machine loading them both with as much weight as they could hold. I want to make sure I don’t neglect a single part of my body so long as this preworkout is in my system but I wanted to do something special for my own amusement and curiosity. With both haste and control I jumped back and forth between the two machines only allowing my increasingly pumped calves time to rest as I walked from one to another. Rep after rep, set after set, I pounded the bastards into compliance like a blacksmith at a forge attacking them at every angle for over half an hour until the pump was so fucking painful I could not take another step and sat down next to a squat rack. As my breath was so ragged it came out in bellows I began to laugh madly at the pain just completely fucking reveling in it. Delicately I stood up, my movements awkward, as I began to pile on plate after plate on the squat rack to finish my calves off completely. Flippantly I tossed another two plates onto the ground for me to stand on as I fought through the pain and the excruciatingly over pumped muscles to begin a standing calf raises using a weight that would have blown even my own squat one rep max out of the water. With every repped they bulged out wider, another vein appeared, and the pain from both the exertion and pump only got worse. Victoriously I slammed the bar back onto the squat rack after set after nonstop set to see what I had accomplished. Immediately I got hard, painfully so. Defiantly they ignored my commands to flex only responding with pain and a tightness that distended my overburdened skin but eventually my calves relented. So overloaded with muscle were they that my stance was forced into an inverse of a cowboy, the size ratio between my calves and upper legs were reverse making me look truly ridiculous but yet, to me, only aroused me further as a large wet spot began to form on the railroad spike bulge jutting from my groin. I got under the bar one last time as I had one last area that demanded my attention. With perfect form I squatted…and squatted…and squatted, the entire time my tights were being pulled forward by my dick which was no less turgid than when I started. Every ascent I was welcomed to my quads bloating up just a bit more, every descent I could feel my hamstrings flex and swell further as my ass bulged even more. Soon my calves were met and then exceeded by the size of my upper legs as they took their rightful place as the reigning monstrosity they were always meant to be. I only stopped when I could no longer push my feet outward to accommodate the muscle just take up every millimeter of possible space on my legs. Awkwardly I racked the weight and waddled out to see what I had made of myself. No doubt came to my mind that while my calves here half again as large as my legs used to be my legs were now half again larger than that; and to both my delight and surprised the pump I had worked so hard for on my upper body hadn’t diminished…in fact if anything it looked like it bloated up even more. I began to go through my pose routine laughing to myself every time I felt stitching on my tights or compression shirt rip and tear or when I wasn’t able to fully complete a pose either due to the pump or the staggering, almost bordering on offensive to the eye, size of my body. Winded from a long, grueling, and fruitful workout I stopped posing and grabbed my gym bag as I made my way to the locker room. Thoughts of how hard it was getting to move or that maybe I overdid it crept up to the forefront of my mind but I had little choice but to try and not think about it as I awkwardly waddled into the locker room, every step more of a challenge than the last. Unceremoniously I dropped my bag in a corner and began to flail around in vain while I attempted to pull off my clothes. I sighed in a mixture of defeat and worry as I heard someone enter the locker room behind me. Very stiffly I turned around as I heard someone begin to speak. “Look man I’m sorry about earlier, it’s just that you just a…fucking beast and I couldn’t help but stare at you.” It was the man earlier from the treadmill. He was looking down at his feet clearly too embarrassed to look me in the eye from his fall earlier. He began to look up as he continued. “I mean I’m sure you’re used to it and all but I know it’s rude as hell to stare at people but I just wanted to say…HOLY FUCK WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?” I quickly raised a finger to my mouth, or tried to at least I should say. My arms were too swollen from whatever the fuck this preworkout is doing to me that it was just an impossible task at this point. “Hey!” I barked at him. “Lower your voice damn it and apology accepted but can you do me a solid here?” He flinched slightly at my outburst and looked at me inquisitively. “I uh…sorta over did it…can you help me take my clothes off?” Immediately he began to give me a look as if he was wondering if this was a trick and simultaneously praying to whatever god that it wasn’t. “I swear to Christ I’m not fucking with you or coming on to you but I seriously need to take a cold shower and cool down but I really fucking overdid it in the gym man.” Like a wild animal accepting food from a human he slowly and very cautiously took a few steps towards me as if to make sure I wasn’t about to hit him or something. “I’m not going to bite man.” I laughed to myself and then muttered under my breath. “I don’t think I could right now if I wanted to anyways.” As his hands neared the hem of my compression shirt he stopped to look at me and check if this was really ok or not, I rolled my eyes and nodded my head for him to get on with it. He shrugged and delicately began to peel it off. I could hear the fabric protest and seams rip even more as he disrobed the shirt which was well past its max capacity. I could feel his hands explore my torso as he tried to take off the shirt without outright destroying the tortured and abused clothing. It ended up being all for nothing though as I could barely raise my arms at this point with how swollen they had grown that he ended up ripping it off the rest of the way. We both let out an involuntary gasp once we were both able to get an unobstructed view of the aberration I had turned into. Every single muscle on my torso simultaneously looked like it was made of the densest granite ridden with innumerous veins and striations but also as if they were inflated like a balloon struggling to not burst. Treadmill guy started to pitch another rather impressive tent in his shorts as I snapped my hand to get his attention. “Hey…uh…what is your name?” I asked while trying to hide my embarrassment at not asking him before asking him to take off my clothes. “Brent.” He responded as he put his hand onto one of my pecs. I snapped again to try and get him to pay attention. “Look I’m flattered but could you please help me take the rest off and maybe buy me dinner before you go any further?” Brent blushed as he took his hand off my chest and started his attempt at taking my tights off. With some patience, and extreme luck that no one walked in on us while he was helping me, Brent was some fucking how able to peel of my tights which were now severely distorted by the ordeal they went through trying to contain my legs. He also helped take of my shoes and socks with little fanfare but that left just one thing piece of clothing left that I still wouldn’t be able to take off in my current state...the posers I wore when I worked out. “Seriously?” Brent asked me in a tone mixed with humor over the audacity of the situation and hope that hope he wasn’t just dreaming. “…yes, seriously. Please.” I responded blushing and trying to avoid eye contact the entire time. “Ok then…” Brent said to reaffirm himself as he put his hands around my waist and pulled down my posers. Immediately my dick, which had softened but still left a very visible wet spot from my earlier excitement on both my posers and tights, popped out of my posers. It uppercut Brent’s jaw as it inflated like a twisting balloon with a mind of its own to the utmost size possible without popping. As Brent started to cuss at the unexpected dick uppercut my now excessively large, and did I mention erect, dick succumbed to gravity as it plopped down onto Brent’s face with the tip resting firmly in the middle of his forehead leaking precum all over his face. Brent stared cross-eyed at his assailant wondering what the hell just hit him and then leaked over him I turned around and wobbled away at a pace that would be ridiculously slow if not for my current predicament spouting a thank you over my shoulder before he could comprehend what happened to him. As I made my way to the showers, praying that maybe a cold shower would help ease my exceedingly pumped up muscle, I could feel a pressure begin to build up in my nuts. Every step the pressure got worse and worse, my dick was being pushed up until it was standing vertically as my balls began to swell and accumulate seed at a painful and worry rate. I got the counter and mirror before the shower room with every one of my erratic steps being followed by a resounding THWACK noise of flesh hitting flesh as my dick bounced around wildly when the pressure was too much. I bent over and grabbed the counter as all of the cum that had been demanding release could wait no more. I stared into my reflection meeting my eyes are I let loose a sound that no human should be able to make, my gaze never broke as I took in what a fucking freak of nature I became as what felt like gallon after gallon of cum erupted out of my dick ten times more powerful than any volcano but just as destructive as I could feel the wall, floor, and my feet be completely doused with my essence. It took me a few minutes to collect myself and catch my breath as I hurried as fast as my overly bloated legs could take me into the showers. Finally I made it into the open showers and fumbled about trying to turn them on in a final attempt to cool my body down or do something…anything at all to reverse or slow whatever the fuck is happening to me. I was on the verge of tears in my frustration that I finally got what I wanted, to be a freak, but it was just too fucking much when I heard Brent’s voice. “Hey man are you alright? I saw your…mess, do you still need some help man?”
  11. ‘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.
  12. 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.
  13. 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.
  14. 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.
  15. "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/
  16. 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.
  17. 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.’
  18. 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.
  19. 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
  20. 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.
  21. 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/
  22. 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.
  23. 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
  24. "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
  25. 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….
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